The Epigenesis and Development of New Genetic Capacities
From the lamp, once polished, came the djinn – an allegory of how life’s experiences shape us.
Djinn, Gene, Genius: A Hidden Force Revealed
Much has been written in recent decades about the new science of epigenesis – not just the transmission of faulty genes or inherited illnesses, but the potential to activate beneficial genetic coding. InnerDialogue has been quietly engaging with this domain for over forty years. Long before this scientific paradigm gained momentum, our work with the Djinn – or Jinn – provided a symbolic framework for understanding how these latent capacities may be activated.
While not always named in clinical terms, our practitioners have long been trained to perceive the influence of such forces within the therapeutic narrative. We propose that the Djinn represents a power – a being, an entity, or a force – that can either activate or suppress genetic code. They are not merely metaphorical. These forces are understood as alive and responsive. They switch on genes that govern both degenerative tendencies and transformative ones. They may catalyse behaviours, capacities, or trajectories – but only if the environment is conducive.
Science affirms: for genes to express, their surrounding environment must support them. This includes cellular health, nutrition, psycho-emotional state, relational coherence, community, climate, and economic stability. The code can be present, but unless conditions are right, it lies dormant.
Our tradition views these forces through the prism of the Djinn.
The Djinn: Hidden Ones
In Arabic, the etymology of jinn derives from جَنَّ (janna) – to conceal, to hide. Djinn are unseen entities, existing parallel to us. The Qur’an states:
“Indeed We created man from dried clay of black smooth mud. And We created the Jinn before that from the smokeless flame of fire.”
— Qur’an 15:26–27
These beings – made of light or smokeless fire – are described as contemporaries and companions to humans. In early Arab traditions, the jinn were associated with madness, possession, and illness – an affliction from the unseen. The root ج ن ن (j-n-n) even gives us junna (to become insane), suggesting these forces were seen as disruptive but also powerful.
In other traditions, particularly Indo-Iranian and Turkic languages, we find cognates of the word jan or can (pronounced “john”): soul, breath, spirit, force. These terms are widespread – from Persian جان (jân) to Turkish can, Armenian ǰan, Kazakh жан (jan), and even into the Slavic džan. Many of these derive from Proto-Indo-European roots related to breath and life force – to breathe, to animate.
The English word genie comes via French génie, which was itself used to translate Arabic jinn. The Latin geniusreferred to a tutelary or guardian spirit – a protective, inner daemon associated with destiny and innate capacity. In modern genetics, we speak of genes as units of hereditary instruction, sequences of DNA coding for traits or proteins. From jinn to gene, from genie to genius – these are threads of transmission, mutation, and realisation.
We might now ask: where does genius arise? Is it gifted by spirit, awakened in crisis, inherited as potential, or nurtured through environment and grace?
The Story of Aladdin: A Teaching in Layers
The tale of Alāʼ ad-Dīn – nobility of faith – is more than folklore. Whether from China or Baghdad, its origins are less important than its encoded message. Though a late addition to The Thousand and One Nights, it has endured because it speaks across time. It is a story of descent, forgetfulness, cunning, ascent, loss, remembrance, and redemption.
Aladdin is a streetwise youth, fatherless, poor, and spirited. He is chosen by a North African sorcerer – a magician from the Maghreb – posing as a long-lost uncle. Under the guise of kinship, he leads Aladdin to a cave in the desert, offering dreams of wealth and trade. Before entering, Aladdin is given a ring – a talisman – and instructed not to touch anything except a specific lamp.
In the cave, amidst unimaginable treasure, Aladdin cannot resist. He pockets gems and plates, clutches the lamp, and begins his ascent. The magician, sensing travellers nearby, grows impatient. When Aladdin refuses to hand up the lamp before exiting, the magician seals him inside.
Alone in the dark, Aladdin twiddles the ring. A djinn appears, offering aid. Aladdin is returned home, where his mother is astonished. The ring djinn serves him modestly. The lamp lies forgotten.
Later, in polishing it, a second, greater djinn erupts. This one, tied to the lamp, can offer anything. A palace, banquets, riches – all manifest. Aladdin flourishes. He becomes a merchant of repute. With wealth comes renown. One day, he sees the Sultan’s daughter, Badroulbadour – “the full moon of beauty” – and falls in love.
To win her, he stages a grand procession: a camel caravan of gold, gifts, and wonders. It captures the Sultan’s gaze. Three times this display is repeated, each time grander than the last. The Sultan relents. Aladdin and Badroulbadour are married. A magnificent palace is created by the djinn.
Yet over time, Aladdin forgets. He abandons prayer, his noble heart dulled by ease. The lamp, like his spirit, tarnishes.
The magician returns. Learning of Aladdin’s rise, he devises a trick: “New lamps for old!” Badroulbadour, unaware, exchanges the magic lamp. The magician claims the genie and commands the palace – and all within – be spirited to the ends of the earth.
Aladdin returns to find nothing. All is gone. His search is long. Leaner, wiser, with instincts sharpened, he tracks the magician and his stolen life.
In the final confrontation, the magician transforms into a serpent – the shadow self, the coiled unconscious. Aladdin captures it in a narrow vessel, plugging it shut. With the genie’s help, he banishes it to a distant land.
Reunited with his beloved, Aladdin is restored. But more than wealth, he regains himself. He remembers God. He gives generously. He prays. He becomes truly noble.
The Five Hearts and the Caduceus
The symbol of the caduceus – twin serpents entwined around a central axis – mirrors the path of the kundalini, the awakened spinal energy rising toward the crown. It is also mirrored in our ventricles, our midline, and in the unfolding of our five hearts:
- The Physical Heart – the anatomical pump, centre of circulation
- The Emotional Heart – seat of our affective resonance and feelings
- The Moral Heart – the discerning compass of right and wrong
- The Spiritual Heart – that which seeks, yearns, and knows the Divine
- The Hidden Heart (Sirr) – the secret, most intimate point of connection to the One
Polishing the lamp is the act of remembrance – of dhikr, zikr – bringing ourselves back to clarity. Each time we return to stillness, to prayer, to breath, we remove a layer of forgetfulness. The Djinn that emerge are not chaotic spirits but powers latent in our design, waiting to be met, recognised, and guided.
Aladdin’s story is a parable of the human being: born into lack, gifted a latent inheritance, seduced by illusion, exiled by forgetfulness, and redeemed by love, effort, and spiritual insight. It is the journey of nafs through its many stations: from the commanding self to the peaceful self, each step catalysed by challenge and grace.
“Your sickness is from you, but you do not perceive it, and your remedy is within you, but you do not sense it. You presume you are a small entity, but within you is enfolded the entire Universe.”
— Ali ibn Abi Talib
Let us remember: our task is not only to read the story but to become it.
To polish the lamp. To name the djinn. To ask wisely.