This post is about existentialism, not as a philosophical concept but as a way of life. If one were to say, ‘‘What is your religion?’’ I would respond that I am Buddhist. But underlying that sense of devout belief in Buddhist philosophy is a greater truth: I am an existentialist.
My first encounter with existentialism happened my freshman year of college when I took a course on Friedrich Nietzsche. Our professor introduced this strange, morose, enigmatic man with the following passage:
Perhaps one of the most often misrepresented quotes is this Nietzschean platitude, ‘‘God is dead.’’ He is talking about the rise of secularism in Europe. Please note the important phrase and we have killed him, which makes belief into an active choice. Maybe not a revolutionary idea for a seasoned philosopher, but it was earth-shattering for an 18-year-old kid losing her faith in God. I was struck dumb with how accurately it described my sense of loss and confusion. Sometimes I feel like I understand Nietzsche all too well–his rambling, melodramatic grief-stricken rants and the very real emotional strength at the heart of it all could have been torn from the pages of my diaries.
This idea – that everything had been wiped away, that the horizon had vanished, that I was straying, as through an infinite nothing – this idea completely redefined my life. The arbitrary nature of life experience, the inevitability of suffering – none of it makes any damn sense. Trying to construct a logical explanation for life has only made me insane. Trying to posit some Great Ultimate Truth has only led to more suffering, because I don’t believe a whit of it.
Destruction from the existentialist viewpoint is just as valuable and perhaps even more important than creation. So I will take everything I know to be true and tear it all down. I will destroy everything until there is nothing but black, empty space.
And then I will choose what I would like to fill that space.
Nietzsche, you see, was not a nihillist. He was a proponent of what he called the Dionysian Will to Power, which was basically doing whatever made you feel high on life, and creating values that made you feel strong. If you read Ecce Homo you will find that his Dionysian urges led him to do such dramatic and empowering things as take brisk walks and listen to classical music.
No offense, Herr Nietzsche, but I’m a little more visionary. For whatever reason, my overall view of the world up until that point was that it was terrifying, filled with evil people and that my continuous psychological suffering was pretty much an inherent part of my inferior being. (Nietzsche and I aren’t so different in this regard, though he managed to delude himself into believing it was other people who were batshit insane, not him.) Anyways, can you imagine how awesome it was to be able to just tear that negative shit down?
What I built up for myself, over the years, was a cautious but solid foundation based on the Buddhist principles of equanimity and impermanence. I believe that absolutely nothing on this planet matters but to love, and I say this in the infinitive because it is the verb I’m discussing here, not the noun. I believe that our experiences are transient, are individual existence illusory, and that we are but one part of this giant breathing, eternal organism that is the universe. You might call these beliefs ‘‘faith.’’ They are tenets of a religion. Maybe I am a religious person.
But this is the most important part-- I do not have any qualms about discarding this faith, this true-felt belief, at a moments notice if it ceases to serve my best interests. This is one of the reasons I typically have such a difficult time debating people on the interweb–I don’t even really believe in what I really believe in. Reality and life’s meaning are such incredibly relative things to me that I cannot imagine being certain about very much of anything. There are reliable frameworks – science, for example, and rationality. These things make me feel as if I have some kind of foothold in the world, and give me a sense of control and clarity that few things can. I’m not suggesting that crackpot ideas like Creationism or Scientology somehow have merit… my world ain’t *that * relative. But books like Marc Hauser’s Moral Minds, which are well-researched, add credence to my perspective that morality is both biological, environmental, and mostly arbitrary.
The plus side of all that, is of course, the incredible sense of moral freedom. One may see the wisdom in ‘‘The Middle Path’’ and very happily follow it and then discard it at a moment’s notice when one is presented with a giant Ice Cream Sundae and an extra large spoon. It’s the ultimate in guilt-free living. Nietzsche was not being general when he said, ‘‘One must have chaos in oneself in order to give birth to a dancing star.’’ He was talking about the emotional strength it takes to hold two diametrically opposing viewpoints at once, to believe that The Middle Path is honorable but also that sometimes you just gotta eat the damn sundae. Or to understand that someone who hurt you was both a brutal person and an innocent victim. Or to believe that Buddhism is true but it is not The Truth.
My intention is to raise a discussion on a few points. And please do not feel required to limit the discussion to Nietzsche; he is only the author I’ve read the most of. I have found very valuable insights in Kafka, Sartre, Camus, Dostoevsky and the sort of obscure Young Torless. (on that note–anybody here know of any CHEERY existentialists? Most of this stuff makes me want to shoot myself in the face.)
To the discussion points:
Is it possible to actually live a truly existentialist (or, to up the ante, nihilist) lifestyle? While I think I’ve covered some of the basic merits, there are obvious disadvantages that must be addressed. When I was a teenager and I had a moral dilemma I looked up the answer in an ancient textbook and fell asleep certain that God loved and me and would take care of me. Now I lie awake afraid, alone, confused. Is it even worth it, or am I just as trapped in my lack of direction as I once was in the black and white world of Christianity?
And we have not yet even mentioned the other part of existentialism – personal responsibility. What does responsibility mean in this context? That we are responsible for our own actions, our own happiness? Is there any way in which this notion might backfire on us? Furthermore, can existentialism be compared to religion? I think of it as my belief system–a belief system in which I believe there are no true belief systems, but a belief system nonetheless.
II don’t claim to be an expert on this movement, and I apologize for anything wonky about this OP. I am new to Great Debates and would like to participate more, but I’m still learning the rules.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Olives,
Christy
