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God bless, Jesus loves you ✝️❤️

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secluded behind the waterfall summer retreat begins Basho

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You have heard it said: Love God and love your neighbor as yourself.

But I say to you: There are no neighbors, there is only God and God is Love

-tareq son of Joy

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Jean-Claude Silbermann — Jonas (oil paint on trimmed wood, 1992)

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Acts 9 as a Non-Dual Allegory: Saul, Metanoia, and the Shattering of Dualistic Vision

The ninth chapter of Acts, classically read as the conversion of Saul to Paul, is far more than a biographical record or a morality tale about repentance. In the light of perennial, non-dual spirituality and the emerging insights of neo-Christian non-duality, this passage becomes a profound allegory about the transformation from the sin of dualistic judgment to the healing grace of open, transpersonal awareness.

Judgment and Misunderstanding: Saul as the Embodiment of Dualistic Ego

Saul, as depicted at the opening of Acts 9, is not simply an individual with misplaced zeal. He is an archetype of the “I” that misapprehends the living truth of unity. Saul persecutes the followers of The Way because he clings to a literal, conceptual reading of scripture. In this sense, Saul symbolizes the egoic mind, rooted in dualism—self vs. other, right vs. wrong, law vs. grace.

His persecution of the “witnesses” of pure awareness is not unlike the mind’s tendency to reject or misunderstand states of consciousness that transcend its categories. The witnesses are those who have tasted or abided in non-conceptual unity—“pure awareness”—and are thus threats to the egoic structure. Saul’s aggression is the aggression of ego defending itself against annihilation.

The Blinding Light: Metanoia as Shattering of Conceptual Mind

Saul’s journey to Damascus is interrupted by a blinding light—a perennial symbol of the sudden eruption of non-dual awareness into the limited space of conceptual mind. The light is so intense, so direct, that it obliterates his ordinary vision. In the non-dual context, this is the shattering of the mind’s habitual categories, the annihilation of the dualistic lens through which reality is normally perceived.

This experience is described as “metanoia,” a term too often mistranslated as “repentance” in the moral sense. Its true meaning is “beyond mind” or “change of mind”—not a decision or act of will, but an existential leap, a radical shift in perception. The light blinds Saul, signifying that genuine encounter with open awareness is so bright, so non-conceptual, that it renders the ordinary, judging mind inoperative, if only for a time.

Straight Street, the Serpent, and the Healing of Vision

Saul’s journey continues on “Straight Street,” an evocative symbol of the non-dual path—direct, uncompromising, neither veering left nor right. The reference is not incidental; it speaks to the perennial spiritual insight that Truth is “straight,” unmediated, beyond the maze of conceptual distinctions.

When “something like scales” falls from Saul’s eyes, the symbolism deepens. The “scales” echo the serpent of Eden, whose dualistic wisdom (knowledge of good and evil) is the root of the divided, self-other mind. Saul is thus a serpent, living in the fallenness of dualistic perception—a child exiled from the garden of unity, imprisoned in judgment. The scales also suggest scabs, the healing of wounded vision by grace; the grace of God—personified by Ananias (“God is gracious”)—heals Saul from the blindness inflicted by serpent-mind.

“Why Do You Persecute Me?”: The Voice of Unity

The question Saul hears, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” is an invitation to metanoia. Its deeper translation: Why do you persist in viewing the world through the lens of self and other, failing to see all as One? In persecuting “them,” Saul persecutes the One—Christ as open, non-dual awareness manifest in all beings.

From Second-Hand to First-Hand Faith

Following this experience, Saul does not immediately become a perfect embodiment of non-dual consciousness. He becomes Paul—the “egoic witness,” the one who has GLIMPSED non-duality but still speaks from the vantage point of one who has witnessed rather than fully abided in it. Paul can point toward the transpersonal, he can testify to the reality of pure awareness, but, like most of us, he moves between the world of form and the world of formlessness but he does not persistently abide in Christ as expressed in his own words.

This is the path from “second-hand faith”—belief in inherited concepts or authority—to “first-hand faith”—direct knowledge grounded in experience of non-dual grace.

The Absence of Free Will and the Role of Grace

Crucially, Saul’s transformation is not portrayed as the result of his own choosing. The blinding light, the voice, the healing by Ananias (“God is gracious”) all underscore the absence of free will in the deepest sense. Saul does not decide to convert; he is overwhelmed by grace, by forces beyond egoic control. In the non-dual tradition, this is the determinism of grace—the inevitability of awakening, when the time ripens.

Ananias, the agent of healing, is not simply a character but the personification of divine grace, of the deterministic, impersonal force that shatters the illusion of separateness and heals the blindness of the dualistic mind.

Conclusion: The Non-Dual Heart of Acts 9

Acts 9, read through the lens of neo-Christian non-duality, is a living allegory of the passage from the sin of judgment and division to the healing vision of unity and open awareness. Saul’s story is our story—the story of every egoic mind defending itself against annihilation, blinded by its own concepts, yet inevitably overtaken by the grace that restores the sight of unity. Faith, in this context, is not second-hand belief, but the direct recognition of that which cannot be named, only witnessed—a recognition made possible, not by will, but by the gracious determinism of the Divine.

In the end, Acts 9 is not about becoming Christian in the conventional sense, but about awakening from the dream of separation to the luminous, gracious Oneness that is the ground of all being.

tareq of Joy

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The Illusion of Separation and the Nature of God: A Metaphorical Exploration of Self, Unity, and Transcendence

The human experience is often interpreted through the lens of individuality, with the self perceived as distinct and separate from others, from nature, and from the divine. Yet across contemplative traditions and metaphysical reflections, there persists a recurring theme: the self is not what it appears to be. Rather than a separate entity, the self is a fleeting formation within a greater unity. This essay unpacks several metaphors that illuminate the illusion of the separate self, the nature of God, and the existential distinction between illusion and liberation—hell and heaven—not as afterlife destinations, but as modes of perception and being.

1. Wave in the Ocean

The wave appears unique, distinct, even autonomous—but it is nothing apart from the ocean. Its form is temporary, shaped by currents and wind, yet its essence is always water. The wave symbolizes the individual self. It feels singular, yet its reality is inseparable from the vast ocean of being. To mistake the wave for a separate identity is to live in illusion—this is hell: a life driven by separation, anxiety, comparison, and fear of dissolution. Enlightenment—heaven—is the recognition that the wave is never apart from the ocean. God, in this metaphor, is not outside or other but iis everything: the totality in which all forms arise and return.

2. Whirlpool in the Ocean

A whirlpool is a temporary concentration of movement. It has no fixed boundaries, no independent substance—only the swirling of the ocean itself. The self, like the whirlpool, is a dynamic process. It forms, persists briefly, then dissolves. Hell is the grasping to fix that form, to believe the whirlpool is separate and has a self-generated existence. Heaven is the surrender into the flow, recognizing that even the vortex is the ocean itself just in a particular pattern. Here, God is the stage, process and the presence—the invisible principle by which all motion happensanf the arena within which it happens. Everything. The illusion of separation is believing the whirlpool has agency; the truth is that the ocean alone moves.

3. Weather in the Sky

Weather is transient, mutable, unpredictable. The sky remains unchanged behind it. Emotions, thoughts, and identities are the weather; awareness is the sky. The self, often identified with storm and sunshine, is thus a fleeting overlay on the vast canvas of consciousness. To identify with the weather is to suffer; to abide as the sky is to be free. Hell is to be lost in the weather. Heaven is clarity—not absence of weather, but non-attachment to it and abidance in and as the container within which everything is happening. God in this metaphor is the sky and the weather: vast, unconditioned awareness  and the phenomena that it contains. Everything

4. Rainbows

Rainbows seem physical, almost tangible, yet they are not physical objects—they are phenomena of perspective. The self, like a rainbow, is a perceptual artifact. It appears to be “there,” solid and graspable, but dissolves upon examination. The illusion of separation is born from mistaking the rainbow for a substance. To awaken is to see that the rainbow—and the self—is not what it seemed. God here is the light refracted through multiplicity, always everythingHell is trying to possess what was never a thing. Heaven is delighting in the beauty without clinging.

5. Spectator in a Movie Theater

One watches a film, becoming immersed in the narrative, forgetting it is just a projection. The self is the character in the movie—compelling, emotional, seemingly autonomous. The moment of awakening comes when the spectator remembers they are watching, not being, the film. The swing between being lost in the story (illusion/separation) and remembering the seat in the theater (truth/unity) is the spiritual journey. Hell is to forget utterly, to become the story. Heaven is not leaving the theater but recognizing the story for what it is and in abiding in it as the screen with detached awareness. God is everything but specifically in this metaphor is the light through which the images are projected, ever-present regardless of the content on screen. Everything.

6. Lucid Dream

In dreams, one encounters objects, people, even a dream self—but all is of the same fabric, the same sand if you will. Upon lucidity, the dreamer realizes the dream is not made of discrete parts but of one continuous essence. So it is with reality: everything perceived is of one substance—awareness. The illusion of separation is the dream’s trick. Enlightenment is to become lucid, to realize that the self, the world, and even the sense of duality are dream-stuff made from God. Hell is the nightmare of mistaken reality. Heaven is lucidity within the dream. God is the dreamer, the dream, and the dreaming. you guessed it, everything

7. Dirty Mirror vs. Clean Mirror

A mirror reflects whatever stands before it. Dirt on the mirror distorts, obscures, colors perception. The ego—the constructed self—is the dirt. When the mirror is clean, it does not disappear; it becomes functionally invisible. Only the reflection carried thru light remains. The illusion of the self is the belief that the dirt is essential to the mirror's existence. Hell is identifying with the grime. Heaven is abidance in unwavering selfless transparency—when the mirror reflects purely, there is no sense of separation, no “me” distinct from what is. God is not just the image or the mirror but the capacity to reflect all things without preference. Everything

The True Meaning of Transcendence

Much has been made of repentance as a moral or behavioral correction. But the deeper etymological root of what Yeshua was first translated as saying "metanoeite" speaks not to guilt, but to transformation—to go beyond the mind. His command in its original sense is a return to awareness beyond conceptual identity. Each metaphor described above reveals the self as a construction and invites a turning from misidentification.

Hell, then, is not a place but a state of confusion—a misreading of what we are. Heaven is abiding in what remains when the illusions dissolve. And God, in each of these metaphors, is not a distant authority but the ever-present source: the ocean beneath the wave, the sky behind the weather, the light of the movie, the lucidity of the dream, the clarity of the mirror.

The journey, therefore, is not toward something but through the illusions of separation, to what has always been true: there is no distance between the self and God because the self is a passing wave in God’s ocean. The return of the prodigal son is not a literal story about a relocation but a metaphor for this sacred remembrance. What was never truly lost is simply seen again, clearly, for what it is. Everything.

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"When Jesus spoke about “hell,” the word he actually used in the original language was “Gehenna.” Gehenna wasn’t an otherworldly realm of eternal torment; it was a real, physical place: the Valley of Hinnom, just outside Jerusalem. In the centuries before Jesus, this valley was infamous as the site of horrific child sacrifices. By Jesus’ day, it had become a cursed garbage dump—smoldering, stinking, and filled with the refuse of society: trash, dead animals, and even the bodies of the disgraced. Its very name evoked shame, regret, and destruction.

So when Jesus spoke of Gehenna, he wasn’t describing a literal afterlife destination where God tortures people forever. He was invoking a visceral, shared cultural memory—warning his listeners not to let their lives, communities, and choices become like that ruined, alienated place. Gehenna was a metaphor for a living hell, a state marked by self-destruction, alienation, bitterness, and waste—a reality that, in a sense, people could experience now.

In fact, the traditional Jewish view of the afterlife didn’t include anything like the modern “hell.” Ancient Judaism taught that after death, souls went to “Sheol”—a shadowy, neutral realm, not a place of punishment or reward. The notion of fiery, conscious torment after death arose centuries later, as ideas from Greek culture (like Hades and Tartarus) merged with evolving Jewish thought. As Christianity spread through the Greco-Roman world, these concepts mingled further. Later, European translators—most famously those behind the King James Bible—flattened multiple distinct words (Gehenna, Hades, Tartarus) into a single term: “hell.” This translation decision, more than anything in the original texts, set the stage for the medieval, Dante-esque imagination of hell as a cosmic torture chamber.

But these vivid images of eternal torment are not what Jesus or his original audience would have understood. They are the product of translation choices, mythological imports, and centuries of cultural evolution—especially Western, not Middle Eastern, thinking.

The Mystical Reality: Hell as a Psychological State

Here’s what’s even more profound:

When we strip away the baggage, the deepest reading of “hell” in Jesus’ teachings is not about the afterlife at all, but about our lived psychological and spiritual reality. “Hell” is, at its core, a description of the human condition—a state of mind, a way of being marked by alienation, shame, and a sense of separation from love, meaning, and belonging. It is the torment of feeling fundamentally lost, disconnected, unworthy, unforgiven, unseen.

This “hell” is not somewhere we go after death—it’s a place many of us know all too well, right here, right now. In fact, if you look around honestly, most people spend much of their lives in some version of this state: haunted by regret, ruled by compulsions, bitter over old wounds, afraid of judgment or rejection, disconnected from others and from themselves. Hell is not fire and brimstone—it’s the gnawing sense that you are outside the circle of love.

When Jesus talked about Gehenna, he was warning: Don’t let your life become that valley. Don’t turn away from compassion and inclusion. Don’t exile yourself from the presence of love.

Heaven: The Dissolution of the Separate Self

On the flip side, what about “heaven”? Jesus talked about the “kingdom of God”—but he didn’t describe it as a future reward or a distant realm. Over and over, he said, “the kingdom of God is within you.” This isn’t about going somewhere after you die; it’s about waking up now to a new state of consciousness and being.

In the purest, most mystical reading—shared by Christian contemplatives and Eastern traditions alike—heaven is a state where the separate, judging self dissolves. It is the realization that there is only love, only being, only God, and we are not separate from it. There is no more “inside” or “outside,” “worthy” or “unworthy”—there is just presence, acceptance, union. In Buddhist language, this is akin to rigpa in Dzogchen: the recognition of pure awareness, untouched by conceptual division or self-judgment. In Mahayana Buddhism, it resembles the “Pure Land”—not as a place, but as a state of mind free from delusion, anxiety, and fear.

The arc of human psychological and spiritual development, seen through this lens, is about moving from the hell of isolation, separation, fear, and self-contraction to the heaven of openness, presence, and selfless love. As Jesus taught, the only real “hell” is believing you are separated from Gods love; the only real “heaven” is realizing you are, and always have been, at home in it.

The Prodigal Son: A Blueprint for Transformation

This is the heart of the parable of the prodigal son. The story isn’t about God threatening punishment. It’s about a son who believes he has separated himself from love—who descends into his own personal hell of regret, alienation, and self-judgment. But when he returns, he discovers that home, acceptance, and love were always waiting for him. The father never stopped loving; the separation existed only in the son’s mind.

The Invitation: Out of Hell, Into Heaven—Now

You don’t have to wait for another life to experience heaven, nor do you need to fear “hell” as something God inflicts on you. You are not living under the threat of abandonment or endless torment. The invitation is to wake up—to realize that you are already included, already loved, already home. Heaven is the dissolution of the judging, fearful self; hell is the illusion of separation. Most people already know “hell” from the inside out. The good news—the real gospel—is that the doors of love are always open, and nothing can keep you out except the belief that you are excluded.

If you want to go deeper—historically, linguistically, theologically, or contemplatively—I can point you to resources and voices from across traditions who echo this same, liberating vision. Don’t take my word for it—go and see for yourself.

Peace isn’t something you have to earn or achieve. It’s what remains when the walls of fear and judgment fall away.

The only real “hell” is not realizing it.

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Profound and tranquil, free from complexity, uncompounded luminous clarity, beyond the mind of conceptual ideas; this is the depth of the mind of the Victorious Ones. In this there is not a thing to be removed, nor anything that needs to be added. It is merely the immaculate looking naturally at itself.

~Nyoshul Khenpo Rinpoche

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New testament authorship

Let’s break down directly and clearly, sticking strictly to the scholarly consensus and historical facts about the New Testament’s authorship, why American mainstream Christianity often doesn’t teach this, and what the Bible actually is.

1. Factual Authorship of the New Testament

Scholarly consensus—meaning mainstream, non-fundamentalist academic biblical studies—has long since established that most New Testament books are either anonymous or pseudonymous. Here’s a summary of the best evidence for each:

The Gospels

• Matthew, Mark, Luke, John:

None of the gospels name their authors in the original texts. The names were assigned later, likely in the second century, to give the texts apostolic authority.

• Mark: The earliest gospel. Author is unknown; traditionally attributed to “Mark,” but no evidence supports this.

• Matthew: Anonymous. Tradition credits “Matthew,” but the text copies much from Mark (odd for an eyewitness apostle).

• Luke: Anonymous. Author was educated, not an eyewitness, probably a companion of Paul, but not necessarily named “Luke.”

• John: Anonymous. Tradition attributes it to John the Apostle, but the text itself never says this, and internal evidence suggests it wasn’t written by a direct eyewitness.

Pauline Epistles

• Undisputed letters of Paul: Scholars are confident Paul wrote seven letters: Romans, 1 & 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Philippians, 1 Thessalonians, Philemon.

• Deutero-Pauline letters (disputed authorship): Ephesians, Colossians, 2 Thessalonians. Most scholars think these were written by followers of Paul in his name.

• Pastoral Epistles: 1 & 2 Timothy, Titus. Overwhelming scholarly consensus: written long after Paul’s death, by unknown authors using his name.

• Hebrews: Anonymous. The text itself never claims Paul as author, and the Greek style and theology are very different from Paul’s letters.

Other Letters

• James: Anonymous; attributed to “James,” but which James? There were several. Highly unlikely the brother of Jesus wrote it.

• 1 & 2 Peter: Almost universally agreed by scholars that Peter did not write these, especially 2 Peter, which is clearly pseudonymous.

• 1, 2, 3 John: Anonymous. 2 & 3 John are brief and refer to “the elder.” No evidence these were written by John the Apostle.

• Jude: Claims to be by “Jude, the brother of James,” but there’s no way to verify this, and the letter is highly stylized.

Revelation

• Revelation: Claims authorship by “John,” but it’s almost certainly not the same John as the gospel, given radically different Greek, theology, and style.

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2. Why American Mainstream Christianity Is Unfamiliar With This

Several reasons explain the gap between academic knowledge and mainstream Christian belief:

A. Tradition and Catechism

• Churches teach tradition, not historical criticism. Sunday school, sermons, and even many seminaries rely on inherited attributions (Matthew wrote Matthew, etc.) because these give the texts apostolic authority and reinforce doctrinal unity.

B. Institutional Interests

• The church’s power and authority rest on the idea that scripture is divinely inspired, authoritative, and connected directly to Jesus and his apostles. Admitting most books are anonymous, pseudonymous, or written generations later could undermine confidence and religious authority.

C. Anti-Intellectualism and Distrust of Academia

• Many American denominations (especially Evangelical and Fundamentalist branches) view “secular scholarship” with suspicion, seeing it as hostile to faith. Academic biblical criticism is often dismissed as biased, “worldly,” or “faithless.”

D. Lack of Religious Literacy

• Most Christians don’t read the Bible deeply, let alone read critical scholarship. Religious education in the U.S. is shallow; most believers simply inherit beliefs from family and community.

E. Publishing and Media

• Christian publishers, bookstores, and media overwhelmingly promote traditional views. Scholarly works rarely reach the mass audience, and if they do, they’re often denounced as heretical.

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3. What the Bible Actually Is (Factually)

The Bible Is:

• A Human Anthology: The Bible is a collection of ancient texts, written by dozens of different people over many centuries. The New Testament was written in Greek, by Jews and Gentiles in the eastern Roman Empire, between roughly 50 CE and 120 CE.

• A Library, Not a Book: It’s not a single book, but an anthology—each “book” with its own agenda, context, style, and theology.

• Anonymous or Pseudonymous Works: The vast majority of its books do not name their authors. Most names attached to biblical books (Moses, Matthew, etc.) are traditions, not claims made by the texts themselves.

• Edited and Redacted: Many biblical books were edited, redacted, or compiled from earlier sources, both oral and written. Some gospels and epistles were likely revised over time.

• Political and Theological Documents: Each book has its own agenda. Some gospels and letters were written to address controversies, define orthodoxy, or combat rival Christian sects.

• Product of Historical Communities: The texts reflect the beliefs, hopes, struggles, and politics of various early Christian communities, not a unified, consistent message.

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4. What the Bible Is Not

• Not Dictated by God: There is no evidence any part was directly dictated by God to a scribe. Even the writers themselves rarely claim this.

• Not Eyewitness History: The gospels are not eyewitness accounts. They were written decades after the events they describe, drawing on oral traditions and earlier sources.

• Not Consistent or Inerrant: The Bible is full of contradictions, differing theologies, and even mutually exclusive accounts (see the resurrection narratives, genealogies of Jesus, and chronology of Paul’s life).

• Not Frozen or Unchanging: The canon itself was debated for centuries, with books being added and removed. The version Protestants use is different from Catholic and Orthodox canons.

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5. Bottom Line

The New Testament is a messy, complex collection of ancient texts, written mostly by unknown authors, with competing theologies and purposes, reflecting the turbulent, diverse origins of Christianity. The myth that it is a single, unified, divinely authored, eyewitness record is a product of later tradition, religious politics, and the need for institutional authority—not historical reality.

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I have seen people in this forum and in real life say that they want to, or do, believe in Jesus and God, but in their own words they express that don’t really understand practical and transformational application of Jesus' teachings and or Christianity (which are not always the same). I'm compelled to share my perspective on this dynamic.

In my opinion and lived experience, they seem to get confused about what the goals actually are and how to achieve them consistently, because so much extra stuff has been put on top of it that isn’t really real—like magical thinking, fantasy, and supernatural stuff that sets up unrealistic expectations, such as prosperity gospel and praying for miracles or exhibitions, while ignoring the real nature of God as God is revealing itself. In other words, they want God to be their way, instead of getting to know God; they have preconceived notions of what and how God is.

Personally, I’ve come to the conclusion that if you want to understand the practical application of Christianity, it may help to familiarize yourself with the Dzogchen tradition, Chan or Zen Buddhism, or even Advaita Vedanta to some degree, because they get you to what is arguably the same place as it relates to the realization of no-mind and no-self phenomenologically, as roughly described by transpersonal psychology. But they actually offer you a step-by-step process, with recognizable landmarks to identify where you are. Whereas Christianity is pointing in the same direction, to the same place, but it’s been distorted by so many people—people who present as, or seem to be, unfamiliar with the experiential, transpersonal, phenomenological aspect—that they don’t recognize, or have lost the will and wherewithal, to translate the parts that are actually indicative of the process.

I’m not saying these other traditions are perfect or infallible, nor am I saying they are clearer or better. Far from it. But they all have different features; those features have implications, and comparing them all together offers a more holistic vision of what the real game is, in my humble opinion. I’m not saying to convert; I’m saying that by familiarizing yourself with why they do what they do, it becomes easier to see the core of Abrahamic practices that may have been obscured for one reason or another through history. Who knows, you might come to see metanoia as a direct call, instruction, or invitation to go beyond the mind, similarly to how Zen approaches no-mind. It’s not that these directives aren’t there—it’s just that, for numerous reasons, mainstream theology has leaned away from its mystical roots (I’m not a fan of the word ‘mystical,’ but it’s generally how history categorizes Meister Eckhart, Teresa, and others who discovered the experiential dissolution that Jesus was talking about).

For example, as a modern American Christian, generally speaking, most are left with a sense of the end result—or an end result of some kind—as well as the tension that arises from the awareness that you aren’t there, with little instruction and no real way of understanding how to get there from where you are, beyond feeling guilty and waiting for death, which is clearly a misunderstanding at best. Jesus harped on the fact that Heaven is here now, but people consistently overlook this and suffer while waiting on the idea of heaven in a physical afterlife, not realizing the point seems to be: die egoically now so that you can have a new anointed life.

That said, ironically, the recognition of no-self and no-mind supports the idea that there is no one to do anything, but the other traditions allow the illusion to act as a conditioning force that may or may not lead to more transformative experiences. Look at it like this: as humans, we don’t choose to grow, but there can be environmental factors that affect our growth positively or negatively. I’m saying that the same applies to enlightenment as an existential developmental milestone, and I’m saying some traditions offer more effective conditioning in that regard.

To be clear, this is not an argument against moralism or institutions, nor am I saying that these things are not present in other traditions, because they are. I’m simply stating that, in my humble experience, much of modern mainstream Western American Christianity might be overemphasizing certain aspects of spirituality and neglecting a very significant aspect in the process. In a sense, modern Christianity in general is now in hamartia and is ripe for metanoia on a global scale. Apocalyptic revelation, if you will.

One might argue this is relativistic, syncretism, or even eisegesis. To that, I say: nobody knows what Jesus actually said, or in what language he said it, so it’s all eisegesis. As for syncretism—okay, maybe but every historical interpretation has been guilty of syncretism. Why do you think we celebrate Christmas and easter when we do? What most ppl call Christianity is more Greco Roman at times than the Jewish much less 1st century Palestinian MUCH LESS in alignment with the spirit of the teachings of Christ. Let's at least be honest about that. As for relativism? Says who? Here’s the issue: if you have not had the experience of ego dissolution, you are, by the very nature of the experience, unequipped to agree or disagree. That’s not unique to this particular discussion; that’s how reality itself works. Reality, by its very nature, is exclusivistic. By Jesus’ very words, he was acutely aware of the narrow gate and the singular aspect of ego dissolution as a human developmental milestone. While you are free to disagree or agree with this stance, the burden of proof isn’t on me to prove that this is valid, as that is completely and utterly unprovable by anyone. That does not mean it’s not testable—to some degree, it is—but the probability of one experiencing this state seems to increase with one’s awareness that it exists and is available. Hence, the motivation for me to share.

It’s really just an invitation to look and see for yourself. If it doesn’t enhance your relationship with God and/or if it causes you discomfort you cannot process, feel free to ignore it. That’s a responsible stance, in my opinion. I don’t share this to convince; I share it as an observation because I see a lot of Christians themselves admitting that they are confused and lost within the tradition in a way that this perspective might offer respite from—and if it resonates with you, cool. If not? That’s cool too. It’s all love on this side.

Some might say, “Well, could all of the mistranslation and distortion and harmful manipulation of Jesus’ teaching be a part of God’s plan?” No question. There is nothing in existence that is not God, because God is both existence as experienced by the human mind and, arguably, the source of existence beyond what the human mind can comprehend. One could imagine that, between all of the faith traditions, the vast majority of humanity has some spiritual belief, and Christianity has played a large part in providing a universal language of sorts. Now that language can be reclaimed, and a large swath of humanity can be introduced to the nondual, transpersonal state in ways that may not have been possible without the hardening of minds and hearts over the last 2,000 years. If the power of belief can be redirected from the supernatural fantasies to believing in the real possibly for psychological transformation, it would be a civilizational game changer. 

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Richard Cartwright (British, 1951) - The Railway Line in Spring (2023)