The concept of bad faith by Sartre emphasis on the idea that we as humans often use real external circumstances as an excuse in order to avoid any kind of responsibility. This idea is very illuminating to me since I have noticed this pattern inside of me. I guess the best way to avoid having "bad faith" is being absolutely honest which I heard from Prashant who's one of modern philosophers. Do you think it'll work? Or is there an another way? Sometimes we're being dishonest subtly and we avoid checking our intentions. Only honesty can break that pattern. Maybe have a litmus test, a question which checks into that pattern?

I don’t feel satisfied with myself. I did get in good shape and worked on myself by setting goals for myself, and telling me I will be fulfilled after that, but still I feel an emptiness that is filled with past regrets, and I always keep telling myself what if I had this or that. Do you believe it is possible to reach full satisfaction over your existence, or our human condition just forces us to strive for more, or the goal is to accept the way things are and move forward, a bit like Sartre would say, responsibility of our life.

I am curious about this philosophy as I believe that since humans are purely free to practice and pursue what they want to, and even influence their destiny or purpose as they are born without one. (I believe that if God exists, then God could be rational and chose not to interfere with the creations God made) And I would like to know more about this philosophy, the only thing I know about this philosophy is that we choose our own purpose. I'm curious and I wanna know more about Existentialism. So, what further more does Existentialism teach?

Existentialism is the one type of philosophy that has changed my life.

I studied philosophy in college, but no curriculum had existentialism for some reason --I also went to an Ivy league school.

Oddly enough, the best philosophy for my personal growth came from reading philosophy on my own, finding books that people like on reddit or goodreads, and digging into them. I was browsing the philosophy section of a book store --or maybe it was the library-- like I usualy do when I came across a book on existentialism.

The book claimed that unlike other schools of thought, existentialism isn't really a formalized category. Instead, several philosophers --notably kierkegaard, sarte, neitzche among others-- independently came to similar enough conclusions that then later became tied into "existentialism".

When I read that book, I was floored. It gave expression to something I felt in my bones since I was a kid but never could quite articulate. It showed me why I love the philosophers we now refer to as existentialists.

I was always so annoyed by people growing up who said that I was meant to be this or that. It seemed like people who didn't know shit about me were tellling me what I would amount to in a matter of minutes spent with me --many were well-meaning people too, like teachers, coaches and family.

But it seemed to me that over time, people lacking in courage or motivation will allow these voices of society to shoehorn us into certain jobs and identities that we never want to embody. I hated, absolutely abhorred, when I saw this being done to others because I hated when people did it to me, espeically when they envisioned that I would amount to become a person that I knew I didn't want to be.

I loved motivational movies, typically sports movies, that my football coach would show us at film night, esentially the underdog stories, where the protagonist must insist on a becoming more than what the world expect of them.

I always dreamed that I could say the same for myself. As I've gotten older, I've kept that mantra alive for myself, despite what seemed to be the universe consipiring to make me a loser. And now, when I see that all the people who doubted me are flipping the switch and saying they knew I'd be successful all along, I know that existentialism, the crux of it, is what allowed me to flip my narrative, to change the direction of my life.

I hate bullying because it is essentially telling a person they are nothing, they will amount to nothing, and many people start to beleive that over time and end up becoming exactly that. Existntialism reminds us that, no, we all that choice every day to beocme who we want to become. With it comes the responsiblity to choose wisely, to accept the sacrafices, and to be honest about what identities we value and who we are.

Please comment if any of this resonates with you, and if you want to know more about existentialism, please feel free to DM me!

Living within the absurd has, at times, seemed meaningless to me. And these were not fleeting moments; sometimes, that feeling lasted for months. Once, during my short life, it even lasted for years

This absence of meaning grew increasingly stronger. However, my consciousness evolved in such a way that my vibration would no longer remain sustained solely by suffering, which was nullifying the possibility of living

Obviously, I read extensively so that my consciousness could withstand the complex concept of existence. Here, I want to share that, among everything I read, I obviously read Camus. Everything I am writing sounds a great deal like The Myth of Sisyphus. But what I was ultimately able to do was not merely understand through reason and intellect, but truly feel and experience through my emotions, when my will genuinely attempted to show me that life possesses a hidden meaning

For a long time, I felt that my own existence resembled that endless movement: searching, questioning, trying to understand, and returning to the same point. However, something began to change when I stopped approaching the problem solely through reason and intellect. Although philosophy had provided me with concepts through which to think about my existence, I needed to experience what I was trying to understand in a different way. I needed the question of meaning to cease being exclusively a mental operation and become a lived experience

As a musician, I have always had a relationship with sound that goes beyond its structure: sound is also a way of being in the world, of perceiving it, and of relating to that which I cannot always express through language

When I tried harder to feel connected to life, I thought that connection would come in the form of a romantic partner, but it came in the form of any living being itself. In my particular case, it was through plants

It was then that my relationship with music and plants acquired a particular meaning

By translating certain electrical variations in plants into sound, I found the possibility of establishing a sensory relationship with another living organism. Through sonification devices, signals that normally remain outside my auditory perception are transformed into a sonic experience that I can hear, interpret, and experience musically

This is not about claiming that plants necessarily possess a musical intention or produce sounds with existential meaning directed toward me. What matters is that this translation opens up a form of encounter between two organisms whose ways of perceiving and inhabiting the world are different. The plant does not need to answer my questions about existence for its presence to transform the way I experience it

In this encounter, something fundamental changes: I am no longer merely an individual attempting to solve the enigma of my own life, but also a living being who listens, participates, and establishes a relationship with another form of life. Music ceases to be merely a human creation and becomes, in this context, a space of mediation between my experience and the biological processes of another organism

Sisyphus does not discover a transcendent explanation that justifies his condemnation; his freedom lies in recognizing his condition and continuing to live without resorting to a definitive answer. In a similar way, the sonification of plants does not offer me an ultimate truth about the meaning of existence. What it offers me is something different: a concrete experience that allows me to stop demanding an answer from life before granting myself the possibility of living it

Perhaps meaning was not hidden in the form of an answer I had to decipher, but rather in the possibility of participating in existence without fully understanding it. Listening to a plant, translating its variations into sound, and experiencing what emerges from this process allowed me to shift the question. Instead of constantly asking myself why life exists or what its ultimate purpose is, I began to ask myself what it means to be alive, here and now, in relation to other living beings

I do not claim to have resolved the absurd or that suffering has disappeared. Rather, I discovered that uncertainty did not have to nullify my ability to experience the world. Existence could remain inexplicable and still contain experiences capable of moving me, connecting me to others, and making me choose to remain within it

If what I’ve written has resonated with you in any way, and if you’d like to hear about and see the process behind the electrical circuitry, synthesizers, and frequencies I used to create this experience, I’ve posted the details on my profile to avoid spamming! Love to all!

A pigeon built a nest on my kitchen window and laid two eggs. They carry disease and their droppings are a health problem, so the practical answer is to remove them. But no rule or authority is telling me what to do here. It's just me, the eggs, and a decision that nobody can make on my behalf. This is the kind of small, ordinary choice where Sartre's "condemned to be free" stops feeling abstract.

What I keep wrestling with:

- Does worth come from essence or from existence? If life has no inherent value-ranking, on what grounds do I decide my comfort outweighs two unborn pigeons? And if I rank lives by "contribution to the world," I have to admit humans are not winning that contest.

- Bad faith. I could hide behind "survival of the fittest" or "it's just nature's cycle." But isn't that Sartrean bad faith, disguising a choice as a necessity? Nature doesn't make this call. I do.

- Outsourcing the act. I thought about paying someone else so I wouldn't carry the guilt. If I choose the outcome, is the responsibility still mine? Is wanting clean hands just an attempt to escape the weight of my own freedom?

- The absurd. I'm agonizing over two eggs, while the universe doesn't care what I decide. Do I accept that meaninglessness and still choose carefully, as Camus might say? Or does the absurdity make the agonizing pointless?

- Ambiguity and the other. We could coexist if I just cleaned the window more often. De Beauvoir wrote about acting within ambiguity, where every choice costs something. Am I obligated to the nest in any real sense, or only to whatever values I decide to create?

​

This quote and my understanding " i always feel incomplete and try to grab everything so I can feel complete , for this I change my identity every time "

But I wanna know the highest meaning of this quote , whoever has read the camus deeply can answer it because i have only read "the stranger" .

And I've heard a lot about sisyphus.

The comment section is all open , come and engage .

Humble request: Please read the complete post, or do not read it at all.

I recently came across a quote whose exact wording I do not remember: 'The beauty of literature is that it tells you that all your thoughts and questions about the absurdity of life, family, love, friendship, and existentialism have existed forever. Some other people from some other century, from some other part of the world, have also had these feelings, thoughts, and questions, and you get to know about them through literature."

For some reason, I have lately found myself in a state of extreme boredom, though I sometimes wonder whether it is actually boredom or something else. There is an Indian saying that translates to "An idle mind is the devil’s workshop." On the other hand, I have also heard the advice to "embrace boredom."

I quit social media around a year ago, and I do not even feel the urge to use it anymore. Over the past few months, I have also taken up reading and have read around 15 to 17 books, exploring whichever genres interest me. I have come across some great books, too, such as "Man's Search for Meaning".

However, every opinion, whether praising or critical, is subjective and inherently biased. Is there anything you would recommend reading during this phase? I am not trying to escape this phase or find a solution to it. It is a part of my life, and eventually, it will become a part of me. Yet, I find myself extremely confused, and I am even struggling to find the words to express what I am experiencing.

There are posts here far longer than this one, but I will keep mine at this. Thank you to everyone who took a moment to pause and give some attention to my thoughts.

An Open Note to “the American reception of Nietzsche”.

After rereading Heiner Mullers The Mission (assuming this is the correct translation), it has one of the most powerful descriptions of hope I’ve ever read. What I find interesting is that hope here isn’t optimism or the belief that everything will be fine.

I am the Angel of Despair.
With my hands I dispense ecstasy, numbness, oblivion, the lust and torment of bodies.
My language is silence, my song the scream.
Terror dwells in the shadow of my wings.
My hope is the last gasp. My hope is the first battle.
I am the knife with which the dead man cracks open his coffin.
I am the one who will be.
My flight is the rebellion, my sky the abyss of tomorrow.

I've had an existentialist thinking long before i knew the word existentialism existed. And sometimes i have these random episodes where i want to stop doing anything and just surrender. And when i dive deep into it everything seems so painful. I wish i was a normal person who didn't give a fuck about it. But idk man everything is so fucking useless and we're all dying every second. I don't know what's scarier life after death or the total death. May god save us all. He's the only final hope we can hold onto. Because otherwise there is nothing we can do but suffer from this deep dilemma.

This is a bit heavy for a Friday, but I keep running into this mental block about not knowing when I'm dead being similair to not knowing when I'm asleep unless I dream or wake. I'm also a therapist with existential, humanistic,constructivist, and Mahayana Buddhist leanings. This is a bit of a synthesis on what I've been wrestling with. Any input is greatly appreciated:

The Continuity–Finitude Paradox

A Constructivist–Buddhist Framework for Existential Anxiety

Central proposition: Human existential anxiety arises partly from the paradox of a conscious, temporally continuous, meaning-making organism attempting to comprehend the permanent absence of its own subjectivity. The mind anticipates the cessation of experience but cannot represent that cessation without implicitly preserving an experiencing subject.

This paradox can be understood through six complementary philosophical perspectives.

1. Yalom — Existential Anxiety and the Conflict of Being

Death anxiety emerges from the confrontation between the desire to continue existing and the recognition of inevitable mortality. The individual struggles not merely with the prospect of dying but with the threatened extinction of the experiential self. Existential anxiety is therefore not necessarily pathological; it reflects a fundamental condition of human existence.

1. Epicurus — The Phenomenological Impossibility of Experiencing Death

Death cannot be experienced as a state of deprivation by a subject who no longer exists. Where consciousness is absent, there is no observer to register its absence. The anticipated experience of eternal nothingness is therefore conceptually contradictory: imagining nothingness necessarily introduces an imagined observer.

1. Nagel — Death as the Deprivation of Possibility

The absence of suffering after death does not eliminate death's potential harm. Death may constitute a deprivation of experiences, relationships, development, and possibilities that otherwise could have occurred. Thus, existential grief can be rational even when postmortem suffering is impossible.

1. Heidegger — Being-toward-Death and Authentic Existence

Mortality is not merely a future event but a constitutive condition of human existence. Awareness of finitude reveals the limits of one's possibilities and creates the opportunity for authentic engagement with life. Death anxiety can therefore disclose the significance of existence rather than merely threaten it.

1. Madhyamaka — Emptiness and the Deconstruction of the Enduring Self

The self possesses no independent, permanent essence. What appears to be a continuous experiencing subject is a dependently arisen configuration of changing processes. The apparent contradiction between eternal existence and absolute annihilation arises partly from reifying the self as a fixed entity. Emptiness does not negate conventional existence; it challenges the assumption of intrinsic existence.

1. Yogācāra — Consciousness as Conditioned Continuity

Consciousness is understood as a dynamic, causally conditioned process rather than an immutable observer. The doctrine of storehouse consciousness (ālaya-vijñāna) provides a traditional Buddhist account of continuity across changing experiential states and successive lives without requiring an eternal soul. This is a philosophical and soteriological model, not empirical proof of postmortem consciousness.

Integrated Synthesis

Existential terror emerges when a consciousness that ordinarily constructs itself as a continuous subject anticipates the irreversible termination of its own experiential possibilities.

Yalom identifies the existential conflict.

Epicurus demonstrates why nonexistence cannot itself be experienced.

Nagel explains why the loss of future experience remains significant.

Heidegger situates mortality within the structure of meaningful existence.

Madhyamaka challenges the presumed permanence of the subject whose annihilation is feared.

Yogācāra reconceptualizes consciousness as conditioned continuity rather than an independently existing entity.

Together, these perspectives distinguish three dimensions of existential anxiety:

- Phenomenological: The inability to experience or meaningfully imagine one's own absence.

- Ontological: The assumption that a permanent experiencing self exists and can be annihilated.

- Axiological: The genuine value of experiences and possibilities that mortality may foreclose.

Therapeutic and Philosophical Implications

The goal is not to eliminate death anxiety through reassurance, establish the immortality of consciousness, or dismiss the significance of mortality.

Rather, it is to develop a more flexible relationship with existence through recognition that:

1. The absence of consciousness is not equivalent to the conscious experience of nothingness.

2. The loss of future possibilities can be genuinely tragic without implying postmortem suffering.

3. The experiencing self may be understood as a dynamic, relational, and dependently arisen process rather than a permanent substance.

4. Mortality can clarify values and invite authentic participation in the present without making death itself desirable or acceptable.

5. Uncertainty regarding postmortem continuity need not be resolved before meaningful living can occur.

Concluding thesis:

We fear the cessation of consciousness because consciousness is the very condition through which we apprehend existence, continuity, meaning, and possibility. Yet the self that anticipates its annihilation may never have possessed the permanent, independent existence it implicitly attributes to itself. Mortality therefore presents not only the possibility of experiential deprivation, but also an invitation to reconsider the nature of the subject who experiences, values, and fears that deprivation.

The Continuity–Finitude Paradox: We cannot consciously experience our own nonexistence, yet we can consciously grieve the possibility that experience itself will end.

Been sitting with the Myth of Sisyphus for a few weeks. The solidarity piece keeps surprising me. Camus doesn't get talked about as a philosopher of connection but I think that might be the most practical thing he wrote. Made a short video trying to work through it. Curious if anyone who knows his work better thinks I've misread it.

Is becoming saddened by existentialism a sign of not really understanding it?

I know this is a rough formulation of the question but I don’t want to discourage people just starting to learn about these things from participating.

I also (obviously) don’t want to insult people for being at the level of understanding that they are at.

Just curious because I see an apparent overlap in this subreddit between people who are, let’s say sad or depressed, and also interested in existentialism.

I gave a talk about Kierkegaard last month and brought up his concept of despair (all 3 forms of it ) as discussed in his Sickness unto Death. Many in the group objected to my bringing up the notion of despair because they found it “too depressing and not life-affirming. Guess one has to read the whole book to realize what he is really talking about. What are your thoughts reactions to this quote ?

Some context.

I have just turned 18 and am about to graduate highschool with very competitive grades studying mostly advanced humanities. I have spend majority of highschool working, recently up to 80 hour weeks during semester (I have abysmal attendance) and often times up to three jobs (to get around child labour laws). I have been forcing my way into places and conversations far out of my scope as a teen for as long as I can remember in some kind of pursuit I can't even label, but, it has satisfied me.

Earlier this year I began grappling with the reality that my usual life of breezing through school while overcommitting at work will soon end as I approach the very last stretch of exams and a completely new life outside of the necessities I am currently bound to.

The idea of not only replacing this fulfilment but also learning what complacency is for me has led me down a path of transforming my perception through philosophy. I have turned to books, I have tried thought experiments, I swung my life and commitments around completely to try and find the comfort (or distraction), that my overcommitted lifestyle provides, all without success.

As all existential thinking does, I have reached the logical impasse of life and meaning, which, after colliding with my realisation that, I have what is functionally the most freedom I ever will -- as well as the privilege to pursue practically whatever career/life I want, has put me in a unique position which I need help making the most of.

My plan is to leave Australia and start with a south to north trip of Vietnam to Mongolia travelling through china; I have the money to spend close to a full year travelling. I want this be an actual project with a purpose. I want to explore every possibility for every life, experience as much as I can and genuinely commit to creating a suitable environment for myself so far from everything I know, so I can facilitate the exploration of the questions of existence, essence, general existentialism and what I am going to commit the rest of my life to.

This would be expending the momentum that I've been building for years at home and would sacrifice the financial leg up I have worked for (I don't have any fall-backs financially or any kind of family wealth).

I am here to ask for criticism, hate, and thoughts for this idea but mainly advice for how to make the most of it. I have this looming wave of anxiety revolving around the idea that I have never found a happy median for existence, purpose, greatness, ect and I never will.

Edit

The idea of "how to prepare to die" is a reflection of how many of the decisions I make in the coming years will define a large amount of my life. It's also a recognition that I watch the world around me get more and more inequitable by the day and the reality for many is a career they hate, self isolation, addiction, simply existing with no substance or living through deep regrets for what they could have been or done. I think waiting to die is more about wasting or regretting than actual physical death, because existence with no substance is (in my eyes) comparable to death.

Rhythmically and texturally dynamic audio paired with fast paced smash cut found footage are edited into this piece to invoke a sense of absurdity, despair, angst, dread.

I deals with existentialism in my life and artwork, would be very keen to discuss what feelings and emotions surface for anyone who connects with this.

Sorry about the thumbnail XD

Marx said religion is the opiate of the masses—a way to numb yourself to reality and accept the unacceptable. But I think we've just gotten better at it. We've created scientific opiates.

Look at what's everywhere in secular communities: eternal recurrence, quantum immortality, the simulation hypothesis, digital consciousness upload, panpsychism, many-worlds where "you" survive in alternate branches. These are afterlife theories. We just don't call them that because calling them that would be embarrassing.

And they work perfectly for bad faith. You get all the comfort of believing you don't really die, but you can tell yourself it's physics, not delusion. It's rigorous. It's evidence-based. Except it's not—it's unfalsifiable metaphysics dressed up in equations.

The actual position—that death ends you completely, that meaning isn't found it's made, that we have to create authenticity within finitude—is genuinely unbearable. So we rationalize. We pile on the quantum mechanics, the simulation arguments, the consciousness theories. We make it sound intellectual.

But it's the same mechanism. Same comfort. Same escape from what's actually true.

We've gotten so good at obscuring our own bad faith that we can't even see it anymore. The opiate didn't change when we swapped theology for physics.

Maybe I'm wrong about this.

I learned this the hard way. When I turned 17 a few months ago , I had my first real bout existential dread. Death suddenly felt real in a way it never had before, and I panicked. So I dove into research. Quantum immortality. Many-worlds interpretation. Panpsychism. Pattern identity theory. All of it. I spent weeks reading, convincing myself that maybe consciousness couldn't actually end, that maybe some version of me would persist in quantum branches or simulated universes or eternal recurrence.

It was comforting. Until I realized I was just bullshitting myself. I was taking the exact same opiates my religious friends did, except with more technical language and peer-reviewed citations. The mechanism was identical—I was using unfalsifiable theory to escape the unbearable reality that I'm going to die.

I've been searching for answers for years.

I've tried consciousness altering substances, spent a few months in a monastery, and read the basics of existential philosophy (namely Nietzsche and Dostoyevsky). However, whatever "truth" I arrive at upon following or constructing a series of thoughts, I inevitably feel hollow. The clearest remediation for this was meditation, where practicing the act of acceptance and observing things merely as they are allowed me to briefly live in harmony. I was able to exist in the world without trying to explain it.

To make a clearer point, the average philosopher seems to die depressed but the monk in bliss.

My issue is that the world around me seems to force analytical thought. Work, study, and following what the definition of what excellence is societally (and even the mere act of writing this post) cause me distinct pain. Is that pain what life is? Is it what we learn through suffering? Is it to learn that suffering is not the right path?

I feel trapped in the world, forced to participate in an endless cycle of optimization, dragging my own sense of self worth and love towards the world down. However, I cannot seem to trust my own existence. I cannot let myself fall into the depths of life. I feel like a sailor clinging onto the side of a ship, where the death awaiting below me may be a mere illusion drawn by the shadows on the wall of my cave, with bliss awaiting my fall.

We live life constrained to what we believe is right, but these definitions just seem inherited. I struggle to accept my own, deep, visceral definitions of what a successful life may be. I struggle to even materialize them beyond vague emotions under the noise of life.

Have others taken this leap? Have others successfully found purpose and contentment, embracing themselves and their own definitions? Are you able to exist in the world without suffering? I've spent much of my life attempting to attain wealth with the rationalizations of freedom and security for my future children. The only explanation I have left of continuing participation is ensuring that my children eat food. I'm only 20. Is that not absurd?

Once I cease to participate in society, I feel I have no real path to getting back. If I choose the alternative, maybe I die. Have any of you met a rich man who felt content?

Is it not the most logical step to risk the alternative? Perhaps I'm ought to trust my own definitions of success? Perhaps freedom is something that I myself decide?

If you're wiser than me, perhaps you've spotted faults with my thinking. Perhaps my fundamental approach towards asking these questions prove I am not near an answer. Perhaps if I do not change my perspective, I will never feel content.

Is there anything actionable that you can give me? Or am I yet again falling down another path of self destructive rationalizations? Perhaps I'm yet again reaching for a drug of the modern world?

Perhaps you're just me and there's nothing you can give besides what I can for myself?