Homo Electronicus Migratus

Welcome back.

Friend and fellow conspirator, Dean Sharp, mentioned this article of mine on his blog. If you didn’t read Homo Electronicus Migratus on my website or through my newsletter, you should read it here today. The discussion that follows should be of special interest to those in Search of The Mystic.


Homo Electronicus Migratus

“You’re going to the United States to live with your mother,” his grandmother told him. She struggled to lift and carry him towards the car.

Instinctively, the boy leaned over, grabbed and squeezed with all of his might the wrought iron fence that protected the windows of their home.

She pulled on his legs gently. “You’ll be happy there.”

He pulled himself towards the fence. “I’m happy here.”

The boy’s grandfather walked past with the luggage and placed it into the trunk and turned back to help his wife loosen the boy’s grip on the fence. Eventually, the will of a defiant six year old submitted to the power of the way things had to be.

Hard to believe after so many years… I thought as the 767 turned to face the California coast, raced down the runway, and took off over the Pacific. Thirty-four years have passed since that day, and thirty since I last set foot there.

A lot can change in three decades.

My name had been changed from the Spanish name of my birth to an Irish name. My primary language had changed from Spanish to English. I was no longer a young boy, but a father. Indeed, the path I resisted as a young boy had turned out to be a blessed path.

But the change I had experienced was little compared to the dramatic changes happening around me. In the course of those thirty years, the whole world had been in the matrix of rapid change. A breakthrough in science in the morning, an advance in technology later in the day, and the whole world is new again.

Do you remember life before email?
It seems so long ago. It was.

The speed of change to which we’ve become accustomed is such that even the recent past is the distant past. At the end of the twentieth century and the beginning of the twenty-first, three hundred years pass in thirty.

I believe it was Peter Drucker [Post Capitalist Society] who pointed out that most historical epochs have been characterized by a rate of change that came on a snail’s back, in which grandfather and father passed on to their sons and grandsons a trade, or a skill, which would serve the next generation as it had theirs. In contrast, we live in a world in which grandsons teach their fathers and grandfathers how to program their VCRs.

Contrary to the ancient pattern, in the 21st century time flows backwards, and the younger generation is mentor in certain arenas to the older.

Three decades of chronological time had passed since I left the land of my birth, and three hundred in evolutionary time. In the course of the three decades since I had visited El Salvador, the world had changed from an earth-bound, industrial world that was migrating at amazing rates from the farm and country towards the city to a space-trekking, bio-electronic world that is migrating from terra firma towards cyber space at warp speed.

Earth had become a memory.

This movement may be more akin to an evolution of the human race than to a migration. Is mankind in a transitional phase of evolution from Homo Sapiens Sapiens to some as yet unnamed new species of man? If so, we are Homo Electronicus Migratus, an intermediate humanoid between the species we were and that which we are becoming. The famous Captain Kirk of the Starship Enterprise once said to a twentieth century earthling who mistakenly thought Kirk was from outer space, “I’m from Iowa. I just work in outer space.” In the same way, many among us are from the future, we just live and work in the present. And in the future, man has evolved from earthling to cyberling.

The former generations were married to the earth. Even in their migrations, those generations were grounded. They knew from where they came and often to where they were going. They had roots and found their identity in the land and in its names. They were generations that could point to a peak of mountains, or a cove, or a valley, and call it home.

The generation of the twenty first century is married to the wind. Even should they stay at one fixed locale, which many do not, the world changes beneath their feet. Movement is constant. This world of changing landscapes has evoked from deep within their hearts a primal longing for place to belong, a hunger for community.

This is a common experience for immigrants.

Predictably, scores of Electronicus Migratus are looking through the hardware of their computer screens in search of the community that as Homo Sapiens they could not find in their workplaces and neighborhoods. In this age of migration into a cyberspace Eden, which promises electronic connectedness, human connectedness continues to be an elusive treasure.

I unbuckled my seat belt when we arrived at our gate at San Salvador International Airport. The future needs a past, I thought, as prophecy needs memory and vision purpose. Later that same afternoon we sat together on the small front porch on which I played as a small boy. My children sat on one side and their great grandparents on another, wind and earth.

I translated as they talked about time, about places, about people. We talked. No modems. No email. This was a face-to-face encounter between Sapiens and Electronicus, and it touched something deep, something ancient. I felt myself reach for the wrought iron fence of the past and I heard a primal scream: Is earth not home? At the same time, I heard the wind passing and saying, time for defiant wills to submit to the power of the way things have to be.

And so, on the same porch of three decades past, I let go of the fence again, knowing that the world into which my children travel is new, but the path is blessed. Fear not, my son. Sail the winds, daughter. And to whatever world this path takes you, make it human.

Alex McManus © 1999
Slightly modifed from my article, Homo Electronicus Migratus , published June 7, 2005 in the newsletter of the International Mentoring Network. Originally written 1999.

What do you think?

into the mystic…

Alex McManus

The First Podcast From Space and The First List from the Mystic Future

Welcome back.

A podcast actually worth a listen:
NASA – Steve Robinson: First Podcaster From Space. Assuming you listened to the first podcast from space, let it sink in for a moment.

God I love this planet, the other planets our species will occupy, and the time in which we live.

A list worth reading:
A list of the names of several of the “early” Mystic has been brought to my attention. For security reasons, the list of those who became part of The Mystic in 2005 cannot be released before the end of the year. [If you’re not familiar with the search for The Mystic read the archived articles at alexmcmanus.org.]

This list is all the more remarkable in light of a Barna Group article called Rapid Increase in Alternative Forms of The Church Are Changing the Religious Landscape. According to Barna, not only will the “local church” lose half of it’s market share by 2025, alternate forms of the Christ following movement to which Christ followers will commit are emerging

  • House churches
  • Marketplace Ministries
  • Cyberchurch
  • The Barna article points to ancient [house church and market place ministries] forms to suggest potential new expressions of the future church. In contrast [or perhaps in complement], The Mystic, I understand, is a present-day, future-shaping movement that in the end will both prove and move beyond Barna’s research. Unlike house churches and market place ministries, The Mystic would become, I am told, a native-application to the 21st century of the Christ following movement in a way not expressed by any one of these two forms in and of themselves. Barna also points to a contemporary form as a suggestion of what the future church might look like. Unlike cyber churches, however, The Mystic would fully embody their physicality and use the internet to catalyze human f2f community.

    And now, to have in my possession a list of some of the “early” Mystic is like a miracle. Well, as I look at the list, what can I say? Only that the Mystic are not who you may think. In fact, they may be closer to you than you suspect.

    What do you think?

    into the mystic…

    Alex McManus

    Search for the Mystic – Where are we now? (1.4)

    Welcome back.

    Sitting in the back of the Starbucks in Barcelona, I began to piece together what I knew so far. “Here’s what I’ve discovered about The Mystic so far…”

    WIRELESS. They would be radically decentralized, I am told. Anywhere there is a laptop open that might be a manifestation of The Mystic. The laptop and the home party –not the church building and church program– would be there venue. As a movement, The Mystic would gather not every week like regular churches but once per year at a gathering that resembled more a festival than a church service. The Mystic would also stay connected daily through a network of blogs. In fact, the blogosphere would become a “city of voices,” a voxtropolis, where one mystic after another would tell the tale of how the story of Christ intersected the story of each and every one of them.

    NETWORKED. They would be radically unified in support of the movement. No one would enter The Mystic without a guide, they say, but once a part of the The Mystic they would

    • Experience a radical connectivity
    • adopt peculiar graphics/ icons–some wear it as a tatoo, but all have it on their blogs and websites — like the fish sign of ancient days
    • contribute 1 % to The Mystic . This 1 % would become a symbol that the whole of their lives and resources are for kingdom advancement and, I am told, as a way of upholding the hope of guiding 1% of western culture into the mystic.

    FESTIVE AND SOCIAL. The Mystic would go on to consider every member more than a minister and even more than a missionary. Each mystic would be considered a powerful asset with the competencies to speak peace to the city and reclaim broken lives. They would also be known for their disposition to throw great parties.

    COMMUNITY BUILDERS. The Way of The Mystic would be strangely different from and yet parallel to the ways of the traditional, contemporary and emerging churches. Instead of tithing to buildings and programs for themselves, they would use their resources to engage and/or help others. Yet because of their life and mission, many new churches of the other kind would emerge through “Mystic Migrations” and these new churches too would become part of The Mystic. The Mystic would then go on to become a church planting movement comprising “tent makers,” house church leaders, church planters and pastors.

    BLOGGERS. They would tend to be bloggers.

    FRIENDS AND ADVOCATES. They had lots of friends and supporters even among those who were not part of The Mystic because they would not be against the other forms of the church like the emerging church cynics. Rather they would be encouragers of all Christ following people and advocates for the Kingdom.

    They are said to own and operate out of a franchise of “wireless INTERNET CAFE’S.” [Personal side note: Man, I hope they eventually open one in Barcelona]. I’m tracking down a lead on this now.

    What do you think?

    Please scroll down and comment. Scroll down past the narrative below that explains a little of how I gained this knowledge of the mystic things to come. Anyway, it only makes sense if you read “In search for The Mystic 1.3.

    into the mystic…

    Alex McManus


    Search for The Mystic (1.4)

    There was no way I could risk having my gear stolen. I had to let the young woman with the perfect hands get away. I sat down and reread the page torn from a journal that she had dropped on my Mac:

    “Warriors needed in a quest to save the universe one planet at a time starting with Earth. Safe return doubtful.”

    “Safe return doubtful,” I read outloud. “What does that mean anyway?” I opened up my browser and launched Mac Mail and began to scroll through my mail.

    Buy Viagra–discreet delivery.
    Erase your Credit Problems Now!
    Safe Return Doubtful.
    Wait. Retrieve.
    Safe Return Doubtful.

    I opened the email.

    from: The Mystic date: July 25, 2015

    “There will be a woman, the email began, with two sons. One of them will be great and the other must find his way into the mystic or a season of great darkness wll fall upon the earth. He must come into contact with a guide before the clock of his life strikes 21. Follow the threads and those who post them. They will lead you to him. Safe return is doubtful, but the journey is worth all.”

    The Mystic

    An Instant message opened on my screen. “Remember, the universe depends on it.”

    Before I could reply. The sender logged off.


    I know what you’re thinking.

    You’re thinking that I’m telling a story that will end up with hundreds and thousands of new posts and threads [i.e. new communities of faith and church plants] linking all of Europe, the UK and the USA in an amazing new form of the Christ following movement.

    You also think that I’m using this narrative to describe for you the very first “native application” to the 21st century of the Christ following movement.

    You think there is no woman with perfect hands, no fat men with hairy backs in black speedos ogling naked women on the beaches of Barcelona.

    You think I wasn’t even in Europe touring with a world music band called doSul when all these amazing things began to happen.

    I don’t blame you. I questioned all of this myself. All I can do is continue telling the story. You decide what you can believe and what you should do.

    Search for the Mystic – A Reversal of the Time/Space Continuum (1.3)

    Welcome back.

    What would change if…

    There was a form of the Christ following movement that was a lay movement built not on a geographical proximity nor on shared physical space, but on cyber-proximity and shared cyber-space?

    What do you think?

    Scroll past the story below and make your comments.

    In search of the mystic (1.3)

    Her hands were perfect. Every finger seemed exactly the right length and there seemed no discernible change in the smoothness of the skin from her fingers through her thin wrists and into her arms. Beauty, however, is not just about hands. It also includes the kind of technology one sports. She had a Mac, a sleek and silvery temptress indeed. Excellent, I thought. Signs of a wireless connection.

    “Getting a signal?” I asked.

    She nodded her head once and dropped her eyes.

    For an amazing city, Barcelona is poor when it comes to easy-to-find wireless access. This Starbucks was one of the few places –in fact, the only place – that I had found where one could connect with the rest of the world. I had originally scheduled to travel to this wireless Hot Spot the next day but I just couldn’t wait. I needed to upload photos and post to my blog.

    Barcelona is also lacking in kingdom links and threads. This beautiful city, while rich in church buildings, is poor in communities of faith of the kind that seek to make the world a better place. Those conditions always make me feel right about being there.

    Have you ever felt angst in the center of your being?

    Sometimes I just feel like I must be more and do more because humanity down to the last man, woman and child is locked in an epic battle. It’s not that I “have to.” It’s not that I “want to.” I simply must. Usually, I take a sip of wine or take a couple of aspirin and lay down until the feeling goes away. But it never fully leaves me. It just waits until the right moment to strike again.

    Who will reach this young woman with the perfect hands? I thought. Who will reach the world my daughters and sons will live in?

    Every time I travel someplace new that seems to be in primal need of the news that Jesus crushed death, this angst lessens. I know that seems backward. Don’t get me wrong. For six years I served in key leadership roles at one of the great churches in the world. A church with amazing leaders, an amazing congregation, and an amazing vision, still the angst was there.

    Not boredom. But violence.
    Not an existential absence of meaning and purpose. Urgency.
    Throbbing silently.
    Calling me.
    Not to something better just something other.

    I made a peace with this primal longing long ago when I realized it would always be with me.

    I pulled out my power source, the correct power adapter and plugged into the power outlet. I set up my Sony USB cradle, docked my DSC-TI digital camera and then connected it all to my PowerBook G4.

    With all my gear out and in the open, I knew I would not be able to leave even to go to the bathroom without putting everything away and taking it with me. “Professional bag thieves,” the sign to my left warned in both english and spanish, “operate in this area.” I was stuck there until I was ready to pack it all up.

    I hadn’t noticed, while I set up my gear, that the young woman had closed her laptop and slid it into it’s sleeve. I opened my webmail, and as I simultaneously launched iPhoto in order to begin importing my pics, she stood.

    “Because the entire universe depends on it,” she said.

    I looked up.

    “You’re not supposed to be here today,” she said. She slipped a textured piece of paper on the keys of my laptop and spun quickly on her heels. She looked back and pointed at my Mac. “Anywhere there is wireless and an open laptop, there may be a manifestation of the Mystic Nation.”

    I almost knocked my table over getting up and as I began to go after her I again saw the sign.

    “Please keep a close eye on your personal belongings at all times.“

    I looked back at my gear and then back to the street. As she she stepped out she met a young woman with excellently curled brown hair. They spoke a second, looked back for a moment then turned and disappeared into the crowd.

    I’d already suspected for some time that The Mystic were more than just the urban legend I had at first suspected, and this wasn’t the first time this kind of thing had happened to me since I launched my blog, “into the mystic,” but it was the closest encounter yet. And again, it was almost as if they knew where I would be.

    I sat and picked up the piece of paper the young woman had left behind. It was a page torn out of a journal. A hand written and dated entry.

    “Warriors needed in a quest to save the universe one planet at a time starting with Earth. Safe return doubtful.”

    into the mystic…

    Alex McManus

    Search for the Mystic- A Reversal of Kingdom Capital (1.2)

    Welcome back.

    What would happen if …

    the millions and millions of dollars that are given each year to churches was suddenly released back into the hands of believers with the commission to directly make someone’s life better?

    Think of it. Hundreds of millions of dollars that would no longer be used to maintain the property of stagnant churches but instead placed again in the hands of the regular people who believed enough to give it in the first place?

    Their instructions? Make the world a better, happier place. Fly salmon in from Alaska and throw a party for someone that has yet to hear of Christ. Pay someone’s water bill. Give someone a used car. Take someone out to dinner. Why? For no other reason than that you love them.

    These questions are a sort of summary of the story told below. Feel free to scroll all the way down and comment on these questions without reading what follows. I warn you. Scroll quickly past the following story and don’t read it unless you have to.

    What do you think?


    In Search of the Mystic (1.2)

    The lounging bodies of men with hairy backs in Speedos and naked, sun-bathing women on the shores of the Mediterranean now behind me, my thinking turned sharply towards my search for The Mystic. I boarded the train for the short trip to central Barcelona and tried to organize in my mind that which I had come to know of this enigmatic movement thus far.

    I know what you’re thinking. How? How and when did I come to know what I know of The Mystic and who told me? All I can say is that they always seemed to know where I would be. My encounters with these mystic warriors would always be brief and somewhat shrouded. Always. I’ve come to suspect that this was for my protection and not theirs.

    Like the young woman with perfect hands that sat across from me on the train. She was reading when I found my seat and left suddenly at the next stop. But not before telling me out of the blue to keep searching because the fate of the universe depended on it. “Out of the blue” has a new meaning to me now.

    train tracks leading to Barcelona

    The future, I am told, will be different than we imagine. More wonderful than we could imagine, they say, and far more terrifying. According to the Gallup organization, Future Orientation is one of my Strengths and I love to think about what awaits us. But when these mystics speak of the future it is as if they have already lived it.

    In the early part of the 21st century, they say, the predominant forms of the Christ following movement, the Mega church and the house church, would begin to give way to new expressions, new alignments.

    New forms would emerge, one of them called The Mystic. This clan was characterized by a series of paradoxes

    • Larger than a mega church and smaller then a house church
    • Everywhere and nowhere
    • Radically decentralized and radically unified
    • Local and global
    • Electronic and biological
    • All the clergy became laity and all the laity became priests, poets and eventually, mystic warriors.

    One Story of the Genesis of The Mystic
    The genesis of The Mystic was unremarkable, I am told. So much so that no one saw it coming. Nevertheless, several streams of origin were discernible, the most important of which is the evolution of the human species from Homo Sapiens to Homo Electronicus. But another of the earliest streams, and the one with which we’ll begin, is when the flow of Kingdom capital reversed itself.

    The de-evolution of a species

    One of the more circulated genesis stories is of a young man living at the end of the 20th century who started a Bible study. His unreached friends came and converted to faith in Christ. The deacons of his church encouraged him to bring his friends to church so they could grow.

    The young man knew if he took them to church they would be lost to the Christ following movement. He spoke with the leaders of the church and explained the situation but they were unwilling to see his point of view. He had grown up in that church, gave money there every payday, and loved it in every way, but he couldn’t take his friends there. He wasn’t sure what to do. Finally, as his church did not understand his dilemma, he decided that he needed to part ways with his church.

    As an act of commitment to the gains he had made among his unchurched friends, he sent his offering to a mentor from college whose blog he read every day. Inside the envelope he put a note indicating his predicament and stated that he wanted to reach his friends and didn’t want to do it alone.

    Shortly thereafter, he received an email from his mentor.

    I’m not a church, his mentor wrote. I have no building to build. No staff to pay.
    Therefore, I accept your giving as your commitment to live a life focused on those who do not yet know. You are the church. You’ll receive in the mail a check for the same amount as your tithe minus 1%. You are commissioned to use all of it in any way that directly serves those you are seeking to reach.

    [As a side note, I met a young man with a similar story in Central Florida early this year. Had I known then of The Mystic I would have invited him to join me in my search.]

    Within a couple of years, many others followed. They reached critical mass silently through the invisible world of the blogosphere. As they grew they each began to give to the mentor, in the pattern of the first young man, 1% of their income as a commitment that all of their resources would be used to serve and reach the unreached. As part of their commitment, they set aside the remaining 9% to throw parties, or feed the poor, or pay someone’s water bill, or do any thing they wanted that would directly touch the lives of others.

    Mystic Warriors, as they would come to be known, would become known as the most generous people on earth among those they touched.

    Balconies in Barcelona

    Without intending it or even knowing it, they created a radical and revolutionary realignment of the economics of the Kingdom. Thousands and tens of thousands of Mystic Warriors and the hundreds of millions of dollars of Kingdom capital that would have otherwise become locked in the budgets of churches that didn’t work were all of a sudden unleashed to directly touch somebody’s life. The revolution had begun.

    With the passing of time, this community began to take on a shape and form of it’s own unlike anything that had manifested on earth before. [For those of you who think this is just a fiction, think again. The signs of the revolution to come are all around us. Check out Dean Sharp’s September 8 Post. It will scare you.]

    I know what you’re thinking. Where do they send the 1%? That’s what everyone asks me. As soon as I figure that out, I’ll let you know. For right now, my offer still stands: I’ll travel any distance to meet for even one minute with any one of these mystic warriors. My quest? To find the guide who has shown others the way into the mystic.

    What do you think?

    into the mystic…

    Alex McManus

    In search of the Mystic (1.1)

    Welcome back.

    Few have attempted to recreate an accurate portrayal of the social phenomenon known as “The Mystic.” With this in mind, since I find myself enthralled by this movement, I decided to describe for you as clearly as possible the astounding subtlety and scarcely perceptible migrations of this invisible but powerful culture.

    I warn you: I may have gone too far.

    [Before continuing to read, please read and reread the disclaimer to the right. It’s not too late for you. As for me, I’m afraid there’s no turning back now.]

    They say that good tales begin in the middle. I don’t know if that’s true, but if it is, then I must tell you what happened during the second half of July, 2005 in Barcelona, definitely a point in the middle of this story.

    It was hot, as most days are on the Spanish Mediterranean. I had taken a run earlier in the day, little noticing, as usual, the nude sunbathing women or the fat men in black Speedos with hairy backs ogling them. Ok, truth be told: the men were hard to ignore. Ok, ok, so were the women.

    Anyway, there’s something different about life in that part of the world. Take the way they eat: coffee and a simple piece of bread for breakfast, Dinner out at 10 PM or so in the cool of the late night, well after the inferno of mid afternoon, and lunch from 2 to 4.

    The people are to my eye attractive: thin, beautiful skin, great hair, fashionable, nicely shaped heads with interesting noses and eyes. And you have to love the Spanish temperament. That or hate it.

    Little did I know, as I ran northward up the coast, listening to the sounds of the sea purring to my right, that in a couple of hours a new dimension would open that would radically alter and escalate my search for the Mystic.

    Now, a few of you will remember that a few months before my trip to Europe, I had received an unusual email from “The Mystic.” The subject read, “We’ll be waiting for you.” Believing it to be spam, I deleted it. If it were possible to travel in time, and it might in fact be, I would wish to return to that moment and stop myself.

    Not long after, I began to hear talk about a social phenomenon known as “The Mystic.” Before long I was following up leads, calling across the country, and even traveling in search of the mystic. Some of the individual members of the mystic, known as mystic warriors, were reputed to never die. Others were said to die and live and die and live again. At first, of course, I believed all this to be an urban legend along the lines of the “Monkey man” of India.

    Moreover, it was rumored that the only way any one could become a mystic warrior was to be guided in by one who was already part of this enigmatic clan. Their origins are ancient, I was told, as they trace themselves back to mystics throughout the ages that, in the words of Van Morrison, let their “…soul and spirit fly…”

    In those early days when I began to search, my sources were those “second –hand” story tellers that “had a friend” who’d heard something about this mysterious movement. As of late, I’ve come closer. Too close.

    Wait. I’m getting ahead of myself.

    Let’s go back to the middle of the story, to the naked women and fat men of Barcelona, and the surprise waiting for me that fateful day in July. But before I go on, I must tell you that I know what you’re thinking. I thought the same thing at first and sometimes still do. But “go on” I must even at the risk of appearing “not serious.” After all, all I can do is tell you the story of my own search and let you decide whether or not to believe.

    …to be continued.

    In search of the Mystic – Phantoms?

    The Mystic are part, they say, of a long line of mystic warriors that have gone before them. Their wisdom is ancient and they believe themselves to be stewards of it — as if something precious had been handed down to them. Their responsibility as stewards, interestingly enough, is to give this treasure away. And, reportedly, the more the give it away the more of it they seem to have.

    Don’t ask me to explain it. I’m just telling it the story the way it was told me. You decide whether or not we should follow the clues until we finally discover the indubitable truth of it or not.

    OK, back to the mystic…The way they talk about themselves and their mission reminds me somewhat of my favorite comic book figure growing up: the ghost who walks, i.e. The Phantom.

    As you know, the indigenous people believed that the Phantom was immortal. In fact, he wasn’t. But the role and responsibilities of the Phantom were handed down from father to son. Since the passing of each generation of Phantom was a guarded secret, with no one knowing their burial place, the sons were able to don the purple tights and hood, black mask, and ride a white stallion, and no one would be the wiser that the old phantom had died and been replaced by the next generation of super hero.

    Rumor has it that some of the mystic never die, and that others die and live and die and live again.

    At first, I thought this interesting and kind of comic, but the more I thought I about it, the more I began to suspect that this business of living and dying again sounded a lot like the teachings of an ancient mystic that lived in the near east in the first century.

    Could this urban legend be some real off-shoot of a Christ following movement? I wondered.

    I don’t know. And sure enough, the more I research and follow up on the clues left me, the more I don’t know, but I suspect some immense discovery may be lurking around the corner.

    Well, I’ll just keep tracking the mystic as closely as I can and telling the story. Until I find a warrior or a guide to verify all of this, you’ll just have to decide whether it rings true or not. More later.

    into the mystic…

    Alex McManus

    The Mystic Nation (an update on my search)


    Is the mythical(?) mystic nation an urban legend or not? Let me tell the story. You decide.

    As some of you know, I’ve been obsessed with researching a social phenomenon known as the mystic nation. The more I ask around the more I continue to suspect that “the mystic,” as they are known, are more than the urban legend I first thought.

    Purportedly, the mystic nation is inhabited by “mystic warriors” each of which enters the nation through a mystic guide. No one enters “the mystic” without this guide, it is said.

    I came close to tracking down one of these enigmatic creatures recently, I think. Witnesses are sparse but I’ve contacted a couple of people [including a prophetic seminary prof and a visonary “poster of threads”] who seem to have some knowledge of these things.


    I’ve added a “blogring” on my xanga account (www.xanga.com/alexmcmanus) for those who will help me in my search for this practically invisible nation. [And perhaps the blogring will ferret out one of these elusive warriors. In fact, word is that there may already be one or two of “the mystic” lurking there. As I look down the list of those of you who have joined the blogring I realize that it could be any one of you.] Well, anyway, any help you can lend me in following up clues is appreciated. I’ll travel any length at any cost to speak even if only for a moment to any member of this clan.

    Parchment in Barcelona

    Oh yea, one more thing…I think I’ve started to piece together –from a small, fragmentary parchment that was mysteriously placed in my lap top while I was in Barcelona — a clue to the code of “the mystic.” More on that later.


    • Title: “into the mystic”
    • Photographer: Niza
    • details: on my way by train from London to Brussels following clues.

    Into the mystic…

    Alex McManus