Doubt, Desire, Death, and Dogmas

We all understand aspects of the human experience in our own way. Parts of our humanity extend far back into our history, yet we feel them with full intensity in the immediate present. We have always struggled with the challenges of doubt, desire, and death. For the majority of the human time experience, life was brutish and full of unknowns. Over time we developed dogmas to distract us from our fears and persistent longings to be more than our circumstances allow. From various spiritual technologies sprung beliefs and practices intending to address these challenges. Personal rituals such as meditation, yoga, prayer, communal practices like fasting, war, and the ritual sacrifice of animals and humans all served to further human connection with the gods we created. These historical solutions were rooted in an immediate present far distant from ours. Today we understand that the available spiritual technologies offer no viable alternatives to the crisis and, in many ways, are leveraged to reinforce existing philosophies of meaning and value that have directed us toward the age of crisis. The crisis of doubt, desire, and death is, at its core, a crisis of spirituality. We must develop new answers to old questions, but to do that we must overcome deeply held dogmas. Here we encounter the paradox of the age of crisis. Systemic actualization is a way of organizing society that prioritizes individual actualization but requires society to pass a threshold of individually actualized people to build it. There is nowhere to begin but the end, leaving us with the challenge of creating both at once. To address the crisis of doubt, desire, and death, we must reimagine the systems of meaning and value that guide our personal philosophies and practice.

Doubt gives life to the imposter, an individual who, through a lifetime of conditioning, can never draw higher meaning from their efforts. It’s part of existing within a relational universe. We primarily measure ourselves through comparison. We are surrounded by institutions that imprint specific ideas about wants and their relation to our personhood, creating pathways of perpetual disappointment for many. We can never do enough to meet our expectations or the expectations of those around us. It’s not a question of capacity or will; it is the recognition that the vast majority grapple with their place in the world. The crisis of doubt results from inhabiting a universe of feedback loops that tell us we are not enough.

Doubt of being enough for ourselves and those we love drives us to escape. We inwardly retreat into an empire of imagined alternatives that we will never act upon. Doubt is the catalyst of cowardice, the delusion whereby doing nothing we remain safest from the nearly infinite potential failures that await us. Doubt is a form of ambivalence that denies one of the most consistent aspects of human experience throughout time: the sacrifice of the individual for family, tribe, and future. 

We find it frustrating that others often do not meet our expectations, when in reality we expect them to relieve us of the questions only we can answer. How do we find meaning when everything we do creates new doubts within us? How often have you found yourself in a position where others believed in you, yet you still doubted yourself? We reject the radical potential dormant within us, denying what we know to be true because we are afraid to claim it as such. Our retreat is not illogical; our limited social protections ensure that the burden of failure for experimentation is immense. To stray from mindless obedience to the effort of creation is a path of hardship that can eliminate the material security of the individual if unsuccessful. Our experimental impulses are tempered by systems that prevent people from trying for fear of destitution. So long as doubting our abilities to create change is the path of least resistance in life, crisis will prevail.

Consider the doubt through our relationship with scarcity. The history of human civilization has been a persistent struggle for resources. Without them, we are insecure, a threat to ourselves and our loved ones. Our needs and wants have always expanded beyond the resources we have access to. For most of human history, the majority struggled to obtain rudimentary luxuries beyond sustenance. We have been subject to material scarcity for so long that it has become embedded in our understanding of the universe. It impacts our imagination of the possible and binds us to directions in life we would prefer to avoid. Our understanding of material scarcity as an innate part of existence helps us understand why we often question if we have enough, but nature denies us an equivalent instinctual rejection of too much. We try to replace our need for human connection with things, but they only ever temporarily relieve our doubt. Overcoming doubt coincides with our recognition of the fact that in the immediate present, material scarcity does not exist within the context of the past, and in the near future will likely not exist within any context we presently understand. It is within our present capacity to reorganize our economic, social, and political structures so that none suffer from a need for basic material security; it is in our power to redefine the human time experience to better equip the individual to overcome doubt in relation to their basic survival. 

When we consider doubt through the lens of the relational universe, we do so while understanding that the luxuries of our immediate present are built on the back of imperialist conquest. Much of the historical progress of nations that brought us to this moment draws upon the efforts of colonizers and the wealth of the colonized. Intergenerational poverty warps the time experience of groups to a degree where conceptualizing the world becomes a self-reinforcing space of struggle and despair that opens up the possibility of doubt evolving into nihilism. 

In his book Race Matters, Dr. Cornel West explores the concept of nihilism that has grown within pockets of Black communities due to the perpetual disenfranchisement they have been subject to. West argues that the oversaturation of market-inspired meaning overtakes the adoption of nonmarket values such as love, empathy, and service to others. The consequences of this consumerist indoctrination on those inhabiting permanent states of struggle limit the individual’s capacity to ward off self-contempt and hatred, resulting in the rise of an abandonment of hope for the future.55 Claims that nihilism is an easy excuse to avoid action discount the overlapping event chains that shape reality for those born into abject poverty. Self-actualization in the age of crisis cannot occur within social frameworks reinforcing class and caste. 

Doubt can also take the form of inaction, procrastination, or redirection. When we consider all available options in the immediate present, we always have an opportunity to act in a specific direction. Sometimes the best course of action is active inaction, doing nothing in order to allow the surrounding happenings within our time experience to unravel. However, we should not confuse active inaction with the failure to imagine alternatives. In a world of manufactured comparison and artificial values, it’s easy for us to default to the value of no. No, that won’t work. No, it’s not worth the effort. No, this is fine. We are taught to prioritize stability to the degree that anything outside of the norm is threatening. As a result, we turn toward inaction as an unconscious expression of our doubt so often that it becomes natural. Procrastination draws from the same preconditions, an innate fear of our actions not being enough to satisfy our desires. Instead of harnessing the power of our creativity in the moment, we postpone action to delay confronting what needs to be done. Other times we simply redirect, giving up on a path we understand to be rewarding but deem too difficult to warrant the investment of focus and energy. The repetitive avoidance of focused action becomes habit-forming and eventually calcifies as our default response to challenges. We embrace ease as a virtue only to find ourselves perpetually dissatisfied and frustrated with the way things are. 

Doubt is an inherent aspect of existing in a universe where our purpose is either undefined or inadequate. What if I am not enough? Why can’t I become the person I know I can be? If nothing I do ever satisfies me beyond a fleeting moment, what’s the point of doing anything? These questions about being are as old as humanity’s capacity to think about them. Now the single truth empowers us to reexamine these questions through a new lens. Perhaps this is why the struggle is more relevant now than ever before. We have always existed within structures that only further our doubt. The frameworks of living we are born into deny us the security and resources necessary for individual actualization and the fulfillment paths that come with it. We yearn to escape but are denied the opportunity by the web of systems surrounding us. 

Doubt spreads within the individual, then it seeps outward to others. When sharing my efforts in composing this text with a friend, he asked why I would write a book that no one would read. The answer is to create and become more. Through this divine action, doubt is dissolved. Doubt is a crisis because it spreads like a plague by individual carriers who do not connect their pessimism of possibility with their interpersonal struggle of believing in themselves. It is only natural and in accordance with the relational universe that one who doubts their own capacity will doubt the capacity of others. Transcending the crisis is the active alignment of individual and system to produce a greater self. In doing so, we transform our struggle with doubt into methods and practices that support our overcoming it. We become more fearless with regard to the expression of our potential. 

Desire is an appetite we can never satiate. What we have is never enough. More is always on the horizon, always beckoning us to leave the present behind to seek greater futures. Desire is the mutual catalyst of progress and inadequacy. Our striving for bigness is a perpetual struggle with our individual smallness. Desire is both a material and interpersonal crisis, but ultimately a struggle for greater access and agency within the world. We come to understand what we desire through our observation of others, often developing these conclusions by focusing on what we lack. This analysis through comparison is inherent to our inhabiting a relational universe, but it often generates new doubts within us, leading to expanding desires in a self-perpetuating cycle. 

Desire is an insatiable aspect of existence as the individual experiences it. Various degrees of desire range from healthy to unhealthy, but the changing nature of time ensures that they are always there. For some, desires act as a source of inspired imagination; for others, impulsive self-destruction. We all experience desire in a variety of degrees and manifestations. The vast majority have always lacked the material security necessary to develop individual actualization. Those without access or agency become caught in the momentum of millennia, forced to inhabit roles within the universe that they had no say in crafting. For those living in secure material circumstances, desire takes the form of interpersonal relationships with oneself and the world. Desire is not inherently positive or negative, yet it is both for the individual. When we direct desire toward creation, we embrace divinity in its highest form. Allowing desire to direct our focus and energy is a sure way to cause untold harm to ourselves and our loved ones. From our present moment, it is difficult to imagine a human time experience free from desire. Even if we can self-actualize in the age of crisis and transcend material desire, our imagination will give birth to new needs and wants to drive us forward. Any beings advanced in their actualization to the point of transcending all desires is an experience so foreign to humanity that they would likely be indistinguishable from gods. Therefore, we must embrace desire as a permanent fixture of our being and explore how we channel it into a positive force within the human experience. 

Our embrace of the relational universe is as much a perspective of radical empathy as it is a heightened sense of awareness of our circumstances. Buddhists are correct in acknowledging the relationship between desire and suffering. The misalignment of our expectations with the reality of our moments perpetually frustrates us. This is equally accurate for happenings inside and outside our spheres of control. Confronting the crisis of doubt, desire, and death may only ever be a temporary quest, one that has many beginnings and endings but is never complete. Do not begin your journey toward transcendence with the false hopes of overcoming that which defines being human.  

Our struggles with desire also manifest in our relationships with others. We inhabit inward empires in our personal time experiences, an isolated self that is one among many. As individuals, we can never genuinely access others, no matter the length and maturity of our relationships. A remoteness imbued with otherness denies us the depths of connection we desire. The individual’s desire to be loved is infinite, but their capacity to love is finite. So, we always find ourselves in a permanent state of impermanence that conflicts with our ability to overcome ourselves.

The crisis surrounding desire is not that we experience it, but that the organization of our societies actively exploits it. By prioritizing transaction as the primary form of engagement with others, we have opened a Pandora’s box of manipulation that preys on our basic instincts and maintains a narrative that there are no alternatives, conditioning generations into an ethos prioritizing the fulfillment of desire through material goods. Within time experiences of material scarcity, these belief sets naturally trended toward exclusivity and otherness. Large sections of humanity correlate individual value with a material surplus. In other words, we feel terrible when we’re out of work or lacking resources. The struggle for survival is a creeping death that many track using numbers on their banking app. Whether or not there have been valuable aspects of these belief systems to date is irrelevant to our exploration. In our immediate present, it is clear that they are encouraging the behaviors driving us toward crisis; therefore, we need to focus on developing our powers to redirect the trajectory of our journeys. All forms of organization promote specific beliefs and values within the individual inhabiting them. In an informational universe, everything influences everything else. When the values spread through public systems no longer meet the needs of the moment, they must evolve. Maintaining the status quo is a choice to continue marching into an oblivion of our own making.

Consider the present systems surrounding education, work, and our conduct in life. The exploitation of our desires typically centers around the worship of power. We are taught that a greater life lies within our quest for power. Accumulation is the primary objective. Knowledge, position, wealth, affection, and more are framed as contests where individuals must prove themselves worthy. If we were considering the worship of power in a vacuum, we might argue that it is not all bad; the drive to improve one’s own circumstances is a positive trait of humanity. This may be accurate for specific circumstances. However, when considered through the lens of the immediate present, we can observe countless instances of power worship mutating into the domination of others. 

The most perverse form of power worship is displayed through the denial of the roles that doubt, desire, and death play in shaping society. Consider the legal organization of society that enforces laws at varying degrees and intensity based on economic class. Our worship of power shapes what we consider acceptable and unacceptable injustice, placing the humanity of some on a pedestal far beyond others. The changing nature of time impacts everything, including the core struggles of the human experience. When the systems surrounding the individual promote the denial of these challenges through the retention of a status quo, our individual and collective progress toward self-actualization is corrupted.

Death has long been a fear of the living. For most of human history, physical death carried a significant risk of extreme pain. Take, for example, violence from animal and human predators, agonizing and inexplicable diseases, and injuries that progressively worsened due to a lack of medical knowledge and technology. These scenarios and many more have imprinted a primal fear within us that haunts our expiration. Today those with means can extend life well beyond what would have been their organic expiration, yet they remain unable to escape death. Perplexingly, our manipulation of death does nothing to redefine our purpose in living. Is the extension of life a worthy undertaking when so much of our experience slowly diminishes our humanity? 

Competition is the defining approach toward human progress within the immediate present. The systems that frame learning and productivity set expectations of a universe where others are our adversaries. While progress takes many forms, it is no coincidence that those in positions of great power often view people and other groups with contempt, as others to be overcome in a quest for greater personal glory. Although each individual carries unique burdens of diminishment, many share the experience of living a life full of small deaths through our daily interactions with the world. Sometimes these moments are in our control; other times they are not. It is a distinction less clear-cut than we would prefer. Within frameworks of progress rooting competition, the small death of others is often considered part of standard operations. Maybe in moments long past this was a necessary way of framing our interactions. Resources were scarce, and the technology to manipulate them was rudimentary. But in an age of untapped abundance, it is a failure of imagination that harms us all.

These struggles of power perpetuate through a narrative of maturing into adulthood. We are taught that work is not supposed to be pleasant. We learn to accept the erosion of our capacity through a slow death as a natural and necessary part of life. We’ve made great strides toward advancing the complexity of our work, but it’s questionable how much of it can be defined as meaningful. For many, there is no alternative option but to embrace this narrative because their survival directly intertwines with their ability to produce. Now in a time of radical interconnectedness, we confront the reality that stability and survival can never be adequate rewards for the decimation of our spirit.

Combating the slow death inherent in present-day experience requires freeing ourselves from productive repetition outside of our creative pursuits. Repetition can take many forms, but the most relatable is types of work: occupations where productive activity is limited to the repetition of a highly specialized task, like working on an assembly line or in data entry. Repetitive work diminishes us for several reasons. First, it quickly becomes mindless, and over time it dulls the individual performing it. For the majority of our population, survival needs override our desire to reject the erosion of mind, body, and spirit associated with performing machine-like tasks. Second, these occupations are not stable. Jobs requiring low knowledge specialization pay poorly, are highly competitive, and are most often automated, ensuring that employers view the individual as a disposable commodity. More complex examples of repetitive work share the everyday struggle of the looming specter of automation that will eventually replace anything repeatable. The crisis surrounding interpersonal deaths within our occupations is that redirection is possible, but the majority lack the necessary access and agency to transition.

Exploring the crisis of death highlights our disconnection from the relational universe. Birth and death are not separate events. They are a single happening within an individual event chain. It is natural to celebrate a beginning and mourn an end, but the opposite is also valid. Death is a bitter pill for many because as we draw closer to the inevitable and question ourselves and our paths on this journey. The present-day dominant spiritual technologies reinforce a belief that human divinity exists only beyond death. Spiritual salvation through the ascension into heaven is just a complex form of worshiping death. We are told we are visitors, destined to be judged based on the character of our journeys. This framing of divinity ignores the single truth and the relational universe.

Self-actualization in the age of crisis requires us to think beyond the binary, embracing the power within our moments to redefine life as a method of conquering death. If we consider our interactions with others and the world around us from the perspective of an informational universe, we can observe how everything impacts everything. Every individual time experience is infinite in its potential within the moment and well beyond. Consider how many alternatives exist in our relationships with each other. Saying and doing certain things instead of others always sets into motion specific event chains that cascade well into the future and can never be undone. Each momentary choice breathes life to new realities for the individual and collective, an infinite flow of information carving through space like a fungal network searching for food. Denying life’s continuity beyond death is a form of willful imprisonment, an active limitation of the individual and the radical destiny they have yet to express.

Overcoming the influence of dogmas is a significant challenge we must embrace in order to self-actualize in the age of crisis. A dogma is an unchallengeable understanding to the person embracing it but an obvious falsehood in a universe of perpetual change. 

Dogma can take many forms. They can be scientific, political, historical, or most commonly religious. To believe that any idea is beyond improvement is incorrect, but it is woven deeply into our personas and systems. Critiques of dogmatic beliefs are often met with fierce rebuttal because for individuals subscribing to them, they are more than just ideas; they are identities. Believing anything to be beyond change contradicts all knowledge of our universe. That dogma exists is a crisis because it is unnatural, yet it still thrives. All dogmas must be overcome and rejected in their entirety because a self-actualizing society recognizes them for what they are: means of manipulation to dominate a population. Convincing an individual that a belief is so radically important that it should override all others is a direct path to extreme power concentration that typically benefits a small minority. Dogmas perpetuate the crisis of doubt, desire, and death by actively programming our minds to embrace narratives that are neither accurate nor definitive. Nowhere is this more apparent in the present day than our clinging to outdated spiritual technologies.

Our obsession with death is understandable given the seemingly infinite unknowns humanity confronts in every form of time experience we have undergone. It is difficult for every generation to comprehend the past of those who came before because the frameworks for constructing consciousness vary significantly between generations. We all share our being born into a world we had no voice in creating. Our journey begins with a prolonged period of total vulnerability, formative years in our interpersonal and analytic development. For some, it’s a place of encouragement, exploration, and security. For others, it’s a space of fear, aggression, and insecurity—negatives compounded by an institutional infrastructure that provides no means of escape. Humanity is constantly locked in a struggle of trying to make sense of the world with extremely limited information. During some moment in our distant past, we began observing patterns in nature and the stars, and so began our journey into pondering our existence. 

Cults worshiping nature became tribal religions, with gods varying between regions. It was commonly believed that gods coexisted among others by serving specialized functions until the idea of a single supreme creator developed in Zoroastrianism. Judaism, which initially embraced the concept of regional religions, adopted this idea and took it a step further by claiming their god was supreme to all others. Despite differences in contexts, all spiritual technologies share the purpose of reinforcing a specific moral order. Today, the spiritual technologies with the most followers are the monotheistic religions of Christianity and Islam.56 A core tenet of these faiths is the transformation of death from an inevitable unknown into a form of salvation. Framing death as the moment of judgment makes sense in a time experience of relatively slow change and brutish conditions. It is a concept likely created to prevent widespread nihilism in a hostile universe. Today, the idea that paradise and the highest expression of our being lies beyond life is incompatible with our knowledge of the single truth and our oneness with the relational universe. Self-actualizing in the age of crisis requires that we let go of the spiritual artifacts that do not serve us. The idea of ascending into heaven after death is innately hierarchical and similarly legitimizes the organization of society.

Organizing meaning and value around the idea of salvation after death avoids responsibility in the moment. It places the ultimate reward of a life well lived into a future we can never experience. Our inherited time experience crafts the idea of heaven beyond Earth into a dogma that demands we deny death its due. It asks us to ignore the fact that when the individual dies they take nothing of this experience with them. Centuries of aligning our moral codes and actions around these texts have shaped our worldview of what is possible and real. There is a core conflict between the idea that divinity exists only outside of this world and our reality of it being a part of us now. Every moment of awareness is one of immense possibility, to be determined by the direction of our imagination, focus, and energy. We observe the evidence all around us in our exponential universe. Now is the time of creation. When we share experiences with others, we embody imagination, changing the shape of the world together through our interactions and efforts. Positioning nirvana as perpetually out of reach creates a culture of escapism. There is always something better on the horizon, so we never awaken our powers in the present. Self-actualization in the age of crisis recognizes that divinity resides within the moment. Our journey to become more human is one of becoming more godlike. To do this, we must reject the old prophecies of salvation after death in favor of fully expressing our divinity within the moment. 

Overcoming death in the age of crisis is the process of confronting it as the inevitability it is. The practice of self-actualization provides no answers to death because none are needed. Death is death. By embracing our end as a continuation of our beginning, we dismiss the dogmas surrounding salvation after death. In doing so, we give immense power to our present time experience—to life. We reject the feel-good narratives of why a miserable life under the thumb of oppressive people and circumstances will ultimately lead to paradise. Self-actualization in the age of crisis is our shared journey in the creation of a new salvation mantra, one that recognizes every human being as a source of infinite potential and creativity, transformed by circumstance immediately upon entering the world. To transcend death is to redefine life, to celebrate, encourage, and organize ourselves around the latent potential of every individual. We achieve immortality through our contributions to the world, echoes that reverberate on well after our physical expiration. Those who contribute more toward collective progress extend themselves beyond time. In many ways, it is the same resurrection narrative humanity has embraced throughout its existence, except now we demystify and distill it into an actionable vision.

The quest for immortality of the flesh through scientific means is in many ways a fool’s errand, centered around an individual whose ego has overtaken their sense. We seek to prolong decay, and for what? The changing nature of time ensures that our ever-evolving consciousness will continue to develop new concepts of what it is to be. To this end, those with the means to leverage these age-defining technologies seek to hold onto a power they cannot possibly possess. At a certain point, this individual becomes a burden on society, refusing with all their might to allow ancient visions of the good to die and give space for new ones to flourish. Our focus on giving more power to life redefines individual value and capacity. We embraced divinity for what we know it to be: the alignment of the internal and external infinities within the moment. Leveraging this foundation, we develop new sets of practices and systems to guide our individual and collective journeys toward transcendence.

A major obstacle in achieving systemic actualization is that our dogmas surrounding death and salvation bleed into many other facets of our lives. All religions give us the frameworks for defining who we are, what we can become, and our place in the world. Salvation religions define the individual as less than God, less than pure, and subjected to a place in the world beneath true peace and happiness. They reinforce these frameworks by embedding indomitable faith as a core aspect of the philosophy. Perhaps most offensively, salvation religions empower insiders to create narratives of what God is and is not, an absolute falsehood fashioned purely for power maintenance and an extreme expression of individual ego that disregards our shared oneness with the relational universe. Hierarchy worship is embedded into these spiritual technologies that encourage subservience in different directions and permeate the institutional arrangements of our immediate present. The idea of submission to a divine being as favorable to the individual naturalizes absolving personal power. Historical religions have long provided a foundation for the exclusion and dominion of others as right and just. In this, the monotheistic religions could just as easily be classified as political technologies, often working together with other established regimes to solidify power without regard for human life. The popular monotheistic faiths encourage absolutism in beliefs that trickles into all aspects of being. This type of subservience starkly contrasts with the vision of humanity inspired by the single truth. It encourages a form of individual and collective being inadequate to transcend the age of crisis. Our efforts turn toward creating a new spiritual philosophy that enhances the individual instead of belittling them.

The salvation religions have long conflicted with our scientific knowledge, but now in the light of the single truth we understand their shared imaginings of creation to be false. From a universal perspective, there is no beginning or end. We exist within an infinite continuum of universes. If such a physical infinite could ever begin, it is so far beyond our comprehension and measurement that there is no reason to even consider it. Inconsistencies with our collective knowledge such as this further solidify why these spiritual philosophies offer no alternative to crisis. We cannot overcome the systems and people that dominate our being if we worship the same things as they do. 

To reject death in favor of life is no small task, but the rewards are significant. I share this from the unique personal perspective of someone who was resurrected by modern medicine early in life. When I was twenty-two, I contracted a severe case of bacterial meningitis, an infection that causes rapid swelling around the brain and spinal cord. Within twenty-four hours, I went from feeling completely normal to being quarantined in a hospital room. The white blood cells fighting the infection in my spine were over one hundred times their standard quantity, and I was told that my spinal fluid was “thick” because of it. 

My parents were told that the prospects of survival were grim, and even if I did survive, I would most likely be left with permanent disabilities. While I don’t remember much of the first week, I vaguely recall that the pain generated by the pressure on my brain was excruciating. After four more weeks in the hospital and months of physical therapy, I went on to make a full recovery. In any other time experience I would be dead, but the collective progress of humanity extended life where death had staked its claim. As you might imagine, such an intimate encounter with death at a young age forever changed my perspective on life. To know death intimately is a disturbing but ultimately freeing experience, one that unbinds the individual from the illusions of security we believe we possess. It is possible to know this freedom without being subjected to a near-death experience, but only if we choose to frame our understanding of it around what it is instead of what we want it to be.

The crisis of doubt, desire, and death is spiritual in nature because it forces us to confront the failure of historical religions to address our struggles with these aspects of humanity within the immediate present. Like all technologies, religions bear a timestamp of their creation that they persistently project unto the world. As the human time experience progresses, these spiritual philosophies attempt to shape the individual to be something completely out of context with the immediate present. Today, most practitioners of traditional religions pick and choose which dogmas to embrace. It’s a hypocritical yet understandable approach, given how deeply their source texts conflict with the nature of our reality. We overcome this by developing an alternative spiritual philosophy that practitioners can embrace to its fullest extent without shame or ambivalence to the values they are asked to embody, one that embodies change at its core, recognizes itself as a creation, and facilitates its own evolution when necessary.

The single truth and the relational universe provide a framework of spirituality that recognizes the powers inherent in all. By abolishing hierarchies of divinity, we remove the possibility of weaponizing spirituality as is so common today. When we focus our intents and efforts on maximizing the individual's potential, we empower expansive freedom. We enjoy time experiences that encourage experimentation and invention, spaces of creativity where an individual connects with the divinity of the moment through the direction of their focus and energy. When we base our spiritual philosophies on the principles of our experimental potential, we negate the legitimacy of righteousness and any attempts to force specific lifestyles onto others in the name of the divine.

Perhaps the greatest struggle with doubt, desire, and death is our denial of the three. Dogmas of faiths developed over millennia make it convenient to turn a blind eye to apparent inadequacies within the present. Now we face choices similar to those humanity has answered in our past. Do we possess the courage to choose transcendence in the face of the age of crisis, or will we continue our march into oblivion? In embracing the divinity of the moment, we reject the power of doubt, desire, and death over our time experience. If we consider the possibility of a supreme intelligence, we do so only within the context of our knowledge within the immediate present. The most likely and logical conclusion is that if there is an omniscient divine creator it is not beyond us, it is within us, the embodied infinity of imagination in alignment with the single truth of perpetual change. We are it, and whatever powers such a being might possess will be within our grasp in the future. 

We can transcend our dogmas but may always be subject to doubt, desire, and death. Our objective is not to eliminate these aspects of our humanity but to reimagine and reshape how individuals grapple with them. We accomplish this through the organization of our legal, economic, and social systems alongside our personal practice. The crisis of doubt, desire, and death represents a diminishment of the human spirit that we have undergone for so long that we mistake it for fate. It is not. In many ways, our pursuit of alignment with the single truth is a reinterpretation of the resurrection themes popular in a wide variety of past mythos. We embrace transcendent rebirth in the form of developing the capacity to surpass all known limitations. Our individual and shared rebirth defies death. With the force of mythological deities past, we become what we once worshiped. - Crisis of Doubt, Desire, Death, and Dogmas
Next Section:
Points of Reflection for Chapter 1
Next ➤