DE Weekly: Amor Fati, Nietzsche, & Sisyphus
Although existentialism didn’t roll around to officially cement itself as a bona fide philosophy until the twentieth century, earlier philosophies explored proto-existentialist ideas and laid the foundation upon which it would one day sprout from.
One philosophy that has quite a bit in common with existentialism, at least insofar as it seeks to answer many of the same questions, is the ancient philosophy of Stoicism.
DE Weekly: Life, Death, & Certainty
“Life and death are two sides of a coin. But which of the two is more certain?” The answer to that question, as we know, is death.
That question came from Narendra Modi, the Prime Minister of India. I included some quotes of his from his appearance on an episode of the Lex Fridman Podcast in my newsletter a few weeks ago, and there’s some more insight from Modi I’d like to include this week, too.
DE Weekly: Vitalism, Nietzsche, & God
“God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we, murderers of all murderers, console ourselves?”
This quote from Friedrich Nietzsche’s 1882 book The Gay Science is one of his most famous.
DE Weekly: Vervaeke, Van Gogh, & The Meaning Crisis
Of all the ways I’ve seen existentialism explained, one of my favorites remains the following: existentialism is a profound symptom of the human condition.
Here’s how I interpret this: while existentialism is a bona fide philosophy in its own right, it’s also something innate to human beings, as innate as our consciousness and sense of self, perhaps born of the two.
DE Weekly: Bukowski, Sisyphus, & the Human Condition
It’s difficult to wake up every day and be grateful for what you have. It’s difficult to remain in the present moment and remind yourself how good you have things. I’m guilty of this myself, usually when I’m in the middle of some necessary drudgery, like running certain errands or–God forbid–when I find myself somewhere as unholy as the DMV.
DE Weekly: Camus, The Stranger, & Absurdism
“Maman died today.” This opening line from Albert Camus’s The Stranger is one of the most famous lines ever written by any of the existentialists. For good reason, too; it begins one of the best works of existentialist fiction, a story so important because of its mastery of Absurdism.