How I Got Lost Between Descartes and Demon Slayer
The Pointless struggle!
There are days when life just gets denser and denser—like an endless philosophical soup—and I don’t know what I’m doing. Totally aimless, totally meaningless. Modern philosophy keeps circling around the same question: what is the point of being human? Descartes, Spinoza, Leibniz—all of them trying their best to turn God into something finite and infinite at the same time, handing out attributes to nature like confetti at a wedding. And here I am today: empty, non-existent, trying to find purpose in this philosophical circus.
Every day, we all try to survive, to give meaning to our existence, to choose between good and evil like contestants on a cosmic reality show. We have the freedom to choose, but then we also question the freedom of God. In this quest for philosophy, I often feel trapped and caged, asking myself: Was I meant for this? What is my purpose?
The more I wrestle with philosophers about existence, essence, modes of thought, and the extension of our being, the more transparent I feel. Slowly, I’ve learned that nothing can change unless it’s in its nature to change—and maybe that includes me. Yet Leibniz whispers that knowledge can be acquired by reason and experience alone, and Spinoza whispers back about the existence of the world and the eternal truths. Each day we’re called to change ourselves, to live in flux, to become better—bit by bit—so that the collective also changes.
Spinoza’s determinism fascinates me: we are actions of causes, and those causes change us. But in that determinism comes choice—and with choice comes evil, subjective and slippery.
Jesuits, Work, and the Higher Call
If I personalize this to myself as a Jesuit (and I know I’m at the lowest rung of the ladder), I believe we’re called for higher jobs—not just busywork anyone can do. We hold on to tasks that don’t belong to us, and in the process, we burn out. We’re meant to reach higher states of consciousness, awareness, intelligence, flexibility, and universality—to actually help humanity in this ever-changing world. I desire this, but I’m far from it.
Our internal exhaustion slows our external transformation of society. We don’t trust our own people enough to delegate, which keeps us stuck. Like Leibniz’s vision of polyglots, we Jesuits are called to be multi-lingual, multi-dimensional, or we’ll never end the war we’re in. And no, don’t tell me to wait for the Second Coming—this needs to end now.
Pope Francis says hope doesn’t disappoint, but hope isn’t eternal if we’re not changing. We have to realize our act and potency, to be real beings and not illusions. Everyone has a past, but we need to be born again into a selfless state, where our nature—not our emotions—drives us.
Dalits, Yoga, and Warriors for Truth
Look at the Dalits. They’re striving but remain stuck because the system traps them. Like in yoga, reaching kaivalya requires letting go of pleasure, but we’re still clutching at it. Sikhism too shows how ideologies can be reshaped when they go stale. Yet the world will still come at us, which means we need warriors—alert, always moving, teaching, and rising beyond societal systems to stand firm for truth.
Our history is full of such warriors, though we often fail to understand their true lessons. We need to connect the threads between dualism, monism, polytheism—to weave a collective understanding of reality and define the present. Simply “living in the present” won’t bear fruit unless we dive deeper.
Ethics, Epistemology, and the Irony of Breaking Rules
Every philosophy aims to liberate and understand itself. But have we understood ourselves? Ethics, epistemology, metaphysics—all of these systems examine different dimensions of our world and ourselves.
In a friendly chat with my companion, we admitted: yes, we break rules in our religious lives. We do it not to rebel but to think higher, to free our minds. Ironically, we do this for our internal system, not the external society that actually needs the breakage. Generosity is key. I want to be that open, but society’s systems limit me. The day is coming soon when I’ll break this cage, and when I do, I won’t stop.
Even in these aimless, empty days, I still desire to reach a higher, imaginary state. Every day feels like a waste, yet I struggle on. Maybe I’m not worthy anymore. Maybe this is all a dream or a goal to be held tight each second.
Demon Slayer, Babyhood, and the Strong Protecting the Weak
In the anime Demon Slayer, the hero has a worldview: the strong protect the weak, the weak grow stronger, and then protect the weak. We’re never strong forever. As babies, we were weak, utterly dependent. Maybe that’s the essence of being human—constant cycles of weakness, strength, and responsibility.
Final Thoughts
So here I am, stuck between Descartes and Demon Slayer, oscillating between metaphysics and anime, feeling both empty and hopeful. Maybe every philosopher’s personal reflection is both a dream and a goal. Maybe the struggle itself is the point.
What do you all say? Is this philosophical spiral just my private existential gym, or is it the path we’re all running together?
— Student of Philosophy – Rohan Brahmane SJ
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