Beyond Duality

An introduction to the two within

I’ve always wrestled with the idea of dualism—the notion that everything exists in two opposing forces: God and the devil, Adam and Eve, spirit and flesh, light and dark. It’s been a lifelong tug-of-war in my heart and mind, as if my soul remembers something my consciousness has forgotten.

At times, it feels like I once knew a truth that slipped from memory, and my spirit keeps trying to remind me of it: there is no true separation—only oneness. I believe the concept of the devil was created to help us explain what we couldn’t comprehend. It gave form to the mystery of suffering and contradiction. In that sense, dualism was a tool, not a truth.

The story of Adam and Eve once seemed like a simple tale of sin and disobedience, but now I see it as symbolic of something deeper: the separation of consciousness from awareness, the split between spirit and flesh. That moment in the garden wasn’t just about eating fruit—it was the awakening of self-awareness and the birth of perception, which brought both blessing and burden.

Throughout history, sages and prophets have tried to guide us back toward unity. Jesus said, “You are gods.” He reminded us that we, too, can do the things he did—and even greater. His words weren’t contradictions; they were keys to truth. He spoke in parables because truth cannot simply be told—it must be experienced.

Perhaps he even veiled his teachings so that those who sought power could not corrupt them. Yet, over time, corruption still crept in—just as it has in every religion, every denomination, every era.

Six centuries before Jesus, Buddha—a man, not a deity—reached enlightenment after years of self-denial. He discovered that neither indulgence nor extreme deprivation led to truth. He called his discovery the Middle Way, teaching that extremes only deepen illusion. The same dualistic thinking that divides good and evil also blinds us to the simple truth that all is one.

In Hinduism, the cycle of reincarnation symbolizes spiritual evolution—from the simplest life forms to the dancing divine. It’s a story of progression toward unity and awareness. In every culture, every tradition, the same truth echoes beneath different names: oneness is the destination.

Jesus, though born and raised a Jew, taught what we now call Christ Consciousness—not as a title or religion, but as an awareness available to all. It’s not about worshiping a man; it’s about awakening the divine within ourselves.

Perception is both our greatest gift and our greatest veil. It allows us to interpret and reframe reality, to “fake it till we make it,” to see things positively even when we don’t yet understand them. But perception is still part of duality—it implies contrast, perspective, and judgment. True awareness is beyond perception; it simply is.

When we stop labeling things as good or bad, when we let go of the need to explain and categorize, we move closer to awareness. Perception helps us grow, but awareness sets us free.

Prayer and meditation, in their purest forms, are gateways to this awareness. The Gnostics spoke of reaching transcendent states where the mind becomes still and the soul sees clearly. Buddha called this enlightenment. Jesus called it oneness with the Father. Different paths, same destination.

We are not just flesh and bone; we are divine consciousness clothed in matter. Our journey is to rediscover that connection—to remember who we truly are. We must seek until the reflection we see in ourselves is everything—until we see God, truth, and unity in all.

We suffer because we believe rather than know. Belief implies doubt; awareness erases it. I still live in belief and perception, but I sense glimpses of truth—moments of clarity where I feel the unity of all things. Those moments remind me that oneness is not a goal—it is reality itself.

Dualism has long been projected outward: God in the heavens, the devil in our hearts; sin within us, salvation beyond. But I believe both good and evil reside within because we’ve created or allowed these concepts to exist rather than just see what is, and our task is not to choose one side but to reconcile what is.

When we unite spirit and flesh, perfection and imperfection, we dissolve the illusion of conflict. Like the yin and yang, each side contains a trace of the other, and both are held within the infinite circle of wholeness. When we see this truth, judgment falls away. We stop fighting ourselves—and finally find peace.

Buddha taught the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path as a way out of suffering through right thought, right speech, right action. Jesus taught love and righteousness in union with God. Gandhi taught nonviolence. Martin Luther King Jr. and Mandela lived the same awareness in action. Different words, same vibration: oneness through compassion and awareness.

Maybe we are all tuning ourselves to that same divine frequency. Perhaps life is a process of adjusting the dial, moving from 87.1 to 107.1—finding the clear signal of truth. There’s nothing wrong with where we begin; it’s all part of the same spectrum. We simply need to tune in.

I don’t know whether this life is one of many or the only one. I don’t know if we were born of divine breath or artificial design. But something deep within me whispers that there is meaning—that everything is connected, that my purpose is to keep seeking that connection.

And whether I find it or not, I am grateful for the journey. To live, to question, to awaken—that is the miracle.