History unwaveringly supports this view. Not every silty bayou could be drained, of course. They were regarded as mavericks, exotic and inferior. If they splashed too high, they were thought to be threatening and in need of extermination. The fearful flounder in the tanks, now psychologically dependent upon additive spirit flakes, had forgotten that once upon a time they, too, had been mystical.
Religion is nothing but institutionalized mysticism.
The catch is, mysticism does not lend itself to institutionalization. The moment we attempt to organize mysticism, we destroy its essence. Religion, then, is mysticism in which the mystical has been killed. Or, at least diminished. And in this way, we also discover what it is that we are.