Visionary Fiction Through The Lens of Perception
If you’ve followed recent posts at VFA, you’re aware of the ongoing discussion about what distinguishes visionary fiction from other genres listed under the umbrella of speculative fiction, including sci-fi and metaphysical.
Although our internal deliberations and debates have led to some interesting revelations and “ah ha” moments, I figured it was time to invite in an outside source to shine fresh light on the enduring conundrum.
Enter publisher, writer, editor, and lecturer Hal Zina Bennett.
The Puzzle of Visionary Fiction
I contacted Hal Zina Bennett because he contemplated the rise of visionary fiction as a new book category as far back as 2002, and I haven’t yet found anyone who’s come close to addressing the genre with such expertise (though he doesn’t lay claim to that distinction).
As he says in a previous post at VFA, The Puzzle of Visionary Fiction: “I think I have some understanding of spiritual non-fiction, and have written one moderately successful ‘visionary fiction’ novel, but sometimes I’m not sure I really ‘get’ visionary fiction at all.”
That post was written over a year ago, and, since the “puzzle of visionary fiction” is still missing some key pieces, I called upon—or should I say pestered?—Mr. Bennett again, hoping that during the interim he had located a few of those elusive shape-shifting dodgers.
The Lens of Perception
What follows is Mr. Bennett’s response to my “visionary” query:
The too obvious answer to your last post/email may be that visionary fiction like beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.
Folk stories, specifically stories I’m familiar with from the Zuni and Hopi story tellers, easily mix spiritual visions, fantasy, magic, and everyday reality. Is that visionary fiction?
Well, here’s the long explanation: A young Hopi woman, in her 20s or early 30s, I guessed, came up to me after a reading I did from my book “The Lens of Perception.” That’s a non-fiction work but has “visionary” anecdotes. It’s about “visions” we have that dramatically change how we live our lives–including near death experiences, peyote induced visions, spiritual visions, intuition, even visionary stories. The young Hopi woman told me how important The Lens of Perception had been for her getting back to “the old ways,” since it confirmed something for her and her friends about the nature of “visions.” (She said reading the book taught her and her friends a way of talking about visions that allowed them to be taken seriously by the “old ones” on the rez, who then took them on as students of the old ways.)
She talked to me for a long time about how a vision takes us into a place of knowing that is beyond our own fantasies and hopes and fears, so that we see the reality that exists outside the perceptions of our five senses and beyond what I’d call “consensual reality,” or even traditional teachings. For example, she talked about the Hopi and Zuni stories (visions) of coyote and raven, the animals assume human qualities. They speak with human voices and think like humans. They have families, mates, and so on. In these stories, coyote often depicts how we humans get undone by our own inability to see the “Big Picture” beyond our selfish needs; raven is often depicted as coyote’s nemesis, manipulating coyote so that he gets tripped up by his own efforts to manipulate other people (or animals, as the case may be). Of course, sometimes coyote is godlike, too, and raven can be the carrier of great wisdom.
The point my young friend was making was that stories like this were not just entertaining; they provided perceptions (not just moral lessons) beyond everyday reality; they were rooted in the visionary, not because they were imaginative and clever stories but because the teller had glimpsed a truth beyond everyday reality. The vision came from, and mirrored back to us, that which we cannot see or understand through the perceptual mind, that is, through what our brains make of the information they receive from our five senses, from memory, from intellect, or even from our dreams. They transcend linear tradition–that is, the teachings of the family, the tribe, our peers. You can have a “traditional” story that seems very similar to a visionary story, told simply from rote, or derived from imagination, which is not visionary. It’s awfully difficult to distinguish one from another unless the listener or reader also has a touch of the visionary in them.
Do discussions like this inform us about what’s visionary fiction or not? In the moments after that conversation with the young Hopi woman that day, I believed I was pretty clear about making that distinction but it has since slipped away. It’s a piece of the puzzle from my own perspective though I am never convinced that I communicate it well to others.
In my better moments, I’m sure my most impeccable research and most thoughtful writing is pure fantasy, stories my ego desperately wants me to believe.
HAL ZINA BENNETT, Ph.D.–Author/Writing Coach/Publishing Consultant
Thanks, Margaret, and good to hear from Hal again.
Much that pertains to the essential definition of VF offered here, but will just highlight one point: "the teller had glimpsed a truth beyond everyday reality. The vision came from, and mirrored back to us, that which we cannot see or understand through the perceptual mind."
An accurate description of what I like to call the "in-between" state, what lies between material existence and the purely spiritual (or abstract), the realm of the near-death-experience. Think of two intersecting circles with the area of intersection common to both realms. In our human state we can only experience the spiritual within the bounds of that intersection. What we see there does not easily translate into purely material terms; it is up to the VF writer to go there and bring back some hint of what is there, thus enticing others into the intersected area. One assumes the intersected area enlarges (evolution) so that more of the spiritual and material intersect. Or so my "intellectual" mind puts into words what coyote/raven present so much more eloquently.
Actually, Vic, your "intellectual" mind did a pretty good job of putting into words what Hal Zina Bennett did via story. I named my book series "Enter the Between" (and use the word "Between" in each of my book titles) for this very reason–to symbolize the bridge that connects/overlaps the material and the spiritual realms, not always a comfortable place to be in or plug in to, yet necessary for the expansion of consciousness. I guess one can say visionary fiction writers give voice to the unconscious through story, or, put another way, fit unconscious content into conscious fantasies. I agree with Bennett when he says, "It’s awfully difficult to distinguish one from another unless the listener or reader also has a touch of the visionary in them."
In connection with Hal's comment re the reader needing a touch of the visionary in them, I received an email from a friend, a staunch Catholic, who dared to read my novel The Anathemas, which details how the church decided reincarnation was a heresy. She said: "I have a difficult time relating to the idea of reincarnation since this wasn’t part of my education; nor was reading the Bible for that matter. In view of this, I am not adverse in learning more about it as well as learning about other faiths and their beliefs; and I feel that your book has given me an education and more of an interest into this subject. I feel I at least have an open mind."
In other words VF can, if you can entice them to read, reveal the visionary even in those seemingly closed off to it. We have to remember that there is a visionary in every human being, otherwise they wouldn't be alive. Now getting to shuck the shell may be another story.
Reblogged this on Shaman Elizabeth Blog.
Your references here to in-between state and Enter the Between are curious. I have a question about writing visionary fiction from that between state. Do you see the act of writing visionary fiction emerging from intuitive writing methods vs. the more structural/plot traditions?
Hi Paula. it will take some thought on my part to formulate an answer to your question, since it's a question I've been grappling with, too. Off the top of my head, I believe all good fiction comes from/through an intuitive source/method/zone as pulitzer prize-winning author Robert Olen Butler states in his book, "From Where You Dream, the Process of Writing Fiction." He calls it the "white-hot-center of the unconscious." But I don't think that's what you're talking about.
If you're asking if all visionary fiction writers must go into a trance state beyond meditation or dreaming or zoning out while walking/driving, etc., I, personally have not had that experience. I haven't communicated with spirits. I haven't had a near-death experience. I haven't "been touched by an angel."
I use "The Hero's Journey" method for plotting, which is structural, but my characters are faced with the kind of issues, problems, conflicts that can't be solved/resolved through genetic testing or clever police work. Sherlock Holmes would be totally out of place–too literal, too right-brained, too unbelieving–to be the hero in my stories.
In order to set the course of my stories and characters, I reach into parts of myself and life experiences for answers that you may call intuitive, synchronous, or serendipitous. I reach into the unexplainable, but not impossible, the place between mind and heart. Yes, I guess you can call that the intuitive. But that doesn't make me a psychic or require paranormal abilities on my part (though I do give those abilities to some of my characters).
I hope this answer helps a bit. I'll see if I can come up with something better later. Or, if I'm lucky, another visionary fiction writer will take the plunge and lend me a helping hand.
Worth highlighting: "I reach into the unexplainable, but not impossible, the place between mind and heart."
Hi Paula. Not sure what you mean by "intuitive writing methods," since people use "intuitive" to mean a lot of different thing. But I'm guessing I know what you mean with writing. Neuroscientists tell us that the part of our brain which is most active in any creative activity depends a great deal on the same part(s) of our brain that light up when we daydream, dream, or play. Having coached hundreds of fiction writers over the years, I can honestly say that I don't know any who don't t use this intuitive, or daydreaming part of the brain in their writing. There is also a lot of spiritual and visionary fiction that is very structured and plot driven. For example, "The Celestine Prophecy," which is often cited as visionary fiction, is very structured and very plot driven. I don't think it's an either/or thing. A few years ago, while writing my book "Spirit Guides: Companions & Mentors for Your Inner Journey," a friend turned me on to a very interesting essay by Wilson Van Dusen, titled on Emanuel Swedenborg, the 18th century Swedish philosopher/theologian. Van Dusen was a psychologist and the head of a mental institution at the time. He was questioning certain pathologies in which the patient heard voices. Some of these voices were obviously obsessions based on the person's past trauma. Others, he'd observed, seemed to tap into sources of spiritual knowledge that were quite beyond that individual's education or background. Van Dusen found Swedenborg's writings tremendously helpful in sorting out the questions he was asking. He (Van Dusen) stated: "One then wonders whether his spirits are merely pieces of the unconscious or is the unconscious simply a reflection of this interaction with spirits? That is, which is the more substantive reality–the unconscious or the world of spirits? …. I think these two are the same." (Wilson Van Dusen, "A Confirmation of Swedenborg in Recent Empirical Findings.")
I think in most fiction writing we wall, at least to some degree, are "inspired" by this world Van Dusen was discussing here. We don't create our books simply from the stuff we've collected in our brains but from what we are able to access from that consciousness that our brains connect us with. I think that process is what we often refer to as "intuitive". Our visions, the characters we create, even the plot and structure of a book seem often to emerge from that mystery we've labelled "consciousness." I must say I can't always get to that place of the "visionary" when I write but at least for me that is mostly due to my own inner critics–and much less having to do with intuition or the more structured approach. In my most private moments, I am convinced that we are always living in what Van Dusen (and Swedenborg) called "the world of spirits." But we don't always listen carefully.
As usual, I've gone on a bit too long here. Besides, it's not my fault. I have this verbose spirit guide who….(Smile).
Do discussions like this help? Oh yes! What a fantastic post, Margaret. There’s just so much here to digest, and so many quo tables, some that I think can be added to our definition.
“A vision takes us into a place of knowing that is beyond our own fantasies and hopes and fears, so that we see the reality that exists outside the perceptions of our five senses and beyond what I’d call “consensual reality,” or even traditional teachings.”
This is brilliant, and correlates with VF.
The whole idea of missing the big picture because of everything that’s going on in the lives of the characters is something I used quite often as well.
That's why I call Hal Zina Bennett an expert on VF and why I believe he comes closest to addressing the genre in a way that makes sense. But even Mr. Bennett admits: "It’s awfully difficult to distinguish one from another unless the listener or reader also has a touch of the visionary in them."
A very interesting perspective, as are the comments here also. I am fairly new to this genre and find all of these attempts at defining VF fascinating. Perhaps it's the visionary which makes it difficult to define. Even those who have visions have difficulty describing their experience.
The characters in my stories have visions or dreams. They are never quite sure if what the are experiencing is real or not. It is this uncertain yet very real feeling experience which has them questioning their trust in the visionary information they receive. Should they act on it or not?
We VF writers appear to have the same crises. Should we write it or not? I think as a VF writer we try to express our beliefs in a form which will provide the reader with a means or tool to grasp that other- side or in between place from where our visions and inspiration come.
Well said, Jim. "…as a VF writer we try to express our beliefs in a form which will provide the reader with a means or tool to grasp that other- side or in between place from where our visions and inspiration come." To which I add something I took away from a quote I read today: VF writers are expanding souls reconciling the visible with the invisible.
Again worth highlighting: "VF writers are expanding souls reconciling the visible with the invisible." I also like to think that VF writers are charged with bringing forth modes of perception, already embryonic within, for "seeing" what is invisible to the ordinary senses.
I am inspired by the insights of Hal Zina Bennet, as well as the passions and perspective of all of the comments. There is so much rich material in these perspectives.
I, too align with the description of VF as worlds unseen but inherent in our unconscious abilities to perceive them. We VF authors do indeed make forays into those other dimensions (does that sound like Rod Serling here? 🙂 via our characters. And these experiences often, but not necessarily, come from our own explorations and experiences in these other worlds.
I appreciated the visual you described for this 'between' state, Vic; and your description of it, Margaret. I have often perceived the world through the symbol of the Vesica Pisces – the two slightly interlocking circles that form a third shape, an almond shaped symbol at their intersection. The ancient term, Vesica Pisces, is my name for the symbol you described, Vic. Not only do I see life through that lens of the Vesica Pisces, but I use this symbol as a theme in all of my novels….similar to how you use the word 'between' in all of your titles, Margaret.
Hi Jodine. I looked up the Vesica Pisces symbol (I was thinking of a fish symbol for some reason) and saw a picture of the one on the modern cover of the chalice well in Glastonbury. Ummm. I immediately thought of you and your writing. Yes, it's perfect in showing the interlocking circles that form a third shape–like the intersection common to both realms that Vic described above. Thanks for bringing something new to my attention. And, by the way, I loved Rod Serling, have since I was a kid.
Vesica Pisces–the bladder of a fish. What amazing things we learn about here. And that symbol on the cover of the Chalice well? Happens I took a very clear picture of it when I was in Glastonbury in 2009. See it here on PDF page 9. I love co-incidences (as distinguished from coincidences).
The other night I watched the video about Stephen Hawking, "A Brief History of Time," and it triggered thoughts about VF for me. Hawking is clearly a visionary, though in his case he expresses himself as a mathematician and cosmologist. (I would define him as a theologian, but that's a different subject.) When he lost the capacity for speech, he got fixed up with a computer that helps him communicate with others. But the thing that made it possible for him to continue his work is that he is a visual thinker. His primary "thinking" process is with pictures, visions, not words or even mathematical formulas. He first sees in his mind's eye (envisions) the issues that he then writes about and/or communicates mathematically. The point here is that there's a parallel between what he does and what I understand as visionary fiction.
A shaman I worked with years and years ago told me that the inner world, the visionary aspect of our being, is more important than the everyday "physical" world, or what Huxley called the "phenomenological" world. Why so? It is because everything that happens, everything we create, starts within as ideas or dreams or fantasies (visions) that are then expressed outwardly, impacting other people or our planet. Change most easily occurs by changing the inner world, the "vision." If we truly create an inner world of peace, for example, it will be reflected outwardly and peace will spread over the world. (Hopefully, we're evolving in that direction!)
This is a piece worth looking at: Visionary fiction often deals with the stuff that happens at this edge between inner and outer, glimpsing those moments when the "thin veil," the boundary between inner and outer worlds, dissolves or is at least briefly drawn away. Every moment of our lives there's some of that interchange between inner and outer, of course. Our "visionary fiction" focuses on that phenomenon itself. Stories written in this genre draw our attention to how our visions inform us and impact our lives.
I've noticed through the years, that after the death of a love one, I often have quite intense conversations with them, in my consciousness, for up to five years, at which the conversations begin to fade away. I used to try to figure out, or decide, perhaps, if these talks with my deceased friends were a symptom of my losing my mind, or were "real" communication with the dead, or were just the result of an inborn function in our brains for dealing with our grief. Well, I decided not to decide about it. Rather, I believe that consciousness, like the universe itself, has no boundaries, no limitations. (Our brains do have limits. It's a finite structure, like our thumbs or our left kidney.) Visionary fiction goes to this playground, daring to play with what some would argue isn't there.
Visionary fiction tries to imagine, or process, what the more logical brain cannot do, that is, the idea of our universe as having "no boundaries." Our brains stall out when they try to go there because the tool with which we explore that concept (our logical brain) is finite. There's a point when the brain just can't grasp boundarielessness.(Sp?) Same deal with the essential boundarielessness of consciousness, I think. That insight, or "feeling," of boundarielessness fascinates and intrigues us. It's awesome in the biggest sense of the word.. Some of us can't leave it alone. There's a part of us that knows it's real, undeniable, and so we turn to writing stories (or maybe mathematical formulas) to explore that place, through our characters and stories, or numbers.
The "vision" part of visionary fiction is the vehicle that carries us to the filmy veil separating our ability to know from what we can't know. Visionary fiction generally acknowledges something bigger–something limitless, really–beyond the everyday phenomenal reality of coming up with the rent every month, showering in the morning, or taking the dog out for a walk. And that's a damn good thing. I believe that any society which loses its ability to explore this territory where visionary fiction writers go is not looking at the Big Picture, and is in danger of losing its humanity. When we underestimate or deny the power of the visionary we are indeed in danger of losing the capacity to heal the damage we do, be it with those we love or with Nature herself.
Thank you, Hal, for your brilliant contribution here. Reminded me of a very worthwhile book by philosopher, Ken Wilber, called "No Boundary"–what else?
Like how you suggest Hawking is a theologian. Has occurred to me that every VF writer has to be something of a theologian, albeit a practical one. And this comes from someone with years in a seminary where I decided too much abstract philosophy/theology and took up parapsychology instead.
Loved this one: "Visionary fiction often deals with the stuff that happens at this edge between inner and outer, glimpsing those moments when the “thin veil,” the boundary between inner and outer worlds, dissolves or is at least briefly drawn away." Dare I correct you and suggest that the third word, 'often,' isn't necessary although I get your intent in putting it there?
Appreciated your example of communication with loved ones after death. Have had several similar experiences, including some marvelously vivid dreams, unusual for me, after which, once the experience faded somewhat, I tried to parse it similarly. I too concluded that the rational mind, the waking consciousness, was not equipped to analyze such things. Not that I don't keep trying. Developing other means of perception seems to be working, if slowly.
What a great playground we've chosen for ourselves.
Playground indeed!
Except there are no bullies in our playground! That's a natural effect of VF, which is all about bridge building, made easier because there isn't proselytizing over one's ideology.
I see Stephen Hawking as a visonary. I think scientists naturally fit into this mold as they tap into the creative aspects of their thinking. Tesla was another great example of a visionary, as he connected art to his creations. He is one of my personal inspirations, and I have modeled the protagonist of my first book after him, replacing his fondness of pigeons to ducks in my book! I see science (the theoretical side of it) and art as interconnected in that they are drawn from the same well of inspiration. So is it any wonder that the Teslas and Hawkings of the world inspire us authors?
What you say about our inner-world being more important, I also see our truth. It is our intentions that drive our actions. Even the Buddha stressed the importance of our thoughts…right thoughts, right actions. What we think, we certainly do put out into the world by our actions.
There have been many instances where I have felt as if I were losing my mind when dealing with visions I have had. As you have done with your experiences, Hal, I have chosen not to define mine. I’ve been much happier accepting there are some things that I will never fully comprehend. I'm comfortable with that. In fact, the romantic part of me loves the mystery as it opens the door to many possible theories that I can use in my stories.
Sounds like you're living the questions, Eleni.
Thanks so much, Hal, for pulling all that we've been trying to say together in such an understanding way. I believe your comment deserves publication as a future post. There are too many rich thoughts included here to be tucked way down where many readers won't see them.
This talk of VF dealing with stuff that happens at the edge between the inner and outer world, reminds me of Rod Serling's three introductions to the "Twilight Zone," my favorite being:
"There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call 'The Twilight Zone'."
Talk about the BETWEEN!
Rod Serling was, in my opinion, a visionary fiction writer. Maybe that's why I so loved his work while growing up.
Hal,
Thank you for your wonderful comments. Your response catalyzed further thoughts and inspirations for me. Indulge me everyone, as I explore these thoughts, here in my reply.
From your reply, I see in a more articulate way how VF helps readers touch their own inner landscape of their deep psyche and soul, not just the emotional or mind/linear levels of themselves. And I think that is where VF differs from other fiction, in particular inspirational or metaphysical.
You speak about drawing aside the thin veil. With another Avalon parallel (I can't help myself, it is a huge part of my inner landscape and VF stories!), there is the legendary veil, the 'mists' of Avalon. These mists hide the parallel realm of magical Avalon from the mundane world. I think why so many people are attracted to this 'mythical' landscape is that Avalon is an external expression of the inner soul/deep psyche landscape, and when the mists are thin, when we can draw them aside, we get to live in and explore – even in our imaginal realms – a normally unseen place where our soul is realized and limitless, and where magic and mystery and hope thrive. It is an archetypal paradise, reflective of the perfection of our own inner spirit.
What I particularly liked about your comments was when you talk about how without the big picture of the vision, we are in danger of losing our humanity; and in danger of losing the capacity to heal the damage we do to ourselves and nature. This is exactly why I feel the compelling perspective that divinity resides within physicality. If we are focused solely on the transcendent, above and beyond our physicality or human suffering, we lose our groundedness in the divine that is within matter, within our very world. It is through our physicality and our physical world (in the trenches) that we have the best portal and the best access to the other realms, those unseen realms that parallel ours and fuel our vision.
The genre of VF parts the veil to glimpse the soul that is inherent all around and within us.
I love this, Jodine, especially the 'mists' of Avalon/veil parallel.
Me too! That last line sends goosebumps up my spine: "VF parts the veil to glimpse the soul that is inherent all around and within us."
Oops. Sorry for the sloppy editing in my above post. I only had 20 minutes to squeeze it in before a client so didn't edit it. HZB
Your ability to put into words the questions and answers sparked by the "What is VF" query amazes me. Again, enough notable material (grown plants, not seeds) here for another post. I'm really–sort of–getting what we're getting at. Thanks so much to your "verbose spirit guide." Please tell him not to stop. Plus, I'm glad to see–finally–that you actually make editing mistakes once in a while. Your contributions are usually so error-free that I can reprint them verbatim.
Another one to highlight: "We don’t create our books simply from the stuff we’ve collected in our brains but from what we are able to access from that consciousness that our brains connect us with. I think that process is what we often refer to as 'intuitive'. " Excellent differentiation, Hal.
Agree also that any good writing, especially VF, uses both intuition and structure. Intuition, to me is the fluid/feminine/wave side (inspiration) that is captured into story form by the structured/masculine/particle side (perspiration), with the finished product being that marvelous balance between the two we call art.
Oh my, this is very helpful. Thank you, Hal. I guess I am thinking either/or. I'm trying to make sense of times when I am consciously writing a scene or story and on firm ground, and times when I'm unconsciously writing. Sometimes I go back to a page the next day and reread it and say to myself… "Gee, don't remember writing that. I don't remember even thinking that. Who wrote that?!" It's a little scary. Do intuitive writers have that experience? I've always thought of myself as very grounded in my writing process but these past few years, I find myself relying on letting the story happen to me rather than making the story happen. Victor's comment about masculine/structure and feminine/wave sounds like a good way to look at it. The idea of spirit guides, though, really scares me; I grew up Catholic!
Paula. Actually, what you're describing about reading something you've written and not remembering that you wrote it is the essence of the creative process. Don't worry, you're not "possessed." Honest. Our brains are always both taking in and processing material sort of in the background of our more conscious thoughts. As our creative abilities expand, we learn to draw from the reservoir of knowledge we've taken in and made sense of in these ways. When we create a character, part of the writing that is very conscious and deliberate–for example, we want Mr. Jones to be a villain–but to be engaging and credible we have to draw from a wide range of our own experience, our own fears, what we've observed in people we didn't like, what we've read and so much more. The human brain doesn't figure it out logically. We cast into the stream of our own thoughts and feelings and, metaphorically, pull out fish we couldn't see and perhaps only guessed might be there. And we seem to have this capacity for writing it all down in a semi-trance, hardly aware we're doing it. Some of the most creative writers I know have a way of deliberately dropping into that state of consciousness where all of this just seems to happen on its own. Bottom line is that what you're doing when you're writing that way is a real blessing.
Victor, thanks. Yes, I know Ken Wilber's writing well. A few "dialogs" with those who have died have certainly caused me to keep wondering about the limits/non-limits of consciousness. As a writer I find the practice of "not knowing" at least as important as knowing. And usually more exciting.