Letting Go of Other People’s Approval to Find Inner Peace
Releasing the need for external validation can lead to the quiet, transformative journey of the mystic path.
Every Monday morning, I couldn’t wait to see my crush at the gym. The first thing he would ask is what I did the past weekend. I always felt compelled to report something, anything, to prove to him that I had an exciting life. I would even be somewhat anxious before each weekend trying to busy myself with social activities.
I ached for him to ask me out, or even include me in some of his weekend plans. One weekend he did, and he wound up bringing his girlfriend, who was still married to someone else. Boy, I really knew how to pick them.
Once I let go of the crush, I embraced the introvert who really wanted to stay at home every evening. I loved the idea of curling up with a good book and going to bed early. Maybe it was also that I was getting older and no longer wanted to spend my evenings at bars, especially when I had an early morning run or bike ride.
This shift felt like coming home to myself. For so many years I felt I was missing out on life if I didn’t pack my social calendar. Would another girl meet and marry my Mr. Right? Once I stopped searching for (or chasing after) Mr. Wrong, I felt a release from so much pressure.
Whether you stumble upon the mystic path or deliberately choose it, there is always a sense of leaving your old ways behind. Sometimes it feels like something is stripped from you, in which case it shows where you’re attached. You realize how much energy you waste by gripping so hard.
This shift felt like coming home to myself.
Other times it’s a matter of losing taste. Things you used to do or have no longer give you the same satisfaction. They just fall away, and you just don’t care. For me, that was finding a significant other.
Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee writes about this shadow side of the spiritual life in his book, The Bond with the Beloved. He’s a Sufi, so I always enjoy the Sufi’s description of God as “Beloved.” Like John Climacus in The Ladder of Divine Ascent, there’s a turning away from the world that’s essential on the mystic path. Your false self begins to dry up as the light within you burns it off.
Others who are attached to their false self and worldly gifts might not understand. Vaughan-Lee writes, “Those whose identity and self-worth are determined solely by the outer world may even be threatened by the silent voice of one who looks elsewhere, who seeks to lose the ego rather than to gratify it.”1
This can make us feel isolated, especially if our social circles don’t support us. They don’t understand why we’re no longer interested, let alone passionate, about things they’re interested in. Their idea of “living their best life” is about outward experiences and possessions rather than inner renewal.
Granted, that works for many people, but that path relies on sensory experiences rather than spiritual ones. Our senses habituate, meaning we need more sensational experiences to bring about the same stimulation. Eventually, that reservoir dries up because there’s no connection to the transcendent. We’ll never find meaning if it’s tied to the transient—particularly another person.
Ronald Rolheiser called it a “holy longing,” where we feel inner restlessness. We seek…something. Perhaps the first half of our lives we believe this search is for material success or a significant relationship. We might feel “happy” for a moment, a year, or a decade, but this hunger has us wanting more. Sometimes that leads us to addictions or even a pathological desire to “leave a mark in the world” by causing harm to others.
The mystic recognizes this need to connect to the transcendent. Vaughan-Lee believes all of us have a memory of our connection to the Divine, whether we choose to recall it or not. We might have a bit of amnesia as we work through our experiences, believing the lie that we’re not connected to one another and to God.
We’ll never find meaning if it’s tied to the transient—particularly another person.
Whether it’s through the grace of God or through circumstances (or both), the mystic is awakened to the memory of that connection. The mystic gets a glimpse of that sense of unity and yearns for full union again. That pursuit can make us feel very isolated, even in our religious communities that emphasize liturgy or dogma over a relationship with The Beloved.
Yes, some communities are really “woo-woo” for me because they don’t blend the abstract with the practical. They spend way too much time on “who God is” or other mysteries that can tie my brain into a frustrating knot.
Others that are too simplistic and never move beyond the level of initial awakening. They get stuck on the awakening experience, which can be sensory. But then they fall asleep until they jump back onto their yoga mat and become awakened again.
Echhh. I’m being cynical and judgmental, I know. Vaughan-Lee doesn’t quite go there. Instead, he recognizes that the mystic can often feel lost between two incompatible places in the city—one that emphasizes materialism and another that’s spinning around getting so dizzy until it falls to the ground.
The mystic leaves the city for the desert, even if it means experiencing some isolation for a while. But that isolation is only temporary until you shed all that blinds you from remembering that God is all around you, holding you. In that regard, you’re never alone.
1 Vaughan-Lee, p. 25