Before the reader begins reading this post, allow me to share a bit of context of 'the why' I wrote this and 'the why' I'm sharing this now. In a recent podcast episode, I discussed various types of journaling (Stoicism in Practice) one of which is a deep form in which I reflect on my thoughts and emotions and value judgements. Sometimes these journal entries serve to help me rebound from a mental downturn and they help me put in check some faulty thinking. I've been doing this type of journaling at various times between 2018 and the present in 2026. I often go back to read these entries, which have a palliative effect on my thinking and emotions. As to why I'm publishing this particular journal entry; I have felt that this was an important entry, which not only was a pivotal point in my life, but it also demonstrates some types of practices which others might find helpful. Also, there is a bit of an aesthetic element to this journal entry, which ties multiple ideas, books, life events, a song and even a painting into the mix, all of which demonstrates we can find and use multiple avenues to help in our quest of making life meaningful and fulfilling. Having reflected on this journal entry for over six months, I felt that it was useful to share and it is timely in terms of Easter weekend.
Furthermore, let me add one other caveat to this post. I fully recognize that this was written from my unique perspective and that many will not fully comprehend nor appreciate the personal nature of this journal entry. Sometimes I don't fully comprehend my thoughts or events in my life (hence, one of the reasons I write these entries). The reader may have questions or scratch their head as they read, which would not surprise me. But perhaps there might be principles or new ideas which might spark positive changes in their life. Additionally, by sharing such things, there might be the possibility that others will feel less isolated in this world and know that they are not alone when they may possibly think similar things or even think their thoughts and ideas are strange too!
And one final point - I've edited various parts of the entry, replacing the names of people with their "role" or "relationship" in my life, or I've removed the specific type of work or activity and replaced it with something more generalized.
On Despair and Meaning
The third week of August (2025) was a tough one, especially as I did not do well in basketball. This triggered another 'lack-of-motivation' episode. Coupled with the on-going lack of sleep as the week progressed, and a week of pretty bad traffic on my daily commute, by Wednesday, August 20, I was not in much of a mood to be with people. On Tuesday, I had a 1-1 with my manager, and she surprised me with a question about what my top 3 items will be for performance assessment for the year. I shared with her what they were, to which she responded I needed to 'finish and tie a bow' on one of the items. This was a bit frustrating to me, due to the fact that (as others have mentioned to me), if this were easy work, it would be done already!
I went to a reunion lunch with some old co-workers, but I didn't feel much like talking. I didn't even talk to close friend, who was in town for the week. But I powered through that day and the rest of the week and kept progressing on work. By Friday, I really wasn't in the mood for basketball or chess. Friday morning, I got up, went to basketball and played. I ran up and down the court, but I was only going through the motions. After basketball, I lifted weights, since the workout at basketball was not that great. Then I cooled off, and determined I just wanted to get through the day. I cleaned up, then got coffee and went to a meeting with one of my direct reports. That meeting went well, but I was mentally done for the day. I skipped chess and drove home. Later in the day, I had another meeting with another one of my direct reports, then I completed some mandatory staffing reports and then I logged off.
My wife and I had scheduled a dinner with some long-time, good friends. The BBQ place we were planning on going to was closed at 5pm, so we didn't go there. Instead, we went to Carrabas and ate pasta. The dinner was fine, but the conversation was average. Then my wife and I went to a grocery story to get some prescriptions and ice cream. Then we went home and ate ice cream and watched TV.
Saturday morning - I woke up around 8am or so; weighed in, which showed I was over my desired weight. I then decided to fast and not do anything all weekend. I didn't talk much on our normal weekend walk on Saturday. My wife wanted her closet shelf installed as well as the upstairs attic room finished (just some normal to-do tasks). I wanted to watch the first day of college football at 11am. But after the feedback from my manager and the reminders from my wife to finish things up, I suppose I felt my 'freedom' continue to erode. I am constantly reminded, by work and demands from others, that my life is not my own. And so, in a form of rebellion, I passively submit, but not with my heart. I rebel with my motivation (or lack thereof). Maybe it is resentment, and to exert my perception of 'freedom' I act socially by doing what others ask of me, but I don't act gung-ho about it.
So, I installed the shelf in her closet. I removed the old IT equipment from the closet upstairs and hauled it to the curb. I installed the legs on the desk. From 11am to 2:30pm, I did what my wife wanted to be done. Then, I rested, showered and laid on the couch, having missed the Iowa St. vs Kansas St. game, and watched the Fresno St. vs Kansas game and other games that were on. I laid there and watched TV all the way to 10pm, then I went to bed. I fasted all day and went to bed and did not fall asleep. I laid there in bed, with eyes wide open and stared at the reflected light from the street which came into our room. One of my dogs jumped up on the bed around 12, as he usually does. I pushed him off. He jumped up again around 2am and I lifted him and put him on the floor. And he tried again, one more time at 5am and I put him on the floor again. I finally got up at 8:30 and he jumped up on the bed and laid on the spot where I slept.
I walked the dogs, then my wife and I went on our walk. She asked how I was doing and I told her that I just need to go through these phases every now and then and that I'd be back to normal after some time has passed. That satisfied her for the time being. We chatted about a few other things, but there wasn't much talking. We got home; I worked on reconstituting the rocks by the fence, then went inside and showered the dogs, trimmed my beard and showered. Then I repeated Saturday, and sat on the couch and watched golf and TV. I worked on some chess, read work email, prepped for week, but largely did nothing. We had the family call, then watched some TV and went to bed.
On Monday, August 25, I got up, drove to work and the gym, but did not go to basketball. Instead, I lifted weights. On my drive to work, I continued listening to Rollo May's Man's Search for Himself (1953). I started listening to this book after listening to an Irvin Yalom podcast (recorded a few years ago) in which he mentioned he and Rollo were really good friends. Today, I listened to a part of a chapter which talked about philosophical suicide. And one of the examples he shared really struck a chord with me. It read,
"Or a young man feels he can never be happy unless he gains some fame. He begins to realize that he is competent and valuable, let us say as an assistant professor; but the higher he gets on the ladder the clearer he sees that there are always persons above him, that "many are called but few are chosen,” that very few people gain fame anyway, and that he may end up just a good and competent teacher. He might then feel that he would be as insignificant as a grain of sand, his life meaningless, and he might as well not be alive. The idea of suicide creeps into his mind in his more despondent moods. Sooner or later he, too, thinks, “All right, assume I’ve done it—what then?” And it suddenly dawns on him that, if he came back after the suicide, there would be a lot left in life even if one were not famous. He then chooses to go on living, as it were, without the demand for fame. It is as though the part of him which could not live without fame does commit suicide. And in killing the demand for fame, he may also realize as a byproduct that the things which yield lasting joy and inner security have very little to do with the external and fickle standards of public opinion anyway. He may then appreciate the more than flippant wisdom in Ernest Hemingway’s remark, “Who the hell wants fame over the week-end? I want to write well.” And finally, as a result of the partial suicide, he may clarify his own goals and arrive at more of a feeling for the joy which comes from fulfilling his own potentialities, from finding and teaching the truth as he sees it and adding his own unique contribution arising from his own integrity rather than the servitude to fame."
While the above passage deals with this man's desire for fame, I think the lesson is applicable to a few aspects of my life. If I experiment with the idea of philosophical suicide in the domain of basketball (something which has been a part of my identity my entire life), then perhaps I have freshly burned ground on which to grow a new phase or talent in my life. For example, I am 6 months away from turning 50. What if, for the next 6 months, I don't play basketball, but instead, focus on lifting weights, sticking religiously to a keto or carnivore diet, coupled with fasting, and then as a 'reward' for my focus and diligent effort, I get two tattoos on my arms. On the underside of my left forearm, it says, "life begins on the far side of despair" and on the underside of my right forearm, it says, "toti se inserens mundo." And these would be constant reminders to myself of the numerous choices I have to each day of my life - the freedom I have. Allow me to elaborate more on this.
I came across the first phrase while reading Irving Yalom. “Human life begins on the far side of despair” comes from Sartre's The Flies (1989) and Yalom's Existential Psychotherapy (1980, 430). In The Flies, the main character, Orestes, has been living his whole life (of despair), by living for others. Ultimately, he finds his own reason for living: avenging the murder of his father, by killing his mother and her lover and then letting the people of Argos deal with their own despair.
As a quick footnote, on March 31, 2026, I came across a similar sentiment from Camus, while reading the book Albert Camus and the literature of revolt by John Cruickshank on p. xi (1960) in which he says Camus wrote “there is no love of life without despair of life.”
Sartre, according to Yalom, "arrived at a position in his fiction that clearly values the search for meaning and even suggests paths to take in that search. These include finding a 'home' and comradeship in the world, action, freedom, rebellion against oppression, service to others, enlightenment, self-realization, and engagement - always and above all, engagement" (1980, 10).
And then a paragraph later, Yalom notes, "What is important for both Camus and Sartre is that human beings recognize that one must invent one's own meaning (rather than discover God's or nature's meaning) and then commit oneself fully to fulfilling that meaning. This requires that one be, as Gordon Allport put it, "half-sure and whole-hearted"- not an easy feat. Sartre's ethic requires a leap into engagement. On this one point most Western theological and atheistic existential systems agree: it is good and right to immerse oneself in the stream of life" (1980, 10).
On this last point, regarding immersing oneself in the stream of life, I am reminded, again, of Seneca's toti se inserens mundo (Seneca, 2024, Letter 66).
Briefly, as a side note, Gordon Allport (1897–1967) was a pioneering American psychologist best known for founding the field of personality psychology. He penned the phrase 'half-sure and whole-hearted' in his book Becoming: Basic Considerations for a Psychology of Personality (1978), in which he explores how individuals grow and develop a sense of self. He suggests that genuine commitment often arises not from absolute certainty, but from a courageous willingness to act despite uncertainty.
And so, to wrap up this fascinating week and weekend, and after having fasted for 63 and 1/2 hours, a William Orbit song, which has haunted me for years, came to my mind late Sunday night after these two phrases ('life begins on the far side of despair' and 'toti se inserens mundo') bounced around my head all day. The song is called Piece in the Old Style III and for me, it has evoked an image of a seemingly endless desert plain before me, with the skies filled dark-purple under the light of dusk. And in the far off distant horizon, I see not only mountains, but lightening dancing and striking at the foothills of these mountains. I could not help but connect 'the plain' to the idea of enduring despair, and once I reach the far side of the plain, I will find mountains, energy and meaning. And then before me, a mountain, on which I will throw my entire effort to scale it.
And at this point, let me amend this journal entry and add to it, having looked back on this entry for about six months ( April 2, 2026). To add to the previous paragraph, I'd like to share even more, as it relates to a Facebook group post by a contributor named Emily Snow and the post is entitled The Crucifixion as Existential Revelation: A Metaphysical Descent Into Being from the Practical Existentialism Facebook group, April 2025. Below, this post which has made a profound impact on me, is fully copied.
The crucifixion of Jesus Christ, read through the lens of Existential Philosophy, ceases to be a mere historical or theological event and is unveiled instead as a profound ontological enactment—an archetypal exposure of the human condition. It is not simply a tale of suffering or sacrifice but a metaphysical drama in which the illusion of permanence, identity, and meaning is pierced by the naked confrontation with Being itself.
To begin with, the image of the crucified Christ stretched between earth and sky, arms outstretched in surrender, is the perfect symbol of thrownness—what Heidegger called Geworfenheit—the inescapable fact that we find ourselves "there" in the world, not by choice, but by the mystery of existence.
Christ’s anguished cry, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46), is not the voice of a man abandoned by God, but the existential wail of consciousness severed from its imagined certainties. It is the collapse of metaphysical assurance. It is the trembling recognition that no scaffolding of inherited belief can shield us from the raw abyss of being.
Søren Kierkegaard, the father of existentialism, describes such moments as the dizziness of freedom—the point at which the individual stands alone before existence, with nothing but their own subjectivity as a compass. The crucifixion, then, is not an anomaly but the exposure of this essential condition: that no one can suffer, choose, or die in our place. We are each crucified on the cross of our own subjectivity.
Logically, the crucifixion deconstructs the Cartesian notion of the self as a thinking substance. For in Christ’s crucifixion we see not a thinking self but a suffering self—one reduced to embodiment, nailed into finitude, stripped of narrative control. This aligns with the existential rejection of essence preceding existence. There is no stable self enduring this ordeal—only the ongoing disintegration of every imagined identity.
The thorns upon the brow: symbols of thought as torment. The nails through hands and feet: metaphors for being nailed to the consequences of one’s own embodiment and actions. The pierced side: the exposure of the heart—of vulnerability as the only path to truth. In this way, the crucifixion is not tragedy but unveiling.
As Albert Camus wrote in The Myth of Sisyphus:
“The only real philosophical question is whether life is worth living.”
And Christ, like Sisyphus, does not answer that question with words, but by embodying it. The cross is the confrontation with absurdity; the silence that follows is the death of explanation. But unlike Sisyphus who rolls his stone in defiance, Christ hangs in surrender—not to death, but to the transparency of Being itself. His final words—“It is finished”—are not defeat, but transcendence of meaning. For in that moment, the personal dissolves into the universal.
Nietzsche, who declared the death of God, was pointing not to theological heresy, but to the same existential abyss made visible on Golgotha. The death of the metaphysical God is the prerequisite for the birth of the authentic individual—one who does not borrow meaning but dares to bear its absence and still affirm life.
To grasp the crucifixion existentially is to recognize that salvation is not deferred into heaven but hidden in the very core of human despair. The cross becomes the symbol not of death, but of that space in which all illusions die. The self is crucified; what remains is not void, but the possibility of radical freedom.
This is echoed in Heidegger’s notion of resoluteness (Entschlossenheit)—the willingness to stand open before the truth of one's own finitude. In crucifixion, we confront the ultimate non-negotiable: mortality. Yet strangely, only by embracing it do we awaken to the fullness of life.
The crucifixion, stripped of religious dogma and seen through the existential eye, is the most honest image of human existence. It does not offer consolation, but confrontation. It does not preach redemption, but radical truth. It is the death of the false self, the annihilation of illusion, and the unveiling of the Real.
In this light, the crucifixion is not merely an event to be believed in—but a condition to be lived through.
I copied the above into my personal notebook and have been re-reading it through the past year at various times. After re-reading the above, in March 2026, it struck me deeply yet again, to the point that I began contemplating crucifixion paintings. While looking at various Renaissance crucifixion paintings, I came across a Salvador Dali crucifixion painting entitled Hypercubus, and while looking at it, I was struck with amazement of not only its beauty, but also by the chessboard and the desolate landscape behind the crucified Christ. This background landscape is nearly identical to the one I had imagined while listening to William Orbit's Piece in the Old Style III. I was so impacted by this realization, that I found a copy of the painting online and purchased a reproduction of it and have hung it in my home office. I find myself looking at it and contemplating the symbolism described by Emily Snow and how it relates to me. The point which strikes me while looking at this painting is: While feeling despair and coming into contact with total reality and the abyss, I cannot simply resign or be stuck at 'despair' or, even if I am, I know there is still something 'up to me' to decide and act on in my life by creating my own meaning out of life - this is a positive affirmation of my commitment to living an authentic life. The Dali painting captures both the moment and realization of despair, as well as a forceful reminder as to what is on the other side of that realization.
Practically, for me, meaning means re-commitment to studying philosophy and psychology, and throwing myself into chess and living a physically healthy life and experimenting with other projects and joys, such as working in my yard and garden. These will be my meaning on a day by day basis - what I look forward to, and plan for, when work does not interfere. Specifically as it relates to chess, to not only enjoy playing it, but to connect with people (as I have done for many years) and enjoy the challenge and social nature of the game. Specifically as it relates to philosophy and psychology, to also connect with my peers, colleagues and students at the College of Stoic Philosophers and others. And on the weekend, to be with my wife and spend time with her and to live and be with her - to always strive to connect and reconnect with her. And beyond, we will continue to plan for more time together and to travel and be with our children and see the world.
This is effectively the end of my journal entry. But allow me to add just a bit more to this blog post, in the form of sharing some counseling and therapy advice for any who might come across this blog post and need guidance on how to contemplate what their 'meaning' ought to be. I found some of this advice through various books, on-line forums and even 'chatting' with some AI applications.
How to create your meaning
Begin with your lived experience - observe your actual life and your past (times which have been meaningful to you). Which activities seem to have made time disappear? When have you felt "yourself" the most? What has evoked moments of disgust, admiration or longing? You can also consider your "thrownness" as Heidegger has explained. How does your history, talents, limitations and culture inform your meaning?
Identify "existential tensions or anxieties" - sometimes conflicts often create meaning. Which contradictions refuse to go away in your life? Which injustices or absurdities can you not tolerate? Which responsibilities make you feel compelled to continue carrying on with? In brief, face your anxieties and try to pinpoint how this feeling threatens a value.
Note values which cause action in your life, as opposed to simple introspection - sometimes small experiments will reveal your values. Maybe a small life project frightens you, but commitments or 'dipping your toes in the water' will snowball into something bigger. Sometimes, writing about this will help identify and clarify values and cause action. Perhaps consider writing your own eulogy, write a list of values which are meaningful to you, or creating a bucket list or list of "unfinished tasks."
Invent your essence and direction of being through long-term commitments - for example, you could positively state what you stand for and which values are most important to you: "I will become someone who cultivates clarity in others." "I will fight for the injustices brought on women caught in the snare physical or even religious bondage."
Rebel and defy the void and nihilism proclaimed by so many - confront the absurd; resist the inertia of nihilism; refuse false comforts and in their place, create beauty, connection, creativity and meaning.
Consider your relations - how can you help others recognize their freedom and expand on it? Which relationships call to you and how do you fortify and enrich them? As you commit and build on these relationships, be sure to speak honestly, show your real self, allow others to matter and in turn let yourself matter to them. Furthermore, you may consider which relationships need repair. Be sure to express gratitude and say what needs to be said. Sometimes small acts will positively affect others and cause a ripple effect.
Always accept your freedom and responsibility in life - Where are you giving away your freedom? What choices are you pretending you don't have? What life are you waiting for permission to live? Your own meaning grows when you own your freedom.
To conclude, briefly, these two phrases encapsulate so many profound truths and ideas for me. Perhaps they will inspire change and meaning in you too:
Life begins on the far side of despair.
toti se inserens mundo.
References
Allport, G. W. (1978). Becoming; basic considerations for a psychology of personality; 33rd pr /G.W. Allport. New Haven
Cruickshank, J. (1960). Albert Camus and the literature of revolt. Oxford University Press.
May, R. (1953). Man’s search for himself. Norton.
Sartre, Jean-Paul. (1989). No Exit and Three Other Plays (S. Gilbert & I. Abel, Trans.). Vintage International. (Original work published 1944)
Seneca. (2024). Ad Lucilium Epistulae Morales. Uchicago.edu. https://artflsrv03.uchicago.edu/philologic4/Latin/navigate/129/7/4/
Yalom, I. D. (1980). Existential psychotherapy. Basic Books.

