By Gonny 
It’s 2025. We have quantum computers, telescopes, and people training robots to do the dishes…
And yet, there are still many who believe that a man and a woman once met a talking snake in a garden and changed the fate of humanity with a single bite of an apple.
We can call it a deep loyalty to stories that once made us feel safe, wrapped in meaning and divine order.
The story of Adam and Eve was written long after the events it describes and were never meant to have happened.
Most scholars agree that the Genesis account of Adam and Eve was composed around 950 B.C., probably by Hebrew writers drawing upon even older Mesopotamian myths.
It was later combined with priestly texts during the Babylonian exile, shaping the version we know today.
The “fall” was never meant as a moral failure, but as the moment consciousness discovered itself… and began to wonder who it was.
So when did the symbols fall asleep?
Perhaps the moment we began to take them too seriously.
When we stopped seeing with the inner eye and started measuring everything with the outer one.
When stories that were meant to wake us up became rules meant to keep us safe.
Symbols sleep when they are worshiped instead of understood.
They close their eyes when language becomes literal and the living Truth turns into tradition. Every time we defend the form and forget the meaning, another symbol falls into a quiet dream.
Yet they never die.
They wait….like ancient seeds…for the warmth of a questioning heart.
The moment someone dares to ask, “What does this really mean?” the symbol stirs, stretches, and opens its eyes again.
And what it shows us then is never about history, but about our own awakening from the dream.
It’s about the birth of self-awareness: the moment the One Mind imagined “me” and “you,” and forgot that both were still the same dreamer.
The serpent is that tiny thought of curiosity: “What if I could know more than Love?”
And God’s so-called punishment …pain, labor, exile , was never a divine reaction; it was simply the natural experience of believing you’re separate from your Source.
So why, in an age of quantum physics and spiritual psychology, do people still cling to the literal version?
Because it’s easier to believe in a man, a woman, and an apple,
than to face the deeper question: Am I still believing in that old dream of separation?
Literal belief is comforting. Symbolic understanding is liberating.
The first tells you what to think; the second invites you to look inside.
When we take the Bible literally, we freeze it in time.
When we see it symbolically, it becomes alive again:
Adam becomes the restless thinker in us,
Eve the feeling heart that longs for experience,
and the serpent the whispering ego that says, “Go on, try just one more illusion.”
And God? He never threw anyone out of Eden.
We simply closed our eyes and started dreaming of elsewhere.
The moment we stop defending our dream, the gate is wide open and we realize we never left.
Maybe that’s the new revelation of our century:
to read the old stories with awakened eyes,
to see that “six days of creation” and “one day of rest” were never cosmic time slots, but stages in the mind’s awakening until, on the seventh, we rest again in what was never lost.
So next time someone insists that the world was made in a week,
you might smile and say:
“Maybe so, but it took me a lifetime to stop believing it.”
With love and light,
G.