Facing Meaninglessness

To what degree must I subject myself to the immutable suffering of life before I am able to transcend it? The perils of speaking the truth in the face of the collective malevolence that holds humanity hostage is, in fact, where courage is most powerful. Perhaps I must echo Jung’s sentiments, calling myself out for only letting my light shine in the daylight. But it is unspeakably difficult to step forward into the unknown when all it appears to hold is threat to all the meaning I’ve given my life. 

It is unspeakably difficult to continue forward into such a Godforsaken realm of existence where it feels like the moral undertaking I was once so eager to embark upon is now demanding the last drop of love and courage I possess. I fear that surrendering that last drop will send me spiraling down into an inescapable hole of nihilism. And I am not delusional, for that is a real thing.

What then shall I do? Well, for starters, I do not shy away from that bottomless pit of nihilism. Rather, I seek the truth within myself, which could only emerge once I come face to face with the darkest of all possibilities. This is the descent into hell. It is here where my heroic redemption takes place, not just for myself but for those with whom I encounter along the way. I see in them the potential to fall down that same bottomless pit of nihilism, and this frightens me, too. The thought of the sparkle of life in their eyes fading to blackness alarms me, for I want nothing less than to see that. 

So I go to battle for them, even—perhaps especially—if it means I must also be their enemy, for to be one’s friend, I must also be able to be one’s enemy. This is to tell the truth, and to do so with love. Otherwise, the truth without love is a weapon. But the truth hurts, and the darkness cannot comprehend the light. To blind my friends with truth, even though I do so with love, requires courage. Who then are my friends? They are anyone who will listen.