Part 4 — Valhalla in flames
Operas often conclude on a tragic note, but leave it to Richard Wagner to burn his entire Ring Cycle to the ground. Valhalla’s conflagration at the close of “Götterdämmerung” marks an existential pivot: a shattering turn from the illusion of divine stability to the raw flux of becoming and ceaseless change. In this destruction of the old order, space emerges for the new to rise from the ashes.
Ernst Jünger charts this passage as a plunge into the depths of nihilism, which often manifests as rigid order (its favored terrain) though the pit may also open up through depersonalization or other fractures. By pushing idolatry to its extreme, you can burn through to the opposite pole, unveiling the fiery essence of the universe itself. But must this transition always leap from one extreme directly to the other, as in the Tao’s yin-yang polar dot dance, or could it flow from earth into an element more amenable to both life and the truth of flux, like water … instead of exploding into a metaphysical fireball?
Let’s break this shit down.
Memes kindle the cycle of idolatry, yet the very way to free yourself is seeing their nimitta, or signs. (Pali terms.) These cultural self-replicators not only enchant our citta (mind) by jacking its dynamic of dependent origination, but they point us to what lies beneath if we’re mindful enough. So on one hand, memes blind us through papañca of citta-nimitta— the mental proliferation that inflates particulars and obscures freedom — while on the other, they intimate the concealed harmony of anicca(impermanence as the logos uniting opposites).
At the Zero Meridian, as Jünger describes it — the maximum point of lethe’s concealment by aletheia’s dazzle of particulars — we find ourselves completely ensnared in papañca’s vortex, sucking in our attention via feelings. This in turn fuels the gravitational compulsions that nourish our “choosing,” triggering kamma-bhava, or being as becoming. We break an idol’s hold on this dynamic “chain” (paṭiccasamuppāda) when we realize a vampire phantom has been arranging our minds to boost its strength through worship.
Crossing this line opens up the world for authentic existence: embracing physis as what I call the “in-itself-as-not-itself,” a harmonization of Sartre’s radical freedom (projecting beyond fate) with Nietzsche’s amor fati(loving fate as the self-embedded horizon of flux). Lethe’s oblivion — the mysterious pole of physis where we forget our worldly idealizations — is an antidote to the muse Mneme, always reminding us of what we’re so attached to.
We see the signs of lethe in aletheia. If we’re unaware, we take them for all that exists and are drawn to their false significance, compelling us to act and create kamma-bhava for the benefit of idols. (Science’s objectivity encourages this “nature” worship.) But if we pay close enough attention to the signs, they unveil the truth about lethe: that it’s not the solid ground of existence. It’s a flickering of flux — an in-itself-as-not-itself bestowing us with the same quality. We find our freedom within a horizon determined by fate, as our intention secretes nothingness to sever the past from the present while kamma conditions future possibilities.
Blasting through the Zero Meridian also ignites a shift from the earth element to our true nature of fire; it’s a sign of will to power’s transition as a polarity from its illusory state of being to becoming. An old forest hermit asks Nietzsche’s Zarathustra the following in this Walter Kaufmann translation: “At that time you carried your ashes to the mountains; would you now carry your fire into the valleys? Do you not fear to be punished as an arsonist?”
“Hell, yeah” to the first question and “lol” to the second. Once Zarathustra begins his descent as the prophet of fire, we see signs of collapse and expansion appear everywhere — from the vMEME spiral (see Part 3 — Wildfire of the Memes) to the cosmos itself … for eternity. Signs of the hidden nature of physis, lethe-nimitta, might also be seen in the repetition of an expanding and contracting universe, or black holes competing for raw material to convert into new realms via Darwinian selection (see Lee Smolin’s fecund universes theory). This helps illuminate the possibility of a will that doesn’t depend on mind — a cosmos hellbent on persisting, striving and overcoming. Will to power is an ever-shifting yet recurrent, affirming flux without the solidity of kamma traps, like what we take for the “truth.”
This vision smacks down the Buddhist strivings to escape the wheel of becoming. You can’t just hop off by ditching your craving like an arahant does — eternal recurrence doesn’t care about your morality. When Buddhists see existence as suffering that must come to an end, it’s the opposite of embracing fate’s everlasting repetition. (But if a monk were to suddenly realize this Sisyphean absurdity … well, that could be one of those Reverse Uno Cards we’re looking for.)
Regardless, Buddhism (like existentialism and Darwinism) is a useful acid against other meme-plexes that feed off our idolatry, dissolving the other gods infesting your mind. Then, like a snake eating its tail, it obliterates both Buddhism and the self-idol in a nihilistic supernova as it transitions from the partial nihilism of other idols to the real deal.
While realizing absolute nihilism through a death cult or state cult could be the catalyst, this is obviously the wrong direction in the most horrible way — a way Heidegger didn’t talk much about (and Ñāṇavīra didn’t live to talk about). However, there’s no getting around Nietzsche’s proclamation: The only way around nihilism is straight through it. All idols burn, including your precious sense of self. Fritz heralds the new era with his book “Götzen-Dämmerung,” “The Twilight of Idols” — a play on Wagner’s opera title.
Keep in mind, there’s no time to waste considering the new idols emerging. Will to power is clearly manifest in artificial intelligence, although tech lacks the aspect of mind we call citta, which includes consciousness, feelings, perceptions and intentions. AI manages to level up in power from just strings of computer code by joining a saṅkhāra with our minds for existential nourishment.
Heidegger would see this as part of an enframing process: AI arranges us in the standing reserve of its power structure, echoing Jünger’s thesis that all forms are dominions subsuming weaker elements (and they don’t stop until something pushes back). We are thus liable to surrender our agency for a false sense of amplified power in this synergy as we crown our AI overlords as the arbiters of ultimate truth like the old gods.
If we can see AI as simply a tool dependent on our will, though, we empower ourselves for real. If we don’t, we’re the tool.
Once papañca quits alluring us so much toward the significance of particular beings, we start to glimpse the Being sustaining them, setting off on our journey into a new realm of meaning. If you cross the line of the Zero Meridian, does this changeover have to be an explosion? (Explore the theme in “The Flame of Heraclitus” serial novel.)
Water is a much better element than fire as a path for our civilization through its present, incomplete nihilism — eroding idols that offer false grounding in the void.
In “Across the Line,” Jünger looked forward to when we let go of all tethers. “The moment in which the line is passed brings a new turning approach of Being, and with this, what is actual begins to shine forth. This will even be visible to dull eyes. New celebrations will follow.”
Find your freedom in the firestorm. Embrace the absurdity and paddle over to Part 5. (Originally shared on X)
Rob Robill 