100 Books Like Rational Mysticism

MacGregor’s book blew my mind when I first read it. This masterful history reveals the discovery of a secret treasure, one that eventually transformed the art world.

In the 19th and 20th centuries, mental asylums in Europe began experimenting with art therapy, allowing psychotic inmates access to drawing materials. Over seventeen chapters jam-packed with astounding images, MacGregor’s book tracks the evolution of what is now known as Outsider art and the profound effect it had (and continues to have) on avant-garde art.

I love MacGregor’s ability to marry the rigor of a scholar with a humane and sensitive commentary on the lives of these forgotten "schizophrenic masters.” This book inspired my own research into schizophrenic art and is my go-to source for inspiration on this theme. 

John Suler is a prodigious writer of academic books, but that’s not what impresses me. Instead, what I love is to read prose that can take dense subject matter and make it accessible to the general reader.

When I was trying to reconcile my own research into Eastern mysticism with Western-oriented approaches to psychology, I found Suler’s work to be the Rosetta Stone I urgently needed to make sense of the impasse.

It’s like having a knowledgeable but personable mentor teaching you how to translate from one “language” about consciousness into another.   

The problem with a lot of academic philosophy is that it can feel overly cerebral or divorced from any urgent sense of the common suffering of mankind.

What I admire about David Loy’s work is that, despite his incredible erudition about languages and religions, he speaks from the heart about the need for a spiritual path that is accessible to everyone.

Like John Suler, I value Loy as a cultural translator; he effortlessly makes the insights of Eastern and Western philosophy legible in such a way that I feel less alone in the world.    

This is the oldest book on my list, and I worry that readers might dismiss Lethaby as some kind of dusty artifact from a bygone era. I stumbled on his work by accident when I was researching architectural ideas as they related to spiritual concepts.

I’d never heard of Lethaby, but once I started reading his work, I read it through in one (albeit long) sitting. Why? His imaginative grasp of the ancient minds that devised the earliest models of the heavens and who designed temples and homes to reflect those beliefs is a joyous and thrilling tour of the human spirit.

It’s a travesty to me that Lethaby isn’t a household name like William Morris.  

This was one of the best books I’ve read in a very long time. Its conclusions will be vigorously resisted by many and yet, in a certain light, considered perfectly obvious to some others.

The central conclusion—that ending the institution of war is entirely up to us to choose—was, arguably, reached by (among many others before and since) John Paul Sartre sitting in a café utilizing exactly no research. But Horgan is a writer for “Scientific American,” and approaches the question of whether war can be ended as a scientist. It’s all about research.

He concludes that war can be ended, has been ended in various times and places, and is in the process (an entirely reversible process) of being ended on Earth right now.

A complete classic from 1923, it contains so much wisdom that I almost use it as a reference book. There’s no plot as such, the central character forming a mouthpiece for short bursts of poetic prose that cover many of life’s biggest issues.

I adore the beauty of the metaphors and the whimsical nature of the advice, and I’ve quoted it in both formal and informal moments more times than I can remember.

I have known Dena Merriam for many decades and am aware of her very solid and consistent meditation practice and her devotion to her guru, Paramahansa Yogananda.

What I learned in this book is that in her meditation Dena has experienced quite a few of her past lives, and here she takes us back from 20th century Russia to 19th century America, 18th century Africa, early 15th century India, late 15th century Persia, 16th century Japan, and 17th century India. She even recollects what happens in between births.

It's amazing to recognize the patterns, people, and beliefs that we carry along from birth to birth, how the lessons of one life influence the following ones, and the spiritual guidance that takes us through our journeys through time.

The Dark Night of the Soul can feel like a frightening experience for those who don’t know what is happening to them and why things look so dark, cold, and empty. This book takes you back to a place of inner peace and comfort, helping you realize that you aren’t crazy and depressed, nor are you all alone on this path you are now walking. You are always guided, safe, loved, and protected. And even though things may look dark now, they won’t be dark forever. The darkness will eventually turn into light and when it does, you will see that everything happened for your cleansing, healing, freedom, and purification.

When I met Danielle Sunberg on Zoom during the pandemic, I was impressed with her ability to listen to her inner voice, to use it as the GPS for navigating her life.

Without relying on the language of the mystics, she describes her transformation from a corporate lawyer in Anne Taylor suits to a backpacking truth seeker as she travels the world in search of her real self. This deceptively simple book can carry the reader into their own insights on the nature of self, life, and spirit through the guidance and questions at the end of each chapter.

It's easily relatable to Westerners who have no interest in Eastern spirituality but are looking for a grounded awareness and higher consciousness. And it's a fun travelogue!

Though I am not religious, I have been aesthetically moved and spiritually stirred by these deeply personal, profoundly philosophical, and poetically enigmatic essays, which I find myself returning to when faced with the most fundamental questions about our spiritual lives.

Written by a French Jewish convert to Christianity whose own suffering is exquisitely attuned to the suffering of others, these essays have continued to inspire readers from across a broad spectrum of religious and philosophical orientations—including the most secular among us.