Now Reading: Nihilism: How to Find Purpose in a Philosophy That Claims There Is None
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Nihilism: How to Find Purpose in a Philosophy That Claims There Is None
Nihilism: How to Find Purpose in a Philosophy That Claims There Is None
What’s the easiest way to get rid of all your problems in life? Exactly! Just claim they don’t exist! It might sound kinda silly, but in my experience, this is often how people translate the philosophy of nihilism (from the Latin nihil, meaning “nothing”) to real life. But is that really the best takeaway to have from this train of thought? Or is there actually something more meaningful to be found in the meaningless?
Nothing Else Matters
I’ve met many people who use nihilism to cope with challenges by simply claiming it all doesn’t matter. And to be fair, I think this is a very human thing to do — a way of protecting ourselves, even though we’re definitely lying to ourselves just to feel better. And to take away any notion of me fancying myself some proper philosopher who’s above that: I’m definitely not. I, too, have spent hours trying to convince people I didn’t care about something shitty happening to me, by claiming that in the grand scheme of things it’s nothing and that we’ll all be dead soon anyway. But if I didn’t care, why did I spend hours discussing it? See?
I’m not saying that shielding yourself from pain by putting things in perspective is a bad thing. On the contrary, I’m a big believer in the Stoic principle that things themselves aren’t inherently bad or good — your judgment about them makes them so. But I think there’s a big difference between taking something bad and turning it into something positive, or being nihilistic and turning it into nothing. Because if it’s nothing, then what’s the point? If there’s no point, then why bother?
So is nihilism useless? Not at all! Some of the greatest philosophers were driven by the impending nothingness they found. They stared into the abyss and didn’t just survive — they wrote philosophy about it. Each one wrestled with the void in their own way: some diagnosed it, some embraced it, and others tried to build something new from its ruins. So let’s dive into some takes on how to deal with nothing. Starting with the god-killer himself.
From Nothing to Something
When Nietzsche declared that “God is dead,” he wasn’t trying to be edgy for the sake of it. He was diagnosing a cultural sickness — the collapse of old systems of meaning that had kept people going for centuries. With religion and traditional morality fading, he believed we’d all be left in a kind of spiritual free fall. And he was right. But Nietzsche didn’t want us to stay in that fall. He wanted us to land, look around, and start rebuilding.
He didn’t preach nihilism — he saw it as something you have to face and push through. A fire you walk through, not sit down in. Once the old values are gone, you get to (have to) create your own. That’s scary, but also kinda exhilarating.
I’ve definitely caught myself clinging to old beliefs or habits just because they gave me comfort — not because they actually made sense anymore. Nietzsche would probably roll his eyes at that. But he’d also tell me to take responsibility, stop whining, and get to work on crafting a personal code that actually affirms life. Not just surviving, but thriving.
Life Hurts, but Music Helps
If Nietzsche is the fiery motivator, Schopenhauer is a cold shower. This guy didn’t pull punches. He basically said life is suffering — not because we’re doing something wrong, but because that’s just how existence works. According to him, everything we do is driven by this blind, irrational force (he called it the Will) that just wants and wants and wants. And even when we get what we want? We’re bored again in five minutes.
Sounds depressing, right? And yeah, it kinda is. But strangely, Schopenhauer doesn’t come off as hopeless. He thought there were ways to cope with this existential treadmill: through compassion, through beauty, through letting go.
He found relief in art and music — things that, even for a moment, help us transcend that endless cycle of wanting. And he believed deeply in empathy. Recognizing that we all suffer softens you. It makes you less selfish. It makes you a bit kinder, maybe.
The Void Is Yours to Fill
Where others saw a lack of meaning and froze, Sartre saw freedom. He agreed that life has no built-in purpose, no grand script — but for him, that wasn’t depressing. It was liberating. Because if nothing is written, then you get to write it.
Of course, with freedom comes anxiety. There’s no cosmic fallback plan. But Sartre argued that we’re “condemned to be free” — and that’s not a bad thing. It means your identity isn’t a fixed thing to be uncovered like some lost artifact. It’s something you create, choice by choice, action by action. He called this radical responsibility.
But don’t confuse this with some #yolo slogan. Sartre didn’t sugarcoat the responsibility that comes with freedom. He hated when people lived in “bad faith” — pretending they didn’t have choices, blaming society, parents, jobs, fate. To him, that’s just hiding. Like putting on a mask so you don’t have to face the fear of actually being someone.
So, is there something to all the nothing?
I hope that by now you agree with me that there is. From Nietzsche’s call to create meaning, to Schopenhauer’s quiet surrender to beauty, to Sartre’s radical freedom — each one shows that in the absence of meaning, we’re not lost. We’re invited.
I felt that recently, when someone special shared a song while we were talking about nothingness. It wasn’t about answers or advice — just a reminder that in the absence of expectation, there’s room for everything. Joy and sorrow, clarity and confusion, all held together. That’s the power of music. It doesn’t explain the nothingness, or erase it, but it gives you a way to sit with it. And just for a moment, be okay with it.
So, since we’re here — it only feels right to share that song with you too.
