HeyJaredModern Mystic
Modern Mystic is more than a newsletter—it’s a living, breathing altar. A space devoted to guiding you home to your embodied wisdom, your erotic energy, and your sacred contribution in this lifetime.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 4
- Latest publication
- Aug 12, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 14, 2026
Latest issues
Can You Love the Letting Go? (opens the original)
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Hello, Friend. Last night I dreamt of Keats’ poem, “Ode on Melancholy.” It’s a favorite, one of the poems that lives in my bones, a poem I’m guided by. But this wasn’t just a dream about a poem; this was a dream in which the poem became the animate world itself—a living, full-sized, multi-dimensional world—and I was living in it.My hand was the hand lovingly “emprisoned” by the speaker’s, his eyes fixed on my “peerless eyes,” his unwavering presence inviting me to “rave” in my “rich anger.
Do You See It? (opens the original)
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Hi, Friend.Do you see it? I almost missed them—searching methodically, in 3x3 inch rows, up and down the ledges in late afternoon light. All day I’d been walking through molasses: murky-minded, lethargic. And all day, visions of these ledges on the far edge of the cove appeared in my mind.They entered as quietly and unceremoniously as they left. Over and over, on the outskirts of thought. Finally, as the high sun of daylight swung into the western sky, I stood up and started for them. My walking
Hold Open Your Heart (opens the original)
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Hi, Friend. I woke this morning at 6:30 AM to a message from a new friend who’d already been digging on the flats beyond my cabin for hours, asking if he and his wife could bring me over a basket of fresh clams.Today, the skies are heavy again with smoke from the Canadian fires, a data center the size of two Manhattans has been approved in my drought-sieged motherland of Utah, a young mother and little daughter here in Maine are torn apart with grief after ICE agents shot her husband dead, and w
The Wild Heart (opens the original)
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Hello, Friend.For as long as we’ve existed, humans have been drawn to places on earth that call us, inexplicably, home. Wild spaces where our burdens are lifted, where the myopia of selfhood is dwarfed by a sense of belonging both ancient and familiar: caves, mountaintops, glades, deserts, watersheds—lands that function as gateways to remembrance, to a divine consciousness from which we’re forged but often forget.<div class="i
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