Existential Distress No. 1," 5" x 3.75" acrylic and oil (mixed media) on paper.
“The neurotic opts out of life because he is having trouble maintaining his illusions about it, which proves nothing less than that life is possible only with illusions.”
― Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death
Existential Distress No. 2," 5" x 3.75" acrylic, charcoal, and oil (mixed media) on paper.
“The Grids in Life and Death,” 5” x 3.75” acrylic on paper.
“Fiery Lake and Stones,” 3.75” x 5” acrylic on paper.
I’ve written a lot about existential terror. I often forget that there are a lot of people who don’t know what that means. I want to reiterate what this is and why it matters, specifically as it relates to making art.
Another way to express this idea is through terror management theory (TMT). TMT deals with how humans cope with the awareness of their own deaths. That is the crux of the question. How do you cope with the reality of your impending death? If you answered, “I don’t think about it,” you would be in the majority of the population. This is the common answer or response.
“On what level of illusion does one live? This question poses an absolutely new question for the science of mental health, namely: What is the ‘‘best” illusion under which to live? Or, what is the most legitimate foolishness?”
Here’s why: We (humans) rely on cultural constructs to buffer our fear of death, which we all know is coming, and we never know when or how it will happen. These cultural constructs are as simple as having a spouse (significant other) or children, belonging to a religion or political group, making money, writing books, or even making art. These groups and activities give us a shield, a distraction, or, as Becker calls it, an illusion that allows us to bury (psychologically speaking) the terror of existing and knowing we are going to die. Remember, the fear of death isn’t a concern about the actual dying part; it’s central concern is being forgotten and regretting not living a meaningful life—impermanence and insignificance—that’s the dread or fear we feel.
“Without poets, without artists... everything would fall apart into chaos. There would be no more seasons, no more civilizations, no more thought, no more humanity, no more life even; and impotent darkness would reign forever. Poets and artists together determine the features of their age, and the future meekly conforms to their edit.”
Thanatophobia is related to death anxiety but reflects this fear in a different way. Thanatophobia is an intense fear of death or the dying process. For some people, death anxiety disrupts life in a very serious way. It can manifest as depression, anxiety, harmful behavior, etc.
What role does art play? For me, it’s significant in two ways. The first is that it provides meaning in my life. I feel that I have purpose when making art. I’m addressing issues that bother me (death anxiety, injustice, etc.) or interest me, and it provides significance for me. The second is that I know psychologically that my work will live on beyond my physical death. That is a form of symbolic immortality, and it plays a significant role, psychologically speaking, in enduring and buffering the knowledge of my mortality. Every human being needs to have meaning and significance in their life. They are powerful death anxiety buffers.
When you make art, you're buffering your death anxiety, whether you know it or not. And most don’t know it. We’ve evolved to disguise these activities so they seem meaningful, and we never recognize their real psychological purpose. This absolutely fascinates me and is the core of the work I’m doing.
“Existential Terror No. 10,” 3.75” x 5” acrylic on paper.
"El Toro," 5" x 3.75" acrylic, charcoal, newsprint (mixed media) on paper.
I recently got an email from someone in New Zealand that really caught my interest. They're in a Ph.D. program for creative writing and posed a very interesting question. I won't spill the whole email to keep things private, but here's the scoop: they wanted to know about artists influenced by death anxiety and terror management theory, seeing them as potential genres in art and literature. They gave a shoutout to my website and wished me luck in 2024. (Thanks for the email if you happen to see this post.)
I've been thinking a lot about this question. I've only come across one article about a painter diving into Becker's theories for their art. It's a fascinating question that could kick off a bit of a "movement" in the creative arts world if artists could accommodate and assimilate these theories. Most of the information on death anxiety and terror management theory is wrapped up in the world of science and academia. Most artists won't read these kinds of books and papers.
Imagine if artists from all walks of life hopped on board and started creating based on these ideas. It could add a whole new layer to humanity that other genres might miss. Sure, these ideas are a bit tricky to grasp and even tougher to apply to your own life. But once you get them, they're a game-changer.
How awesome would it be to encourage artists to dig into Becker's work and create stuff directly tied to death anxiety and terror management theory? Here's the kicker: a ton of art already revolves around these ideas; we just don't always see it that way. Death is something we all grapple with, and we're all kind of in denial that it's coming for us at some point. It's a universal theme that could make art even more relatable and powerful.
"Culturally Constructed Meat Puppets," 3.75" x 5" acrylic on paper.
“Yellow Bar,” 5” x 3.75” acrylic and charcoal, mixed media (newspaper, paper figures) on paper.
I thought I’d share these small (5” x 3.75”) warmup paintings that I can mount on greeting cards and send people some (small) original works. I think they’re really cool. I worked with the theme of “circles” and color theory on these (the group of four images). I’m sure that’s obvious. I’m quite pleased with them. Not masterpieces, but interesting nonetheless. I see improvement with every piece I paint, and I find joy and meaning in every one I do.
Lately, I’ve had people comment and question my painting journey. I want to be perfectly clear: I’m on an exploration, a journey of discovery. I know I’m not Picasso, and I’m not trying to be. I’m not interested in the “academic” approach to painting or drawing either. I have nothing against any of that, and I’m open to learning if it helps my journey, but I’m simply not interested in painting apples and peaches in Rembrandt lighting (his apples are amazing, just not what I want to pursue).
I will learn and grow by doing. I posted a while back about painting a piece every day; that’s what I’m doing (at least one). I’m not after commercial success or “likes” or recognition; I’m simply trying to express some of my ideas about the human condition through putting paint and marks on a surface. That’s all. Whether people like them or not, that’s what I’m going to do. And if I end up painting pieces that really speak to me and my project, I’ll put them in my book. If I don’t, I won’t.
I believe there’s a part of me that is rebelling against photography a little bit too. I love the craft I spent my entire adult life in, but for the past few years, it has felt very mechanical and distant to me. There’s a part of me that feels “bored” with it. I feel like I’ve seen everything a dozen times. I’m not interested in that at all. It was time to break out the paint. I’ve threatened for years that I would eventually paint, and here I am. Something inside of me knew that long before I started. A big part of my (later) life has been about growing, changing, and challenging myself. What was left for me to do in photography? Not much. I accomplished almost everything I wanted to do. So I’ve changed lanes a little bit anyway.
Please don’t misunderstand me. I will always have a darkroom, a camera, and the ability to make photographs. And I will. For now, however, I want to explore and learn to paint. I’m loving it! I think that will occupy the majority of my time for the foreseeable future (with a bit of photography in there too).
The one thing that I don’t want to do in my sixties is live life burdened with what others think or feel about what I do or don’t do and feel any pressure to do what others think I should. I want to love, live in peace, find joy in everything I pursue, and not have any of the world’s pressure influence me (money, recognition, awards, etc.). That time of my life is over, and I’m happier for it.
I’ve tried to adopt the motto, “Awe, humility, and gratitude in every day.” That’s what I want to pursue and have in my life.
I really appreciate the kindness of the people I’ve known over the years. I’m honored to have met so many wonderful human beings. I have wonderful memories of good times and great people. I’m forever grateful for that. So, whether you like what I’m doing now or not, it’s okay. We’re still good. You’ll never offend or hurt me if you don’t like or agree with what I do. We’re individual human beings and have different tastes and ideas about life and reality. I get it. I want to encourage you to find something that truly brings you joy. In Beckerian terms, “meaning and significance.” That’s all that really matters. You need no one’s approval or “likes” for what you find enjoyable and meaningful. Just do it.
“Existential Dread No. 8,” 8” x 10” acrylic and charcoal on paper.
“Existential Dread No. 8,” 8” x 10” acrylic and charcoal on paper.
“Existential Dread No. 8,” 8” x 10” acrylic and charcoal on paper.
“Existential Dread No. 8,” 8” x 10” acrylic and charcoal on paper.
“Two Fish With Lemon Yellow Eyes No. 3,” 7” x 11” Acrylic and Oil
I’m making a few paintings about fish (as you can see). I like the form and the symbol. As well as the variation you can get when painting these (as ideas for existential anxiety). Have you ever heard of ichthyophobia? The fear of fish—both dead and alive. The topic of fear interests me because it all relates to the fear of death.
“Two Fish No. 1,” 7” x 11” Oil and Acrylic
“Fish Bones No. 1,” 6” x 6” (15 x 15 cm) Oil
Is it something, about something, or both? I’ve been trying to get my arms around avoiding the literal. It’s a difficult habit to break. Coming from photography, where everything is literal (even if it’s abstract), painting offers you a lot of freedom. Sometimes, that freedom causes you to freeze—it creates a barrier to making work that is less literal.
I have so many ideas that I want to paint; I’m just trying to find my way in with a blend of styles—impressionism and post-impressionism. Those are the movements that are most attractive to me. I would add some abstract impressionism in there too. These paintings I’m making will always be centered on Becker’s theories and terror management theory, but in a very non-literal way. Sometimes the content will be non-literal, and sometimes the ideas will be less than literal. It’s more of a personal journey than any kind of commercial process.
I said in my last post that I’m reading Rick Rubin every morning—early in the morning—and he’s been driving me to new places and trying new things. It’s liberating. He said, “Look for what you notice but no one else sees.” (Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being) That resonates with me deeply. I would say that is the core of my work (In the Shadow of Sun Mountain). I’m not sure that no one else notices, but the idea is to get away from the obvious, the literal, and the commonplace. I get it, and I agree.
“In terms of priority, inspiration comes first. You come next. The audience comes last.”
As I find my way through this iteration of the project, I do find my biggest obstacle to be literalism. I’m working to break the chains of photography and literalism and find my way to most representational work, even abstract in some sense. It’s a fun journey, and I encourage you to remember that you’re the creator of your work; you’re the one that needs to be happy with it. Another Rubin quote from his book is, “In terms of priority, inspiration comes first. You come next. The audience comes last.“ (Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being).
“Existential Dread No. 5,” 6” x 6” (15 x 15cm) Oil
“Existential Dread No. 1,” December 2, 2023, 6” x 6” (15 x 15 cm), Oil and Watercolor
I’ve been considering the words implied and explicit as they relate to art. When I think about photography, the word explicit comes to mind. It’s literal; it’s “of something.” Yes, it can be abstract, but it’s still something that exists. When I think about painting, sculpture, music, writing, etc., I think of the word implied. These mediums are less mechanical, most of the time. They are fashioned from nothing; the content usually doesn’t exist in “real life.” It can be an interpretation of something, but it’s always different.
“Art as a work in progress: All art is a work in progress. It’s helpful to see the piece we’re working on as an experiment.”
My concerns and interests lie in impressionism, even abstract impressionism. To me, this form of art is the ultimate form of the word “implied.” There is so much freedom in making art that is less literal, more abstract, and less concrete. I can allow my mind to ponder the theories I’m interested in and create work that represents the ideas without being explicit. As I’ve grown older, I’m less interested in telling literal stories and more interested in exploring the emotions and feelings behind the ideas or concepts. I love photography and will continue to make photographs at some point, but for now, this is a much more powerful way for me to express my ideas.
I’ve been spending a lot of time reading and re-reading Rick Rubin’s book, “The Creative Act: A Way of Being.” He said, "Art as a work in progress: All art is a work in progress. It's helpful to see the piece we're working on as an experiment."
Photography has been a wonderful career for me. I made a living with it for many years and retired as a photographer. I’ve always loved it and appreciated it. As I’ve had time to think deeply about what I’m most interested in now, I find myself drawn to painting. For many years, I’ve threatened to start painting when photography doesn’t speak to me. I’ve dabbled in mixed media quite a lot over the years. In undergraduate school, I did a lot of experimental photography, even painting on images. But this is different for me now. I have specific ideas and themes I want to paint about. My Becker studies opened up so much for me, and I want to be free to express those ideas through post-impressionism, impressionism, and abstract impressionism. I’m no Pollock, no De Kooning, and surely no Van Gogh, but I know I have a voice in this medium.
My goal is to work through ideas and themes around death denial, death anxiety, terror management theory, gratitude, and humility. Those are the big-picture themes or ideas. I have several months now to paint because winter is here. Although I would be painting in the summer or in good weather too, it’s just a great winter activity. I’ll try to post occasionally about my progress. I’ve made 20–30 paintings so far and am still very much exploring techniques and ideas. Stay tuned!
“Existential Dread No. 1,” December 2, 2023, 6” x 6” (15 x 15 cm), Oil
“Existential Dread No. 2,” December 2, 2023, 6” x 6” (15 x 15 cm), Oil and Watercolor
“Crow and the Moon” monotype print, 9” x 12” (22,86 x 30,48cm) November 20, 2023.
I’ve been experimenting with monotype prints for a while and am really enjoying the process. Sometimes, I print and then paint them after the blocking ink is dry. I use both watercolor and acrylic paint. I’ll show an example of one of those “post color” monotype prints later.
I’m exploring the same themes and ideas with these. I like the figures I’ve created and will continue to make prints as the inspiration hits me.
“The Alien and Two Graves” monotype print, 9” x 12” (22,86 x 30,48cm) November 23, 2023.
“Leftovers: What’s Left Behind,” 10” x 10” (25,4 x 25,4 cm) RA-4 Reversal Direct Color Print, August 27, 2023.
This is the first stage in the process: making the photograph. I’ve started doing mixed media pieces on 18” x 18” (45,72 x 45,72cm) canvas. I’m using photography, painting, and sculpture. At some point, I’ll share one or two pieces. Right now, I’m just excited to work through my ideas for a while.
I begin with a photograph, like this one, and use it as a starting point on the canvas-colors, textures, ideas, etc. I’m working in acrylics and making different types of sculptures from various materials. I’m using modeling paste and gesso for the textures and mixing different materials into that, mostly materials from the land.
I find incredible joy in working like this. It’s so satisfying and allows me to expand ideas and work in an interdisciplinary fashion. Like the theories I’m basing this work on, which are interdisciplinary, I find the connection to be powerful and very supportive.
“Man is literally split in two: he has an awareness of his own splendid uniqueness in that he sticks out of nature with a towering majesty, and yet he goes back into the ground a few feet in order to blindly and dumbly rot and disappear forever. It is a terrifying dilemma to be in and to have to live with.
Man has a symbolic identity that brings him sharply out of nature. He is a symbolic self, a creature with a name, a life history. He is a creator with a mind that soars out to speculate about atoms and infinity, who can place himself imaginatively at a point in space and contemplate bemusedly his own planet. This immense expansion, this dexterity, this ethereality, this self-consciousness gives to man literally the status of a small god in nature, as the Renaissance thinkers knew.
The knowledge of death is reflective and conceptual, and animals are spared it. They live and they disappear with the same thoughtlessness: a few minutes of fear, a few seconds of anguish, and it is over. But to live a whole lifetime with the fate of death haunting one’s dreams and even the most sun-filled days—that’s something else.”
THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTIONS WE CAN ASK OURSELVES
What’s the most important question, or questions, that a human being can ask? Have you ever thought about that? I have. A lot. For me, and I believe for all humanity, the most important questions revolve around existence. Why am I here? What’s my purpose? Is there a meaning to life? If there is, what is it?
These are the questions that started me on my journey almost 40 years ago. For most of my life, I’ve used photography to explore these questions. Examining why some people are treated differently than others and pondering why the gulf between individuals exists. It was the beginning of my quest to understand what drives human behavior. There is the direct question of purpose, too. Religions were created to answer these questions, but they answer them based on faith, not empirical evidence. There’s evidence that the earliest homo sapiens invented and practiced some kind of religion. Humans have always depended on some kind of supernatural belief. Why is this? The answer is simple: to deal with the knowledge of death and quell the existential anxiety that arises from that knowledge. Death anxiety is a powerful driver in daily life, and most people never know that it is directing their lives. We do all kinds of things to distract ourselves from consciously thinking about our deaths. These distractions can be good or bad. Religions have been the main staple for staving off death anxiety for millennia. Things have changed in the last 300 years. The Enlightenment and the Industrial Revolution (technology) have given rise to people leaving religion and leaning on new constructs to quell their death anxiety. This is why Friedrich Nietzsche said, “God is dead.” He was referring to technology, money, fame, etc., freedom from religion, and personal growth. A form of terror management.
Human beings have an unconscious desire for immortality. We simply can’t face the fact of death or non-existence; it’s what we fear most, whether we know it or not, and most don’t. Ernest Becker wrote, “Man is literally split in two: he has an awareness of his own splendid uniqueness in that he sticks out of nature with a towering majesty, and yet he goes back into the ground a few feet in order blindly and dumbly to rot and disappear forever”. This quote is from Becker's 1973 book, The Denial of Death.
Pessimistic philosophers would tell you that life is a mistake. The overabundance of consciousness (the knowledge of mortality) is an evolutionary misstep. Peter Zapfee talks about the “suffering of brotherhood,” saying that the true knowledge of how much pain and suffering there is in the world is unbearable. The "brotherhood of suffering" is a concept in The Last Messiah by Peter Wessel Zapffe. In the parable, a paralyzed hunter recognizes that the animal's fear and hunger are similar to his own. The hunter then feels a great psalm about the brotherhood of suffering among everything alive.
Zapffe believed that the human condition is tragically overdeveloped and that the world is beyond humanity's need for meaning. He viewed the world as unable to provide any answers to fundamental existential questions.
While I’m not a pessimist, I can see the value of arguments like Zapffe’s. There are no answers to these big questions. There are only distractions to keep us from thinking about them. That’s what terror management theory addresses. How we distract ourselves from the reality of living—that there is no meaning or purpose in life. And that we will die and be forgotten.
The illusions or cultural constructs (cultural worldviews) we lean on to quell our death anxiety are everywhere: religion, politics, having children, getting married, sports, money, fame, degrees, awards, jobs, social status, drugs, alcohol, shopping (tranquilizing with the trivial)—anything to bolster our self-esteem and keep the existential anxiety repressed—and it works, and it works well. If you spend any time on social media, you can easily spot what people rely on to buffer their anxiety. I’ve seen people deeply identify with their vehicles, photography achievements, how long they’ve been married, their new clothes and “look,” the celebrity they met or the concert they attended, and so many other (too much information) things that are meaningless and trivial. What they don’t understand is that no one really cares.
Humans have evolved to suppress or repress this knowledge—to distract ourselves and deny our mortality. We had to, or we wouldn’t have survived. I read a book a while ago called "Denial: Self-Deception, False Beliefs, and the Origins of the Human Mind" by Ajit Varki and Danny Brower. The book presents a theory on the origins of the human species. It explains why denial is a key to being human. The authors argue that humans separated themselves from other creatures because they became self-aware of their own and others' mortality. They then developed a way to deny that mortality. The book offers a warning about the dangers of our ability to ignore reality. It asks why other intelligent animals have not evolved like humans. The authors' answer is that humans have crossed a major psychological evolutionary barrier by developing the ability to deny reality. The theory of mind (TOM) plays a big role in this evolutionary step. I highly recommend reading the book.
Where does that leave us? Well, for some of us who don’t lean on some of the aforementioned illusions, there is art. Art is our distraction and our buffer. The coping mechanism we use to repress the knowledge of our deaths works well. It gives us meaning and significance and makes us feel like we are part of something bigger than ourselves—that maybe our art will live on after we are gone (symbolic immortality). Regardless of what we do, what we create, or where it ends up or not, the function of art is an important one.
WHY DO WE MAKE ART?
No one is going to save the world by making art. That’s not difficult to understand, and I think we can all agree on that. However, living a creative life can bring peace and satisfaction. And it can bolster your self-esteem. That’s really the function of art. It’s to allow creative people to transfer their existential anxiety onto an object (sublimation), into music, or onto a written page. I’ll talk more about this in a minute. So, we make art to keep our neurosis in check. To bring us meaning and significance and to quell our death anxiety. That’s the function of art. And if people like it after all of that, great! But that’s not the reason or function of art.
THE TWO THINGS THAT I HAVE GREAT CONFIDENCE IN SAYING ARE TRUE
I’ve studied the theories of Ernest Becker, Solomon, et al. (TMT) since 2018. And for the past two years, I’ve engaged with these ideas more deeply than I ever have before. Through these studies, I’m convinced of a couple of things.
CREATING ART IS TERROR MANAGEMENT
First, creating art is done in the service of terror management (TMT). One of the ubiquitous characteristics of human art throughout history and across cultures is the attempt to come to terms with mortality and achieve symbolic forms of immortality. In essence, saying, “I was here” or “remember me!” And the act itself buffers our existential dread. I’m convinced of that. There have been many philosophers, even beyond Becker, who have eluded to this. Peter Zapfee called in sublimation. He said it was the best form of terror management, but few people could do it. He wrote in his essay, The Last Messiah (1933), "Sublimation is the refocusing of energy away from negative outlets toward positive ones. Through stylistic or artistic gifts, the very pain of living can sometimes be converted into valuable experiences. Positive impulses engage the evil and put it to their own ends, fastening onto its pictorial, dramatic, heroic, lyric, or even comic aspects. To write a tragedy, one must to some extent free oneself from—betray—the very feeling of tragedy and regard it from an outer, e.g., aesthetic, point of view. Here is, by the way, an opportunity for the wildest round-dancing through ever higher ironic levels into a most embarrassing circulus vitiosus. Here one can chase one's ego across numerous habitats, enjoying the capacity of the various layers of consciousness to dispel one another. The present essay is a typical attempt at sublimation. The author does not suffer; he is filling pages and is going to be published in a journal."
Ernest Becker wrote, “Both the artist and the neurotic bite off more than they can chew, but the artist spews it back out again and chews it over in an objectified way, as an external, active work project. The neurotic can’t marshal this creative response embodied in a specific work, and so he chokes on his introversions.”
In essence, we’re all neurotic to some degree. It’s part and parcel of the dilemma of existing. The creative life offers something that no other form of terror management can: a literal outlet for existential terror.
Becker goes on to say, "The only way to work on perfection is in the form of an objective work that is fully under your control and is perfectible in some real ways. Either you eat up yourself and others around you, trying for perfection; or you objectify that imperfection in a work, on which you then unleash your creative powers. In this sense, some kind of objective creativity is the only answer man has to the problem of life.
The creative person becomes, in art, literature, and religion the mediator of natural terror and the indicator of a new way to triumph over it. He reveals the darkness and the dread of the human condition and fabricates a new symbolic transcendence over it. This has been the function of the creative deviant from the shamans through Shakespeare.
Otto Rank asked why the artist so often avoids clinical neurosis when he is so much a candidate for it because of his vivid imagination, his openness to the finest and broadest aspects of experience, his isolation from the cultural world-view that satisfies everyone else. The answer is that he takes in the world, but instead of being oppressed by it he reworks it in his own personality and recreates it in the work of art. The neurotic is precisely the one who cannot create.” Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death, 1973
TRIBALISM AND “OTHERING”
And secondly, the way we form tribes and go after the “other” whoever that may be to you. This is what my project (In the Shadow of Sun Mountain: The Psychology of Othering and the Origins of Evil) is about. I’m explaining the reasons for genocide, ethnocide, racism, xenophobia, hate, etc. through these theories. I’ve found that people often talk about these events but never give any solid reasons for why they happen. That’s one of my objectives in this work. I’ve also written quite an extensive section about my own journey. Starting with my own death awareness around the age of eight. I share life stories of death, othering, and the negative effects of in-groups and out-groups. In all of that, I revisited my interest in photography. How I started, what I’ve been interested in, and how this work is really the culmination of 35 plus years of thinking, wondering, and pursuing these ideas.
I recently read a great article on Alternet.org by Bobby Azarian. He is a cognitive neuroscientist and the author of the book The Romance of Reality: How the Universe Organizes Itself to Create Life, Consciousness, and Cosmic Complexity. He wrote, "Terror management theory is more relevant than ever because it provides an explanation for tribalism, which is really at the core of this mystery. The theory suggests that existential terror—which can be triggered by anything that is perceived to pose a threat to one’s existence—is the reason we adopt cultural worldviews, such as our religions, national identities, or political ideologies. In an attempt to mitigate our fears, we latch onto philosophies that give our lives meaning and direction in a chaotic world.
But how does this explain tribalism, exactly?
When we're fearful or threatened, we rally around those who share our worldviews. We become aggressive toward those who don't. More alarmingly, perceived threats or existential fears—immigrants, transgender people, gun grabbing, government conspiracies, humiliation at the hands of "liberal elites”—can stir up nationalism and sway voting habits toward presidential candidates with authoritarian personalities. For example, a study found that when primed to think about their deaths, American students who self-identified as conservatives showed increased support for drastic military interventions that could lead to mass civilian casualties overseas. Another study found that after the 9/11 terror attack, support for then-President George W. Bush spiked, ultimately resulting in his re-election."
My journey studying these theories has been life-altering. I find myself more understanding of human behavior and more tolerant and patient. I’m more open to people’s beliefs and what they lean on to quell their anxiety. As long as their beliefs aren’t hurting themselves or anyone else, I say go for it; we need to find meaning and significance in our lives to make this journey bearable.
I’m grateful and humble (or try to be) for each day I’m above ground. I’m in awe of life and the mystery of it all—my finitude and smallness are always present in my mind; I’m fully present to my cosmic insignificance. I understand that I really don’t know anything, and what I do know is very limited and only in a certain context. I have very little certainty about anything (save what I mentioned in this essay). Life is wonderful, but rarely, if ever, is it black and white. I walk in the world of the “hard place,” not the “rock place.” We are all trying our best to manage our existential terror, whether we know it or not, and most don’t.