Diana Susanti’s original blogpost in collaboration with Angga Bassoni Al Barkah & Ayisha Abdul Basith
Assalaamu ‘Alaykum Wa Rahmatullahi Wa Barakatuh
Al Ain, 15 May 2025 | In the Indonesian popular imagination, few things are as misunderstood as Kejawen—a deeply rooted mystical tradition indigenous to Javanese culture. Often depicted as eerie, shadowy, and arcane, Kejawen has been reduced in the media to little more than a spooky aesthetic, a convenient prop for jump scares and ghost-hunting TV shows.
Programs like Dunia Lain and its many spin-offs have done more than entertain—they’ve reshaped public perception of what mysticism is. But mysticism is not horror. And Kejawen, in its true form, is far more profound than a haunted house spectacle.
The Essence of Mysticism
Mysticism, across all spiritual traditions—be it Islamic Sufism, Christian contemplation, Zen Buddhism, or Kejawen—is about direct experience of the divine or the unseen. It is an inner journey, often solitary, marked by silence, symbols, and metaphysical inquiry.
Kejawen, as a Javanese mystical path, emphasizes:
- Tapa brata (spiritual discipline)
- Sajen (ritual offerings to harmonize with the unseen world)
- Sangkan Paraning Dumadi (meditation on the origin and purpose of existence)
- Ngelmu (spiritual knowledge that can only be absorbed through patience and inner purity)
At its heart, Kejawen seeks harmony: with nature, ancestors, the cosmos, and one’s own inner essence. It does not fear spirits—it respects them. It does not sensationalize the invisible—it communes with it in reverence.
When Horror Hijacks the Mystical
So how did something so sacred get mistaken for something so sinister?
Blame the genre of horror and the profit-hungry media industry. Horror, as a genre, thrives on fear. It depends on the grotesque, the unknown, the dangerous. When television producers saw Kejawen rituals with their incense, quiet chants, and midnight offerings, they didn’t see metaphysics—they saw marketing potential.
This isn’t unique to Indonesia. Globally, mystical and indigenous traditions have been misrepresented as “witchcraft,” “black magic,” or “occult.” It’s the classic colonial gaze: reduce what you don’t understand to something exotic, fearful, or laughable. In the hands of Indonesian mainstream media, Kejawen became less of a philosophy and more of a prop. Sajen became “signs of haunting.” Pusaka became cursed objects. And elderly dukun became villains.
It’s ironic, really. In a culture that prides itself on Pancasila and “Eastern values,” how quickly its own spiritual heritage gets demonized in the name of ratings.
Mysticism Confronts Fear—It Doesn’t Feed It
Mysticism is not naïve about darkness. In fact, the mystical journey often requires confronting one’s inner shadows. Nighttime fasts, vigils in cemeteries, or meditating in isolation are not done to invoke fear—they are done to transcend it. To sit with the unknown. To strip away the ego.
A mystic may meet spirits, yes. They may have visions. They may be disturbed. But the difference lies in purpose: the goal is not fear for fear’s sake. The goal is transformation. Horror seeks to frighten. Mysticism seeks to integrate.
Even the most intimidating aspects of Kejawen—the silence of the tombs, the rules of tirakat, the symbols that outsiders can’t read—are aimed at moral refinement, humility, and surrender. What the media presents as ominous is often the mystic’s medicine.
Media’s Cultural Violence
The misrepresentation of Kejawen in horror media is not just aesthetic—it’s a form of cultural violence. By equating mystical practice with horror, media delegitimizes a valid spiritual path. It sows fear and mockery in the younger generation. It reinforces the idea that anything outside of formal religious ritual is dangerous or demonic.
This is especially harmful given that Kejawen is not just spiritual—it is cultural. It connects people to their Javanese identity, to ancestors, to local cosmologies that predate colonial maps. When Kejawen is reduced to “horror,” it’s not just a misunderstanding—it’s erasure.
We Need Better Storytellers
It’s time for new narratives. For artists, filmmakers, and writers to reclaim mysticism not as spectacle, but as substance. Imagine if the stillness of semedi was portrayed with the same reverence as a priest’s prayer. Imagine if the unseen spirits were framed as co-inhabitants of the cosmos rather than jump-scare devices. Imagine if sajen were understood as sacred offerings—not witchy weirdness.
Mysticism is powerful precisely because it is misunderstood. It asks us to go beyond the visible, to listen more deeply, to walk slower. In an age of distraction, that’s not spooky—that’s revolutionary.
Final Thoughts
To call Kejawen “horror” is like calling Sufism “madness” or meditation “delusion.” It reveals more about the observer than the practice.
Mystical traditions—especially those like Kejawen—deserve depth, not distortion. They deserve storytellers who respect the silence as much as the symbols. And they deserve a public that doesn’t flinch at mystery, but leans into it.
So the next time you see someone laying a sajen on a tree stump, don’t assume it’s the beginning of a horror film. It might just be the beginning of a prayer.
Wa Allahu ‘alam Bi Shawaff. Hasbi Rabbi Jalallah
Wa Assalaamu ‘Alaykum Wa Rahmatullahi Wa Barakatuh
