“Narcissus is an idol of creativity, of source.
He is the solar plexus.
He waits outside the heart.
The image he sees in the water is his own heart.
Thus, he sacrifices his heart to it.
The water is his own mind, the plane of all images.”
The Knee of Listening, Adi Da Samraj, 1972
The Parable of the Blinded Villagers
Once in a distant village, there was a wise man known for his deep understanding of the mysteries of life. He spoke of a realm of radiant light, a “First Room” of Consciousness, where the essence of all things was pure and untainted. The villagers, accustomed to the dim light of their own small lamps, could not comprehend such a place.
One day, the wise man, whose name was Raymond Darling, began to share the secrets of this “First Room” openly, offering his wisdom and grace to any who would listen. But rather than embracing his teachings, the villagers grew fearful. His words seemed to challenge the comfort of their familiar darkness. They whispered among themselves, and soon, their fear turned into anger.
“He must be mad,” they said. “How can he speak of such light when we have never seen it? He must be put away, and if necessary, done away with.”
This story is not new. Throughout history, those who dare to illuminate the path of truth have often been met with hostility. In our modern world, this pattern seems more pronounced. Adi Da, in the first edition of The Knee of Listening, observed that creativity has become the “idol of the West.” Indeed, we see this in the proliferation of motivational speakers and self-help gurus over the past decades.
Creativity, in its essence, is a natural and beautiful aspect of human existence. But when it becomes an end in itself, it can easily be subverted by the ego. Adi Da helps us understand this danger through the myth of Narcissus, the one who gazes into the water and falls in love with his own reflection, mistaking it for his heart. The water, a metaphor for the mind, becomes a mirror that traps Narcissus in a false image of truth.
In this light, we can see the fear that drives Evelyn Disk, the tragic figure in The Scapegoat Book, and why Raymond Darling’s fate seems sealed. The ego, in its desperate clinging to self, shuns the wisdom of the heart. It mocks and defames the true knowledge that threatens its illusion of creativity and control.
Adi Da warns us of this perilous path, where the ego’s endless pursuit of a perfect, imagined utopia leads only to dissatisfaction. The ego, in its blindness, cannot see that true fulfillment lies in sacrifice, self-relinquishment, and renunciation. The Scapegoat Book serves as a “Hard! Parable” of this struggle, urging us to recognize Evelyn Disk not as a distant caricature but as a mirror of our own spiritual shortcomings.
If we fail to see ourselves in this reflection, we risk remaining like the villagers—blinded by our own fear, forever turning away from the light that Raymond Darling, and others like him, have tried to share.
Beezone