In the consciousness of the truth he has perceived, man now sees

The words of Friedrich Nietzsche—“In the consciousness of the truth he has perceived, man now sees everywhere only the awfulness or the absurdity of existence and loathing seizes him.”—fall like thunder across the soul, shaking the foundations of comfort and illusion. Here Nietzsche speaks of that dreadful awakening when the veil is torn away and the world, once clothed in meaning, stands naked, grim, and cold before the eyes of man. To awaken to the truth is not always to find peace; oftentimes, it is to discover the abyss. And when the abyss gazes back, the spirit is struck with dread, despair, and sometimes, a profound disgust for the comedy of life.

In ancient times, wise men understood this crisis. The Buddha himself, leaving behind his palace of pleasure, walked among sickness, old age, and death, and in these sights he beheld the awfulness of existence. He was seized by the same loathing Nietzsche describes—the horror of suffering that no crown nor kingdom could shield him from. Yet from that despair, the Buddha forged a path of liberation. Thus, Nietzsche’s vision is not unique, but part of the eternal human struggle: to look directly at reality, to feel the nausea of its futility, and then to wrestle with it until wisdom is born.

This absurdity of existence has appeared in many ages. Think of Leo Tolstoy, who after penning great works of literature and bathing in the praises of the world, was struck with an inner collapse. He looked upon his fame, his fortune, his talents, and found them meaningless in the face of death. He, too, felt loathing seize him, and for a season he contemplated ending his life. Yet from this despair arose a rebirth, a new devotion to spiritual seeking and humble labor. Like the phoenix rising from its ashes, Tolstoy’s despair gave birth to a deeper faith in simplicity, service, and truth.

Nietzsche’s cry is not meant to destroy but to awaken. For the consciousness of truth is a fire that burns illusions. It strips away the lies of comfort, the shallow distractions of pleasure, and the hollow structures of false meaning. What remains is raw existence—terrifying, absurd, and yet, brimming with possibility. For it is only when the soul has looked into the abyss without trembling, when it has tasted despair without retreat, that it may create anew. This, Nietzsche would call the birth of the “Übermensch,” the higher man who does not flee from life’s terrors but who shapes them into strength.

But let us remember this: many who face the abyss are not destroyed. The Stoic Epictetus, once a slave, looked upon pain, cruelty, and chains, and yet found a way to declare, “You may fetter my leg, but not even Zeus has power over my will.” He saw the same awfulness Nietzsche describes, but he turned it into freedom. The absurdity of life did not bind him, for he discovered within himself a power greater than circumstance: the power to choose his response, to carve meaning from chaos.

The lesson is clear: when despair comes, do not flee. When loathing seizes you, recognize it as the herald of transformation. To see life’s awfulness is to graduate from childhood into the stern school of wisdom. To confront its absurdity is to prepare the ground for creativity, for values forged by your own hand, not inherited by tradition or imposed by others. Do not fear despair—it is the crucible from which courage is born.

Thus, the practical path is this: when the weight of existence presses upon you, do not rush to silence it with pleasure or distraction. Sit with it. Wrestle with it. Write, reflect, pray, or labor with your hands until the loathing gives way to clarity. Remember the Buddha who found the Middle Way, Tolstoy who rediscovered humility, Epictetus who mastered his will. For you, too, can transform despair into strength. And when you rise from that fire, you will no longer fear the awfulness of existence, nor shrink from its absurdity. You will have become, in your own measure, a creator of meaning, a witness that even in the face of nothingness, man may yet affirm life.