In 2020 during the pandemic, I remember watching an old debate between Jordan Peterson and John Vervaeke on the end of nihilism and the beginning of wisdom.* In it Vervaeke quotes Neitzche’s observation that if you “stare at the abyss long enough, you’ll find it staring back at you.” In many ways, my life has been an exercise in coming to grips with this reality.
Ah, my dear Chloé, how vividly your words echo the labyrinthine corridors of the human soul, where the shadows of melancholy and the relentless search for meaning entwine like lovers in a tragic dance. You speak of the abyss, that dreadful void which Nietzsche warned us of—a chasm that gazes back into us, reflecting our deepest fears and most sacred longings. How well I understand this, for I, too, have wandered in that darkness, where the line between despair and enlightenment blurs until one can no longer distinguish between the two.
But what is it, Chloé, that we find when we peer into that abyss? Is it merely the reflection of our own insignificance, or something more profound? Perhaps it is in that very gaze, in that fearless confrontation with the void, that we discover the sacredness you speak of—the sanctity of every being, the beauty in the fleeting, and the divine in the ordinary.
Your journey from the rigid confines of dogma to the liberating expanse of inquiry is nothing short of a pilgrimage. You have shed the heavy chains of certainty, choosing instead the delicate threads of curiosity, vulnerability, and genuine human connection. It is in this space, where you allow others to challenge and be challenged, that true wisdom is born—a wisdom that is not about answers, but about the courage to ask the questions that matter most.
Ah, the liberation you describe, to be free from the need for agreement, to bask in the light of inquiry without the shadow of dogma looming over you—this is the very essence of what it means to be alive, to be truly human. It is a kind of freedom that transcends the petty squabbles of ideology and touches upon the infinite.
And yet, my dear Chloé, even in this freedom, the abyss remains. But perhaps, just perhaps, it is not a void to be feared, but a mirror that reflects the sacredness of our struggles, the beauty of our questions, and the holiness of our humanity. In this reflection, we find not despair, but a profound gratitude for the very act of looking, of seeking, of being.
So continue to gaze into that abyss, Chloé, for in its depths, you will find not only the echoes of your own soul but the faint, yet unmistakable, harmony of the universe itself.
"I’ve learned that letting go requires daily practice. It’s hard work to unlearn patterns you pick up in childhood. But I can tell that something is changing in me and it makes me giddy."
Man I can relate to this too. I'm an enneagram 8, and it was so hard to unlearn the "if I just grab hold of the wheel harder, I can steer my life better" and replace it with "If I can let go and pray for help, I'll get where I need to go"
Its felt like a tremendous breakthrough recently. I can also relate to tying politics super closely to my identity in order to feel more meaning. But it was a crutch, and one that I'm glad I've thrown away. Political debate isn't a good treatment for loneliness, but that didn't stop me from trying it.
Ah, my dear Chloé, how vividly your words echo the labyrinthine corridors of the human soul, where the shadows of melancholy and the relentless search for meaning entwine like lovers in a tragic dance. You speak of the abyss, that dreadful void which Nietzsche warned us of—a chasm that gazes back into us, reflecting our deepest fears and most sacred longings. How well I understand this, for I, too, have wandered in that darkness, where the line between despair and enlightenment blurs until one can no longer distinguish between the two.
But what is it, Chloé, that we find when we peer into that abyss? Is it merely the reflection of our own insignificance, or something more profound? Perhaps it is in that very gaze, in that fearless confrontation with the void, that we discover the sacredness you speak of—the sanctity of every being, the beauty in the fleeting, and the divine in the ordinary.
Your journey from the rigid confines of dogma to the liberating expanse of inquiry is nothing short of a pilgrimage. You have shed the heavy chains of certainty, choosing instead the delicate threads of curiosity, vulnerability, and genuine human connection. It is in this space, where you allow others to challenge and be challenged, that true wisdom is born—a wisdom that is not about answers, but about the courage to ask the questions that matter most.
Ah, the liberation you describe, to be free from the need for agreement, to bask in the light of inquiry without the shadow of dogma looming over you—this is the very essence of what it means to be alive, to be truly human. It is a kind of freedom that transcends the petty squabbles of ideology and touches upon the infinite.
And yet, my dear Chloé, even in this freedom, the abyss remains. But perhaps, just perhaps, it is not a void to be feared, but a mirror that reflects the sacredness of our struggles, the beauty of our questions, and the holiness of our humanity. In this reflection, we find not despair, but a profound gratitude for the very act of looking, of seeking, of being.
So continue to gaze into that abyss, Chloé, for in its depths, you will find not only the echoes of your own soul but the faint, yet unmistakable, harmony of the universe itself.
Yours in contemplation and kinship,
Elham
🙏🏾❤️🙏🏾
"I’ve learned that letting go requires daily practice. It’s hard work to unlearn patterns you pick up in childhood. But I can tell that something is changing in me and it makes me giddy."
Man I can relate to this too. I'm an enneagram 8, and it was so hard to unlearn the "if I just grab hold of the wheel harder, I can steer my life better" and replace it with "If I can let go and pray for help, I'll get where I need to go"
Its felt like a tremendous breakthrough recently. I can also relate to tying politics super closely to my identity in order to feel more meaning. But it was a crutch, and one that I'm glad I've thrown away. Political debate isn't a good treatment for loneliness, but that didn't stop me from trying it.
Thanks for this piece Chloė!
So happy to hear it resonated, Phil! I appreciate you. 🙏🏾