Adam’s Dream and the Birth of Duality
In the beginning, Adam fell into a deep sleep. The Bible never says he woke up.
He dreamed of Eve. The other. She was not a mistake, but the beginning of duality. The moment Eve appeared, the possibility of “I” and “you” was born—a symbol of humanity evolving from unconscious unity into conscious relationship.
Duality is not a problem. We cannot know anything in the absence of its opposite. We cannot know light without dark, love without hate, eternity without time.
Contrast is the teacher.
The Tree and the Sacred Bite
Then came the tree. The apple wasn’t poisonous. The bite wasn’t a sin. It was a sacred movement—a symbol of humanity reaching self-awareness.
Consciousness evolves like all things. It is not a fall from grace—but a movement toward knowledge—of knowing the Creator, our Self, and our sacred relationship.
Being, Life, and the Shadow of Form
God is Being—pure, radiant Potential. Like the sun, still and eternal.
Christ is Life—Being in motion. Like a sunbeam, flowing from the Source into the world.
When a sunbeam enters a form, it casts a shadow that can be seen only on a surface. When Life enters a form, it casts a shadow—the body. It can be seen only in physical reality. On this stage, the story of awakening is unfolding.
What is seen is not the whole. The body is not the Self just as the shadow is not the sunbeam.
In our early consciousness, we were like infants—newly aware, but not yet able to understand. We saw only the body, and we were frightened and confused. We couldn’t yet perceive the Life animating it, or the Source behind it.
We could only conclude, “I must be this.” We identified with the body, the visible, the form. And from that misidentification, ego developed—a false self with a mind of its own.
It was the perfect contrast.
Ego’s Rise and the Illusion of Separation
Even Christ is revealed through contrast. Without ego—the anti-Christ—we would never be able to know the Christ within.
Ego became our guide, the architect of our lives. We created identities, hierarchies, and systems based on a mistaken identity—the belief that we are separately-existing beings rather than one Life, one Christ, one Self.
From this illusion, we built nations, doctrines, economies, and roles.
We ranked worth.
We defined borders.
We named “us” and “them.”
The more we built around it, the more we forgot the Sun. And worshiped this idol.
The sunbeam still shines, but the vessel is clouded—with fear, pride, and the desperate desire to be seen.
Ego on Parade
The ego loves a parade.
Loud. Glittering. Hollow.
The ego is like an actor on a dimly-lit stage. It has no identity of its own, so it borrows costumes—beliefs and ideologies.
Religious and political extremism offer certainty, identity, and belonging—thriving on “us vs. them.”
It clings to possessions. Money, status, and power offer the illusory “proof” of its existence. “I am what I own.”
Ego protects its image through judgment, superiority, and victimhood. It is the one who prays, “I thank you, God, that I’m not like that sinner over there.” It is the one constantly asking, “Where is my reward?”
It craves praise and recognition—these are the ego’s fuel. Without them, it feels invisible.
The Windshield Washer and the Still, Small Voice
Like any character on stage, the ego needs an audience, a script, and a spotlight to seem real.
The audience is our attention. The ego’s voice in the head is like the guy on the street who washes our car window at stoplights. But did we really need our windshield washed? No, yet we feel obligated to pay for his “service.”
The script is our conditioning—the rules we’ve learned to play our roles: gender, religion, class, and more. Ego fills us with shame when we forget our lines or act contrary to our roles. It’s always anxious because it can’t see Life’s next scene, so it improvises—badly.
The spotlight is our belief in it. We’ve listened for so long, paid attention for so long, that we mistake its voice for our own. Like the windshield washer, ego convinces us it’s doing us a favor.
The Voice of the Christ within is a still, small voice–a gentle prompting–an urge we get in the moment to do exactly what needs to be done. In the moment when our windshield is truly dirty and needs to be washed, we will know.
We don’t need the windshield washer. We need clarity—and that comes from within.
Without belief, the ego dissolves.
Without clinging, it has no shape.
It is not Christ, the True Self—it is simply a mask worn to be seen.
Who’s Driving?
Not only have we let the window washer clean our windshield— we’ve let him take the driver’s seat. He’s a horrible driver. He has no clue where we are, where we’re going, or how to get us there. He only pretends to know.
His driving fills us with fear and dread.
He swerves between extremes.
He speeds when we need stillness.
He stalls when we need courage.
He uses a map that will never lead us home.
But we are not powerless passengers.
We can thank him for his enthusiasm, and kindly ask him to take the back seat.
We can choose a different driver.
The Road of Trust
Christ is the Good Chauffeur.
Christ knows exactly where we are, where we’re going, and how to get us there.
Christ’s driving fills us with peace and joy.
There are no missed turns.
No frantic detours.
Just the quiet unfolding of grace.
We don’t need to know the whole map.
We don’t need to control the route.
We need only to trust the Driver.
Christ doesn’t rush.
Doesn’t miss turns.
Doesn’t need GPS.
Christ is the Way.
When we let go of the wheel,
we begin to feel the rhythm of grace.
We stop bracing for impact.
We stop second-guessing every curve.
We start to breathe.
The ego will protest.
It’s a back seat driver.
It will insist it knows a shortcut.
But we don’t have to listen.
We can turn down the volume.
We can rest in the seat of surrender.
We can watch the scenery change—
Without fear.
Without dread.
Peace is not the destination.
It’s the feeling of being driven by Love.
Returning to the Light
You are not the mask. You are not the role.
You are not the voice that shouts from the back seat.
You are the Light behind the form. You are the sunbeam, flowing from the Source. You are the quiet knowing that doesn’t need applause.
The ego will keep performing. It will keep washing the windshield, offering advice, asking for payment.
But you don’t have to believe it.
You don’t have to let it drive.
You can rest.
You can listen.
You can trust the Christ within.
There is no rush.
No test.
No hierarchy.
Only the gentle unfolding of grace.
Only the still, small voice saying,
“This way.”
Next Post: The Age of the Heart
Rev. Joan M. Kistler 