The Vehicle and the Source

The Flesh and the Soul

My flesh belongs to the universe;
my soul belongs to God—or perhaps, it is God.

Think of a car. It might be a luxurious machine or a modest vehicle—something admired or something barely noticed. Yet regardless of its form, its fate is the same. At the end of its journey, it returns to the junkyard, because steel is still steel, and all material belongs to this world.

But what about the energy within it—the spark that made it move? Though science explains the transfer of energy in many ways, at its core the truth remains as simple as what we learned as children:
energy cannot be created or destroyed; it can only be transformed.

I believe the same applies to us. The body is the vehicle, the flesh; and the soul is the energy that animates it. When the vehicle breaks down, the flesh returns to the earth that nurtured it, while the soul—the true driver—returns to its source.

Like energy, our souls were never truly created, nor can they ever be destroyed. They are eternal, infinite—the beginning and the end, the Alpha and the Omega. This, I believe, is the God within us.

Seen from this light, it becomes impossible to imagine God as something outside of us. Yet, I also find it impossible to believe that God could have created, or could be, something imperfect.
Therefore, the truest sense of who I am—and who you are—is already perfect. It is God itself.
Not many gods, but one.
Not divided, but one wholeness reflected within us all.

In this understanding, what we call imperfection or original sin is only an illusion of the flesh. “Good” and “bad” are merely judgments placed upon the flow of what is.

Still, I must be honest: perhaps all of this is simply our intelligence, our awareness, or our ego’s desperate attempt to find meaning—to survive beyond death. Maybe it’s just an evolved form of that primal instinct to live, or a fear of the possibility that when the body is gone, we are gone too. That there is no greater reason or purpose behind our brief existence.

Yet if we follow this question deeper—why are we experiencing life at all, if we are all God?—one possible answer emerges: perhaps God is like a child. Perhaps play is all there is. Maybe this entire universe is God’s way of exploring, expressing, and delighting in Himself through infinite forms of creation.

Who am I to claim the truth? For thousands of years, brilliant teachers have appeared—born of virgin mothers, under bright stars, enlightened, surrounded by twelve followers, dying and returning again.
Across cultures and centuries, their message has always echoed the same truth: God is within us all.
There are at least seven such figures throughout history, each telling the same story in their own way. My version is simply a quieter echo—less colorful, perhaps, but born from the same longing to understand.

I believe the soul’s journey is one of remembrance—to awaken and realize that it is God.
Yet for reasons we may never fully know, we are born into this flesh without that knowing.

But imagine—if you were to realize, at your very core, that you are God—how would it change the way you walk in this world?
Would you finally take full responsibility for your life, knowing that you are in complete control?
How would it transform your perception, your beliefs, your understanding of others and yourself?

Perhaps that is the real awakening—not to find God, but to remember that we never lost Him.