John Lennon was done. Honestly, by 1970, the man who had helped define a generation’s dreams was exhausted by the weight of being a "Beatle." The world wanted a savior, a guru, or at the very least, another Abbey Road. What they got instead was a minimalist, bone-shaking piano ballad called "God" that featured the most controversial line of his solo career: I just believe in me.
It wasn't just a lyric. It was a funeral for the 1960s.
When Lennon sat down at the piano in Abbey Road Studios—with Ringo Starr on drums and Billy Preston on keys—he wasn't trying to write a radio hit. He was undergoing a psychological demolition. To understand why he claimed he only believed in himself and Yoko, you have to look at the wreckage he was walking away from.
The Concept of Pain
The song famously opens with the line, "God is a concept by which we measure our pain." It’s a heavy start. Lennon didn't just pull that out of thin air; it was the direct result of "Primal Scream" therapy with Dr. Arthur Janov.
Janov’s whole deal was that adult neurosis comes from repressed childhood trauma—what he called "Primal Pain." John, who had been abandoned by his father and lost his mother twice (once to her disappearance and once to her death), was the perfect candidate for this. He spent months in 1970 literally screaming, crying, and regressing to a child-like state to "feel" the pain he’d buried under years of global fame and drug use.
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Basically, John realized that people use "God" or religion as a container for their suffering. The bigger the pain, the bigger the God you need to hold it. By the time he wrote "God," he was tired of the containers. He wanted the reality.
The Litany of Non-Belief
Then comes the "list." You know the one. It’s a rhythmic, almost hypnotic chanting of everything he’s throwing in the bin. He doesn't just go after the big religious heavyweights; he goes after the icons of his own era.
- Magic and Tarot: The mystical fluff of the hippie movement.
- Jesus and Buddha: The traditional religious anchors.
- Elvis and Zimmerman: (That’s Bob Dylan, by the way). He was stripping away the musical gods he once worshipped.
- The Beatles: This was the one that hurt the fans.
Lennon later told Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner that he didn't plan the list. It just spilled out of his mouth. He said it was like a Christmas card list where he just kept adding names until he realized he had to stop. The inclusion of "Beatles" at the very end of the list was the final nail in the coffin. To John, the band had become a "myth," and he was done living inside a story that wasn't his anymore.
Why "I Just Believe in Me" Matters
When the music drops away and John sings, "I just believe in me / Yoko and me / And that’s reality," it sounds incredibly selfish to some people. Critics called it solipsism or even a sign of a mental breakdown. But if you look at it through the lens of a man who had spent ten years being told he was a "Mighty Avatar of the Counterculture," it’s actually a desperate plea for humanity.
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He was saying that he was no longer the "Dreamweaver" or the "Walrus." He was just John.
By centering his belief on himself and Yoko, he was grounding his existence in something he could actually touch. It was a rejection of the abstract in favor of the immediate. He was choosing a person over a movement. Honestly, it was the most punk rock thing he ever did—telling a billion people that their idol didn't exist anymore.
The Dream is Over
The song ends with the chilling refrain: "The dream is over."
Most people took this to mean The Beatles were over, which they were. But John was talking about something much bigger. He was talking about the "generation thing." The idea that the 1960s were going to fundamentally change the world through peace, love, and flower power had curdled. People were still getting high, people were still dying in Vietnam, and the "leaders" of the revolution were mostly just people.
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Lennon was forcing his audience to grow up. He was saying, "I can't do it for you anymore." You’ve got to carry on.
Actionable Insights from Lennon’s Shift
If we strip away the 1970s rock star drama, there are actually a few things we can take from this moment of "I just believe in me":
- Audit Your Idols: Lennon realized his belief in others (Gurus, Dylan, etc.) was a way to avoid looking at himself. Who are you outsource-ing your identity to?
- Acknowledge the "Concept": We often use big ideas—career success, political movements, or even "the grind"—to measure or mask our internal pain. Recognizing them as "concepts" helps you see the reality underneath.
- Find Your "Yoko": This doesn't have to be a spouse. It’s about finding the one or two "realities" in your life—the people or things that actually exist in your immediate space—and prioritizing them over the noise of the world.
- Accept the End of Dreams: Sometimes, a version of your life has to die for you to actually live. Letting the "dream" end is the only way to start something real.
John Lennon didn't stay in that dark, minimalist place forever—he eventually moved on to the idealism of "Imagine"—but he had to go through "God" to get there. He had to be "just John" before he could be anything else.
To apply this yourself, start by identifying one "myth" you’ve been living in—whether it's a job title that no longer fits or a social expectation that drains you—and explicitly state that you no longer "believe" in it. Once you clear that space, you can finally start believing in what is actually in front of you.