We all fail. It’s part of being human; trying, falling short of our own standards or those imposed on us by others. Most of us know this experience well, and for many it’s one of the most painful we face. Failure can bring shame, self-hatred, alienation, and the urge to disappear. But what if failure isn’t something to fear or avoid? What if it’s something we should actively seek?

In this week’s episode, I ask a simple but unsettling question: What is failure, and is it really that bad? Building on our previous exploration of nihilism, the relentlessly nihilistic Romanian philosopher Emil Cioran takes this idea to its extreme, inviting us to consider whether failing might be the only way we ever truly come to know ourselves.

Minneapolis has me thinking, as I assume it has a lot of us. I reflect on the state of the world, my country, philosophy, and I ask myself and you all, what are we supposed to do?

We are self-aware to the point that some see it as a curse, the true source of human suffering. And yet we persist, searching for meaning and purpose in an existence that appears to offer neither inherently. But what happens when we grow tired of performing, of wearing masks, of playing the roles we think we must? What does it mean to live authentically in that raw, honest space? And what might it look like for nihilism to overcome itself?

In this episode, I explore self-awareness not as something to flee from, but as something to lean into. With the guidance of Japanese philosopher Keiji Nishitani and the insights of existential psychotherapist Viktor Frankl, we begin to find the courage to face the void, and perhaps even allow it fully into our hearts, minds, and lives.

As humans, we possess a rare capacity: the ability to reflect on ourselves, to question our existence, to create meaning, and to build entire belief systems around a single question: why? But what if this gift is also a burden?

After several heavy episodes, I step back to ask whether we might be too self-aware for our own good. Drawing on the bleak and provocative reflections of Portuguese writer Fernando Pessoa and Norwegian philosopher Peter Wessel Zapffe, we confront an unsettling possibility: that our capacity for self-reflection is not only a source of suffering, but, if taken to its extreme, a reason some have argued humanity should not continue at all...

Over the past few episodes, we’ve explored the flaws, struggles, and misguided judgments that have shaped our society into something many people find difficult to live within, let alone find happiness, dignity, or peace. So what now?

In this episode, we explore another possibility: anarchism. From David Graeber to Peter Kropotkin, Emma Goldman to Henry David Thoreau, we encounter voices that have called for change for centuries, and a tradition far more nuanced than its reputation suggests.

Along the way, we ask a difficult question:

Is our fear of changing the system… the system speaking through us?

The current way of doing things isn’t working for a lot of people anymore. People are angry. People are demanding lives that feel worth living—less alienated from the things that matter most. It may be why democratic socialism is gaining traction in the U.S. But what does it actually mean? And what are the trade-offs?

In this week’s episode, we explore why so many people want change, where that change might lead, and why we seem unable to get there. With the misguided cautionary tale of political scientist Francis Fukuyama, we take a closer look at why meaningful change is so difficult to achieve.

Along the way, we also ask whether a politics built on “you owe me” is really the path forward.

We work, constantly. For many of us, it consumes most of our waking hours, and we do it simply to survive, often just barely. We’re told we should feel grateful to have a job at all, lucky to be paid to do something many don’t enjoy. Gratitude and loyalty are expected… but when did work become something we owe?

In this episode, we trace the history of work and examine how capitalism has shaped modern labor. With the help of anthropologist David Graeber and capitalism’s forefather Adam Smith, we ask a simple but radical question:

What do I actually owe my job?

Philosophy has shaped how we understand ourselves, our relationships, and our world. It has challenged our stories about reality and pushed us to question what we take for granted. But sometimes thinking isn’t enough. Sometimes philosophy must move us toward direct action, especially when the world we live in becomes unlivable.

In this week’s episode, we explore what it means to use philosophy as a catalyst for real change. Drawing from Simone Weil and Henry David Thoreau, and building on Episodes 21 and 31, we examine the ingredients needed to enact meaningful transformation in our lives and the world around us.

It might require us to become a little... disobedient.

When we think of the unconscious mind, we imagine mystery, depth, and vast uncharted territory. It can feel unsettling to consider what might surface when we stop keeping everything neatly tucked away. But what if the unconscious isn’t just chaos? What if it can be mapped?

In this final episode of our series on the unconscious, we turn to Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung to explore what it might mean to truly encounter the parts of ourselves we don’t consciously claim. As we descend into the psyche, we may discover that what shapes us isn’t entirely personal at all, but something far older, symbolic, and mythological, quietly living beneath the surface.

Since the beginning of this podcast, I’ve been asking the question: “Who am I?” As if finding ourselves would unlock endless possibilities.

But what if the answer to that question is far more unsettling than we ever imagined?

What if the “you” you think you know… isn’t the real you at all?

In this week’s episode, we continue our series on the unconscious mind by diving into the work of French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan—his theories on fantasies, mirrors, and the ever-mysterious, ever-unnerving Real.

Prepare to confront the possibility that the self you’ve always known… might just be an act.