#1 ·
The core issue here is essentially how far an individual intends to push their own self-development and spirituality, versus how much they settle for frivolous, fleeting quick fixes—those superficial religious veneers and New Age recipes typically cobbled together from religious or psychoanalytic theories dressed up in naive semantics.
The term "spirituality" itself, which relies on spirit as its central motif, ideologically implies a counterpoint to materialism; it suggests non-substantialism. In nearly all religious texts, the imperative to renounce material wealth emerges as a necessity for the spiritual and secular lives of religious figures—essentially acting as an idealistic paradigm.
Such a demand placed upon a human being stands in direct opposition to our innate nature, which is defined by the permanent attempt to satisfy our own internal voids. As one philosopher clarified, the very existence of passion is a clear indicator that human reality is one of scarcity. It is an unquenchable scarcity that easily devolves into compensation through extreme forms of human gratification, manifesting as blind greed and hatred.
Thus, it is clear that in the struggle against our own animality, man must sacrifice his inherent inclination toward materialism to slowly ascend toward, say, the divine, in order to reach what is ultimately a true ordering of reality. Truth is ugly, according to N.
However, it is difficult to realize this imperative *a priori*, and even harder to abandon the psychological primacy through which we live our lives: our instincts.
The reward is hazy; the state of consciousness belonging to a sublime spirit is an intangible unknown that cannot be pursued if one isn't even aware of its existence.
It is obvious that such a philosophy cannot be contemplated unless it is lived. It requires a different worldview, a different tuning of the nervous system—something that seems impossible to the average person. This requires either an innate quality or circumstances driven by a certain destined force.
Our needs and desires are, even historically speaking, replaceable as momentary pursuits. It would be absurd to suggest that a modern person wants exactly what an 18th-century resident wanted, such as a new carriage and a horse. Yet, that was just as much of a struggle for them as a luxury car is for someone today.
So, who is truly prepared to sublimate nature—that nature whose enchanting, scenic beauty we admire—while beneath our feet, a dramatically fatal and relentless war plays out as a compensation for the eternal deficiency felt by those who live?
An ambitious man who works for hours just to enjoy wealth still represents the ideal of human will and struggle, but can he simultaneously enjoy his entire estate in the same way a higher spirit can enjoy the entirety of its own hard-won, superhuman consciousness?
The term "spirituality" itself, which relies on spirit as its central motif, ideologically implies a counterpoint to materialism; it suggests non-substantialism. In nearly all religious texts, the imperative to renounce material wealth emerges as a necessity for the spiritual and secular lives of religious figures—essentially acting as an idealistic paradigm.
Such a demand placed upon a human being stands in direct opposition to our innate nature, which is defined by the permanent attempt to satisfy our own internal voids. As one philosopher clarified, the very existence of passion is a clear indicator that human reality is one of scarcity. It is an unquenchable scarcity that easily devolves into compensation through extreme forms of human gratification, manifesting as blind greed and hatred.
Thus, it is clear that in the struggle against our own animality, man must sacrifice his inherent inclination toward materialism to slowly ascend toward, say, the divine, in order to reach what is ultimately a true ordering of reality. Truth is ugly, according to N.
However, it is difficult to realize this imperative *a priori*, and even harder to abandon the psychological primacy through which we live our lives: our instincts.
The reward is hazy; the state of consciousness belonging to a sublime spirit is an intangible unknown that cannot be pursued if one isn't even aware of its existence.
It is obvious that such a philosophy cannot be contemplated unless it is lived. It requires a different worldview, a different tuning of the nervous system—something that seems impossible to the average person. This requires either an innate quality or circumstances driven by a certain destined force.
Our needs and desires are, even historically speaking, replaceable as momentary pursuits. It would be absurd to suggest that a modern person wants exactly what an 18th-century resident wanted, such as a new carriage and a horse. Yet, that was just as much of a struggle for them as a luxury car is for someone today.
So, who is truly prepared to sublimate nature—that nature whose enchanting, scenic beauty we admire—while beneath our feet, a dramatically fatal and relentless war plays out as a compensation for the eternal deficiency felt by those who live?
An ambitious man who works for hours just to enjoy wealth still represents the ideal of human will and struggle, but can he simultaneously enjoy his entire estate in the same way a higher spirit can enjoy the entirety of its own hard-won, superhuman consciousness?