I'm not sure quite how to rate this book. Parts of it are beautiful and there are many gems of wisdom, particularly in the lovely chapters on forgiveness and dying. I went in to this book expecting to love it for its emphasis on the feminine divine and its focus on the mystics, who I was intrigued by. However, I'm afraid it left me with some seriously mixed feelings about mysticism, its utility, and even its desirability as a spiritual path.
Some thoughts in no particular order:
1) The language of the book was too ecstatic for me. Starr and her mystics are people who are on fire with passion for the divine, and the book is steeped in metaphors of total surrender, sexual union, and overwhelming devotion to the Beloved. As an agnostic person with a complicated relationship with the divine with some religious trauma in my past (especially in a patriarchal religion), that kind of ecstasy for the divine is not only unrelatable, it's deeply unappealing. So while I can read Julian of Norwich and appreciate that she is encountering a god that is so much more expansive than the restrictive religious culture of the time, I don't connect with her rapture.
2) The book does not really explore some of the more complicated ethical questions relating to these ecstatic-union-with-the-divine moments. To begin with, the line between psychosis and other mental health disorders and mysticism seems very blurry to me. Several anecdotes shared as inspiring encounters with the Beloved or expressions of enlightened devotion came across to me as very worrying from a mental health perspective. There is also huge potential for abuse in the religious communities that seem to spring up around these mystics. Starr shares in the book that she was sexually abused by her guru as a teenager, and her own obsession with obtaining enlightenment left her vulnerable to that abuse--but she doesn't really explore the implications of how the pursuit of ecstatic union with the divine makes people vulnerable, nor how religious communities surrounding a charismatic, enlightened figures can create conditions for abuse to thrive. Similarly, she briefly mentions how she was given LSD as a child and again as a teenager by her abusive guru, but there's little tackling of the role of psychedelics and other forms of bodily distress in inducing states of ecstatic union. They are all treated at face value, as long-sought, precious visitations of the divine lover.
3) In her chapter on motherhood, Starr states that conventional spirituality has minimized the spiritual path of motherhood, instead elevating asceticism and monasticism, which are particularly inaccessible to mothers, as the highest spiritual paths. But although she acknowledges this, nearly all of the examples and anecdotes she provides in the book are of extraordinary individuals whose mystical experiences came through extreme spiritual seeking that is possible specifically because these mystics were not mothers or were past their childrearing years. I was so disappointed in her lack of examples of how motherhood offers a spiritual path that is worth just as much as being a pilgrim. I'm left with the feeling that she does not actually believe this or there would be more discussion of the ordinary people in addition to the monastics, the gurus, the great founders of religious communities.
So. I learned, I suppose, that mysticism does not really appeal to me. I appreciate many of the writings and insights of the great mystics, but I am afraid I must retain my skepticism about the extreme states of distress and deprivation that led to many of their mystical awakenings. And I must seek elsewhere for spiritual material that can provide me with something useful to hold on to between changing diapers and cutting the crusts off sandwiches.