I'm currently going through the worst existential crisis I've ever dealt with. It's like Zapffe, Cioran, and all of the rest are beating me to a pulp with baseball bats in my brain. I need some kind of respite. What do I need to read to ease this? Do I just accept their conclusions?
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If you cannot generate meaning then join a cause. If your established methods for generating meaning are failing you then perform new methods.
i usually just reread In My Garden by Ralph Waldo Emerson, it’s a good white pill to stave off the existential slog. That shit never goes away though, you gotta find a way to transfer the decay into a mighty hammer.
Hammer always great option.
it should also be noted that despite being commonly known for bland inspirational quotes today the real emerson was intimately acquainted with sadness and existential crisis
If I could put my woods in song
And tell what's there enjoyed,
All men would to my gardens throng,And leave the cities void
In my plot no tulips blow,
Snow-loving pines and oaks instead
And rank the savage maples grow
From Spring's faint flush to Autumn red.
My garden is a forest ledge
Which older forests bound;
The banks slope down to the blue lake-edge
Then plunge to depths profound
Here once the Deluge ploughed,
Laid the terraces, one by one;
Ebbing later whence it flowed,
They bleach and dry in the sun
The sowers made haste to depart,
The wind and the birds which sowed it;
Not for fame, nor by rules of art,
Planted these, and tempests flowed it.
Waters that wash my garden-side
Play not in Nature's lawful web,
They heed not moon or solar tide,
Five years elapse from flood to ebb.
Hither hasted, in old time, Jove,
And every god,none did refuse;
And be sure at last came Love,
And after Love, the Muse.
Keen ears can catch a syllable,
As if one spake to another,
In the hemlocks tall, untamable,
And what the whispering grasses smother.
Aeolian harps in the pine
Ring with the song of the Fates;
Infant Bacchus in the vine
Far distant yet his chorus waits.
Canst thou copy in verse one chime
Of the wood-bell's peal and cry,
Write in a book the morning's prime,
Or match with words that tender sky?
Wonderful verse of the gods
Of one import, of varied tone;
They chant the bliss of their abode
To man imprisoned in his own.
Ever the words of the gods resound
But the porches of man's ear
Seldom in this low life's round
Are unsealed that he may hear.
Wandering voices in the air
And murmurs in the wold
Speak what I cannot declare,
Yet cannot all withhold.
When the shadow fell on the lake,
The whirlwind in ripples wrote
Air-bells of fortune that shine and break
And omens above thought.
But the meanings cleave to the lake,
Cannot be carried in book or urn;
Go thy ways now, come later back,
On waves and hedges still they burn
These the fates of men forecast,
Of better men than live to-day;
If who can read them comes at last
He will spell in the sculpture, 'Stay
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson
>Zapffe, Cioran
stop reading midwit youtube-tier authors and stop being a fricking narcissist
Read analytic philosophy and if you find it boring because it's not about your feelings, have a nice day
>read analytic philosophy
I get the impression that OP is a bit of a homosexual but you are proof that most readers of analytic philosophy are utter morons
>Read analytic philosophy
Not OP but I'd say the Tractatus is pretty much responsible for like 75% of my existential dread.
It really depends on what the impetus of the crisis is, but I would recommend The Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius and The Decline of the West by Oswald Spengler.
Boethius saved my life when I was going through a rough patch in the military
Same; it saved my life numerous times in fact. I’ve memorized big chunks of it
Read the moomin comics
>Existential crisis: Inner conflicts characterized by the impression that life lacks meaning or by confusion about one's personal identity.
KWAB
Studying NDEs is known to make people find peace with existence. And NDEs are unironically irrefutable proof that heaven really is awaiting us because (1) people see things during their NDEs when they are out of their bodies that they should not be able to under the assumption that the brain creates consciousness, and (2) anyone can have an NDE and everyone is convinced by it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U00ibBGZp7o
So any atheist would be too, so pic related is literally irrefutable proof of life after death. As one NDEr pointed out:
>"I'm still trying to fit it in with this dream that I'm walking around in, in this world. The reality of the experience is undeniable. This world that we live in, this game that we play called life is almost a phantom in comparison to the reality of that."
If NDEs were hallucinations somehow then extreme atheists and neuroscientists who had NDEs would maintain that they were halluinations after having them. But the opposite happens as NDEs convince every skeptic when they have a really deep NDE themselves.
If you’re so weak so as to be beaten to a pulp by emo rants from some inhuman bugmen, then you should just have a nice day.
you have three choices
1. be a homosexual some more
2. kys
3. read the bible
Idk, make IDM or something.
You sound like a massive gay
"Existential crisis" is a synthetic concept, you are just romanticising your boring low status problems of having not enough money or friends
Here's your cure OP
Lmao, how do you not have values as a grown adult? How do you let yourself just scream into the void? It shouldn't be that hard to have something worth believing in and worth fighting for. It may not negate all existential crises, but it will give you the strength to face them without acting like an effeminate child.
>waaah waaah i read dah sad book and i feel sad now, wut do? me gunna cry like little baby! waaah! waaah!
Advaita Vedanta
Start getting into Aleister Crowley. You very quickly see for yourself that there is much more going on in the world than the nihilists think.
But why on earth a perverted LARPer like Crowley instead of someone like Evola?
I don't think Crowley was any more of a larper than Evola. Crowley's stuff just works and it works well.
Evola didn't pretend to be le most evil man alive to get people's attention.
Being called the most evil man alive by a bunch of stuffy English Protestants is not exactly an accomplishment.
He went out of his way to get called that and to remain being called that for the west of his life. He was an attention prostitute.
Instead of just calling Crowley names, find a copy of his autobiography and read it. You'll immediately see how shallow your present opinion of Crowley is.
Reading Cioran puts me in an undescribable state of mirthful ecstacy. I can't fathom someone becoming depressed when reading them. It's making everything possible.
Nihilism is not the end anon, it's merely the very start
Hedonism . There's the solution to your existential crisis.
Can’t relate. Whenever I start to feel bad I end up thinking “what’s the point of being sad?” And it evaporates.
Anyone know anything about:https://boxd.it/3huf
He apparently died from a drug overdose and made a few films available on YouTube anyone seen them?
Zapffe is a pussy, scared of Nietzscheanism
>What do I need to read to ease this?
William Blake's complete works, and Northrop Frye's 'Fearful Symmetry.'
Read Beowulf if you haven't, then read Grendel by John Gardner
Was it caused by a woman? Be honest
sartor resartus