We all have a secret, deep-seated desire to be the main character in the movie of life.

From a young age, we are taught that to be loved, we must stand out. We need to excel, be admired, be unique, or possess a talent that makes people stop and stare.
We want to be the VIPs of our own existence. Sometimes this looks like loud, classic narcissism, shouting our achievements from the rooftops. But often, the desire to be “special” wears very subtle, even holy disguises.
It doesn’t just happen when we elevate ourselves; it also happens when we elevate others.
Take the spiritual world, for example. You might see a famous guru or teacher sitting on a stage, while crowds of people sit below, pressing their hands together in prayer
, weeping, or even wanting to kiss his feet.
On the surface, this looks like the ultimate display of humility and devotion. But if we look closer, it is the exact same trap. By putting someone else on a pedestal, the crowd is saying: “You are special. You have the Divine, and I am lacking. You are there, and I am here.” Whether you are the one demanding worship, or the one kneeling on the floor giving it away, the result is exactly the same: a massive, uncrossable gap is created between two human beings.
And this is exactly why the ego absolutely loves the concept of specialness.
According to A Course in Miracles, the entire illusion of the world we live in is built on one foundational error: the belief that we are separate from one another and from Love. To keep this dream of separation alive, the ego needs glue. And that glue is “specialness.”
If I am smarter than you, I am separate from you.
If I am more spiritually awakened than you, I am separate from you. Even if I am the biggest victim in the room and my suffering is more “special” than yours….I am separate from you. Specialness is the ego’s ultimate weapon to ensure we never truly connect, because true connection requires absolute equality.
But this usually triggers a very practical question: “What is wrong with being special? Look at a brilliant, world-class piano player. Their music is breathtaking. They ARE special! Are we supposed to pretend everyone is exactly the same?”
This is where we need a beautiful, eye-opening distinction between talent and identity.
A virtuosic pianist absolutely has a unique, highly developed skill. The way their fingers move across the keys is a rare expression of art. But the magic of a truly great musician is not that they use their music to prove they are better than you. When a master plays from the heart, you don’t sit in the audience feeling small, separated, or inferior. Instead, their music breaks down the walls. It moves you. It lifts you up into the exact same frequency of beauty that they are experiencing.
The ego uses a gift to build a stage and say, “Look at me, I am above you.” Love uses a gift to build a bridge and say, “Look at this beauty, it belongs to all of us.”
The piano player’s function in that moment is unique, but their Being is not more special than the person sweeping the floor after the concert. The moment the pianist starts believing that their ability to play Mozart makes them a fundamentally more valuable soul, the ego has hijacked the gift. The music becomes about feeding the performer’s specialness, rather than feeding the audience’s soul.
Waking up from the dream of separation doesn’t mean you have to stop playing the piano, stop painting, or stop being brilliantly funny. It simply means resigning from the exhausting job of trying to use those things to justify your existence.
There is an immense, quiet relief in stepping off the pedestal and in refusing to put anyone else on one. When we drop the heavy armor of needing to be “special,” we finally make room for something much more profound: the realization that we share the exact same Light.
We are just playing different notes…
With love and light,
G