The first book I read about eastern mysticism was by Alan Watts. It was his "The Way of Zen". However, he confused me in later reads. I found this essay about his work, which I think is quite accurate.

I am a fan of Watts, but it seems that his mysticism has serious flaws that might hinder spiritual aspirants who follow him exclusively.

Check it out: The Wayward Mysticism of Alan Watts.

Certainly one will want his spiritual guidance from a source of true mysticism, rather than from the alleged pseudo-mysticism of Watts. But how is this guidance conveyed from the true mystic, if not via words, tones, gestures, etc.? It seems the authors of that essay are slamming Watts for trying to convey a sense of the ineffable. Therefore, let those authors show us how it is properly done (perhaps by remaining silent?). Then it seems the authors are condemning Watts for any attempt to help the seeker.

No, we had better stay away from Watts' "flawed" mysticism, and take only the unflawed kind. In what book are we to find that, if any attempt to describe it is doomed to condemnation by the likes of Nordstrom and Pilgrim?

I think it's a bit more involved than Nordstrom and Pilgrim criticising Watts simply for the attempt to describe the mystical. That the mystical cannot ever be fully described is understood, but there are nonetheless ways of describing it that are seriously erroneous, and Watts' is one of these.

The fact that Nordstrom and Pilgrim are trying to convey is that Watts' mysticism is actually not mystical - if anything, it is antimystical. Watts is, as you say, trying to convey a sense of the mystical. But he makes the massive error of reducing mystical experience to mere intellectual enlightenment: "When one gets the message, one hangs up the phone."

Watts hereby criticises effort, or practice, in striving for mystical experience, being obsessed with the idea of Tat Tvam Asi as a pervasive truth about the universe, substituting the idea of thusness for the living experience of it, and thereby negating the need to practice (which would be done in order to realise the experience of it, not just the idea).

So, as Nordstrom and Pilgrim correctly point out - "to get the message about the unreality or illusoriness of ego is not at all the same thing as actually experiencing egolessness, which is what Zen practice is all about."

This is not, then, merely a criticism of any attempt to describe the mystical, but a criticism of an obviously flawed description, and one that involves dangerous distortions, and equations of unequal things.

I agree with you, that we should steer clear of flawed mysticism. But Nordstrom and Pilgrim are not inclined to hammer genuine mystical instruction in the way that they've hammered Watts' over his antimysticism and critique of effort. They point out in the conclusion that:

"All over the country people are beginning to realize that spirituality is fundamentally a matter of practice, discipline, and effort. Watts. critique of effort would now fall on rather deaf ears, we suspect. It is dated, to say the least, Most people no longer want a wayward way, they want a clear and orthodox path to follow."

And this is what genuine mystical instruction (which is, as you rightly say, conveyed by words and gestures) would provide.

Try Zen in the Art of Archery by Eugen Herrigel. No shortcuts there. Or something by D.T.Suzuki (though I've not read him) who is supposed to be very good.

Lau_Tzu--I'm so glad you're here!

I'm going to add the cited books to my reading list. I read "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" (Robert M. Pirsig) ages ago. It's not the ultimate book on the subject by any means, but it had an effect on me. The concept is presented gently, via a father-son cross-country motorcycle journey. It's weird, because at the time, I had no idea what the book was really about. The only reason I read it was because a boyfriend who was a motorcycle enthusiast (and rode a BMW just like the one in the book) insisted I ought to read it. The book had conflicting qualities that I had never encountered. It seemed incredibly boring--and yet I kept returning to it. Somewhere along the way, I "got it".