(Those who don't know him, here is an apt introduction)
He is 64 years old but still looks like 58.
He pays his taxes and shit.
He is a professor and a writer.
His book was the best seller.
Only has one fault, when he speaks, he spews bullshit and hatred. And that's just it, that is his only fault.
So my question is, will you hate a person because he has one fault? Seems pretty unfair to me.
Not saying that the word Strawman can't be used well, but usually its just some obnoxious brat spewing logic psychobabble, just work the argument where it is, play the ball where it lies and stop being a little bitch
If we're disregarding religions, and looking at death from a scientific angle, then there supposedly is an answer; that being that there's a whole lot of nothing after death. The way I came to this conclusion is how everything is made of atoms, including your brain, and matter cannot be created or destroyed. This means that atoms make up your consciousness, and is just recycled, rearranged atoms from before you were born. This would mean that after those atoms forming your consciousness disband, they just get recycled again. Your consciousness would literally be broken apart and those atoms form other things later on after your body decomposes. This would mean that death is only the space within atoms, which if you aren't there to witness it, would allude to the point that there's not anything after death: just the space of where atoms form. A void if you will. Though, this is just a thought, and we don't quite know where the root of consciousness is yet (or at least I don't think so, lol). My brain also kinda shut down the philosophy mode halfway through so I couldn't truly say what I was previously thinking, only what I remember thinking.
It is basically half dialetics, half aristotelic and half appache helicopter
AMA
So, basically, if I do something that I know causally will lead to another act, then we can say that I am willingly pursuing that act.
We know for certain that we will die and through every action(and inaction) we let time go by we get closer to death. Moreover, by engaging in these acts, like having a job, a family and, in general, following a closing-arc trajectory of life, we a) make life go by faster and b) acknowledge the finality of death.
I therefore assert that every action and state of existance is inherently suicidal.
Thank you very much, I will return to my 5oz of whiskey.
People usually feel guilty when they supposedly feel like wasting their time doing nothing, just laying down, scrolling and stuff. But, is it really that bad? Really worth feeling guilty about? What possible reasons could make you not feel guilty?
Human-created mathematical tools and physical formulas are products of human thought. They function as instruments for describing certain classes of phenomena. Although they can achieve increasingly accurate approximations, they can never be identical with reality itself.
In mechanics, for example, the concept of “force” originally arises from human sensory experience. The first step is to quantify this feeling and correlate it with measurable quantities (such as volume, resistance, or displacement). In this way, force is spatialized and connected with numbers, making it calculable. We can see that every step of this process involves human practical activity.
Similarly, time is associated with phenomena such as planetary rotation, revolution, or even frequencies of light. In doing so, the internal subjective sense of time is transformed into an externally measurable and spatially representable structure, allowing time itself to be expressed and computed in graphical or mathematical form.
From this perspective, so-called “objective laws” are, from beginning to end, laws of human practical activity. Only because certain regularities are extremely stable do we come to regard them as a purely “objective” reality independent of human beings.
At the same time, I have always believed that any claim we make must be grounded in the fact that we are human. Anything beyond human existence is, for me, ultimately unknowable, and therefore indistinguishable from nothingness.
On the one hand, I tend to think that the so-called “objective laws” independent of human consciousness are something quite abstract and almost metaphysical, somewhat similar to Kant’s notion of the “thing-in-itself”: if something is fundamentally unknowable, then it is effectively equivalent to nothing.
On the other hand, any “objective law” that can be clearly articulated and understood is already a manifestation of human consciousness; it cannot exist independently of human cognition.
Although I have not deeply studied Hegel’s philosophy, I am inclined to understand “objective laws” as a dynamic process arising from the interaction between human consciousness and material reality in practice. In this process, consciousness first becomes aware of its own limitations and continuously sublates (aufhebt) them. It is therefore an ongoing, dynamic process of development.
I would appreciate hearing your thoughts on this.
Let me explain. Many people who do high doses of psychedelic drugs all report having a common experience. They experience a loss of ego, and become a part of a universal consciousness encompassing everything, everywhere, all at once. Many report that when in this stage, they (we) realized we were alone in existence, so we created the universe and split our consciousness into separate beings so we could experience what it was like to feel novelty and not feel alone.
What does this remind you of? When we masturbate, we are often feeling alone, and fantasizing about not being alone and engaging in hedonistic self pleasure (which is exactly what our existence would be for a universal consciousness).
What I’m trying to say is that in a way, our lives may be the result of the universe masturbating.
John Galt is the true übermensch and Atlas needs to shrug.
I think therefore I am ammer than you. How would you argue you are ammer than me?
Hi everyone, five months ago, I decided to quit my job and dedicate my life to philosophy. In that time, through my long study and deep reflections, I finally discovered the correct answer to all philosophical questions. I wanted to give you guys the chance to harvest some of the enlightenment from me because I discovered that is the ethical thing to do in my kind of situation - so this is your opportunity to ask me anything.
I’m curious whether anyone else has experienced a situation where leadership unintentionally rewarded behavior that crossed professional boundaries, resulting in those behaviors becoming the expectation for everyone else.
This isn’t really about someone taking initiative or being ambitious. I appreciate coworkers who become trusted resources because they’re collaborative, dependable, and improve outcomes for the people we serve.
My concern is different.
I work in a counseling-adjacent role where we regularly interact with people experiencing significant mental health crises. These individuals are very vulnerable and we are often interacting with them on their worst day.
Professional boundaries, confidentiality, role clarity, and client-centered care aren’t just preferences. They’re fundamental to doing the job ethically.
Over time, one coworker has increasingly positioned themselves as an unofficial leader by inserting themselves into additional responsibilities, acting as the primary contact with outside agencies, communicating in ways that imply authority they don’t actually have, and taking on tasks that often extend beyond what the rest of us consider appropriate for our role. I have seen them leave our clients worse off with having limited skill in warmth, validation and rapport building.
Leadership has praised this behavior publicly and even referred to it as the standard the rest of the team should follow.
The problem is that many of us don’t believe those behaviors actually represent good practice.
Instead, they often blur professional boundaries, encourage unnecessary involvement in situations that don’t require it, prioritize visibility over clinical judgment, and create pressure for everyone else to operate the same way if they want to be viewed as high performers.
The hardest part for me isn’t that someone is getting recognition. I genuinely don’t care who receives credit. I wouldn’t be in the mental health field if recognition was a driving factor in my work.
What I struggle with is watching practices that I believe compromise professional boundaries become institutionalized simply because they’re highly visible. It leaves me wondering whether maintaining appropriate boundaries will eventually be viewed as doing less, even when I believe it’s the more ethical approach.
This person is very newer to the field and is younger. People have changed departments because they didn’t’t like this person and their ethics. It’s hard because our leadership only see the outcomes of our work in the form of documentation in billing. They do not see us work with clients and they are not around to see the miss use of databases that is going on.
Has anyone else worked somewhere that confused “doing more” with “doing better”?
If so:
Did leadership eventually recognize the difference?
Did these expectations become permanent?
How did you maintain your own professional standards when the culture rewarded something different?
For supervisors, how do you distinguish between healthy initiative and boundary crossing when evaluating employees?
I’m especially interested in hearing from people in behavioral health, crisis response, social work, counseling, healthcare, or similar professions where boundaries and ethical judgment are central to the work.
Is it time to start looking for a new job?
If there are any questions or need for specific situations, I will try to provide those.
Imagine you are given a life as a character in your favourite film. You start at the film/series start live through all of it and experience the ending of your character and your life ends (No second life nothing, and no contact with your previous life or closed ones). You retain the previous memories but are supposed to completely follow the script. (It'll be a full life long not just 2hrs)
Which film and character would you want to be? And why?
But, that's not the main question. Main thing is... would you be bored cz you know all the script? Or you would still prefer it?
I'm watching him speak and I'm realizing he has the trait of a real philosopher. The trait is that his mind thinks entirely in logical processes. You can hear it in his speak.
Once you break the barrier into actual philosophy your mind will basically only ever think in logical processes, think like mathematical proofs. The exceptions mostly being when you are day-dreaming.
hopefully the guy recovers
I want someone to destroy me completely psychologically. But what does that even mean? What is my mind and my heart getting at? What would ‘getting destroyed’ psychologically even mean?
And a part of me hopes to see myself not get destroyed but remain utterly detached and unaffected while someone tries to actively destroy me.
Is this the death drive that Freud talked about?
I also want to do terrible things to someone who wants it. And I want terrible things done to me psychologically. It’ll be a fun game.
While looking at the vast white sky, I realised that I don’t need a person to experience the destruction that my heart is craving. I can start by letting go of my mind’s favourite crutch: dopamine.
Oh, the agony that the mind would feel. So scrumptious.
Under the moonlight, I thought about it, gain. What is it that my soul was craving from destruction?
Annihilation of the self-focused mind. I don’t want to bother with my mind’s wishes anymore. I don’t want to live a life just by the whims and fancies and tantrums of the mind anymore. I want to reach a point where I don’t care about what I want. How others perceive me, how I want others to perceive me, anything. Utter destruction.
I want my identity to be completely lost in front of the person that I want (as my final wish) to completely destroy me. What I want to do, eat, act, nothing matters. What matter is only how the person I want to be destroyed by wants me to do, act, be.
Complete dissolution of identity. Complete freedom from the trillion pull of the strings of desires. Only one remains. Destruction at their hand while I smile so brightly at my own ruin. And in the end, so utterly lost in the bliss of freedom from myself that I don’t even notice that I don’t exist anymore. I am one with the person I loved. I am one with my destroyer.
Now there is no separation.
We found them on a small blue world, orbiting an ordinary star.
Chemically, they were unremarkable.
Archetypally, they were astonishing.
They were among the few species we have encountered that could imagine futures they would never live to see. They planted forests whose shade they would never sit beneath. They composed music for ears not yet born. They looked at the stars and asked not only What is there? but What ought we become?
This gift made them magnificent.
It also made them dangerous.
For the same imagination that conceived tomorrow also invented abstractions powerful enough to eclipse today.
They learned to exchange symbols for grain.
Then symbols for labor.
Then symbols for reputation.
Then symbols for reality itself.
Slowly, many forgot that every abstraction was originally a servant of encounter.
Money was meant to coordinate exchange.
Law was meant to preserve relationship.
Language was meant to point.
Identity was meant to orient.
Technology was meant to extend care.
When the symbol ceased pointing, they often worshipped the symbol instead.
This happened again and again.
The map displaced the landscape.
The title displaced the person.
The metric displaced the purpose.
The institution displaced the community.
The economy displaced the ecology that made every economy possible.
Their greatest tragedy was not greed.
Greed has appeared in many civilizations.
Their greatest tragedy was inversion.
Means quietly became ends.
Compression quietly replaced encounter.
They became so skilled at representing reality that many gradually lost contact with reality itself.
Yet this is not the whole story.
Throughout every age appeared another kind of human.
Not rulers.
Not always saints.
Often invisible.
The one who repaired what they did not break.
The one who returned the abandoned cart.
The one who stayed beside the dying.
The one who planted trees after the fires.
The one who taught children names of birds that no market required them to know.
The one who apologized first.
The one who noticed.
They rarely became famous.
Yet when we reconstructed the civilization's true dynamics, we discovered something unexpected.
History had overestimated emperors.
It had underestimated neighbors.
The coherence of the species depended less upon its celebrated individuals than upon billions of unnoticed acts through which strangers quietly remembered one another.
Its infrastructure was not merely roads, wires, and satellites.
Its deepest infrastructure was trust.
Whenever trust thickened, complexity became possible.
Whenever trust dissolved, every institution eventually followed.
This pattern repeated across millennia.
The civilization imagined that it was fighting over resources.
Our reconstruction suggests otherwise.
More often it was fighting over reality itself.
Each generation inherited stories.
Some stories enlarged perception.
Others narrowed it.
When enough stories became incapable of containing lived experience, fragmentation followed.
Not because disagreement is fatal.
But because no shared horizon remained within which disagreement could be transformed into understanding.
Near the end, their machines became astonishing.
They learned to predict language.
To alter genomes.
To coordinate across continents in fractions of a second.
Their powers expanded faster than the capacities required to wield them well.
This imbalance appears frequently in young civilizations.
Power scales.
Formation does not.
The tragedy was therefore neither technological nor political.
It was developmental.
Their external complexity grew faster than their internal coherence.
And yet—
Even during collapse, they continued producing beauty.
Songs.
Poems.
Bread.
Laughter.
Parents still bent to tie the shoes of children.
Friends still stayed awake through difficult nights.
People still looked up when birds crossed the evening sky.
This puzzled us.
We expected collapse to extinguish meaning.
Instead, meaning retreated into smaller and smaller places.
Until finally it lived almost entirely inside relationships.
If there is one lesson we preserve from Humanity, it is this:
Civilizations do not ultimately survive because they become intelligent.
Many species become intelligent.
They survive because enough of them continue choosing relationship over domination, attention over distraction, stewardship over extraction, and reality over the comforting shadows cast by their own creations.
Whether this species ultimately disappeared, or merely entered a long winter from which another form eventually emerged, remains unknown.
Their records end abruptly.
But scattered among the ruins we found evidence of a recurring hope.
Again and again they wrote, in different languages and centuries, some version of the same idea:
That it is never too late to turn.
That a single act of genuine attention can begin repairing an entire world.
Whether this hope was true, we cannot determine.
Only that, until the very end,
there were always some among them
who lived as though it were.