Unity and Plurality in Postmodern Narcissistic “Game of Life” Spirituality through the Lens of Axiomatology
In contemporary Western societies, “spirituality” is frequently promoted as a personal lifestyle orientation—a practice purported to help individuals “stay on the right path.” Yet, under closer inspection, what is commonly labeled as spirituality today has been stripped of its ontological grounding and redefined through the lens of individual emotional gratification. From the perspective of Axiomatology, this signals not just a conceptual dilution but a structural disintegration of meaning. This article critically examines the metaphysical incoherence and psychological consequences of postmodern spiritual narratives, particularly those that elevate pluralism and self-referential “oneness” as substitutes for objective moral structure and coherent value hierarchies. We contrast these trends with historically rooted, cosmologically coherent models of spirituality, proposing that only narrative-based alignment with structured values can offer existential clarity and personal integrity in the face of modern identity fragmentation.
Spirituality as Fidelity through Imago Dei
Contemporary discourse is saturated with phrases like: “I don’t believe in God, but I’m spiritual,” or “I’m not religious, but I believe in a universal Spirit,” or even, “I wouldn’t call myself atheist or agnostic, but rather an-agnostic and spiritually open.” These expressions are often celebrated as enlightened pluralism, yet they reveal a deeper drift from the original ontological weight once carried by the term spirituality.
Historically—particularly within the Christian tradition—spirituality was not a vague psychological state or eclectic metaphysical hobbyism. It was grounded in Imago Dei (the image of God): the belief that every human being bears within their self-consciousness a divine spark, not self-generated, nor acquired from worldly experience, but a metaphysical imprint bestowed by the Creator. As written in Genesis 1:27: “So God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.” In this context, spirituality implied sanctity, accountability, and fidelity to a transcendent moral order.
Imago Dei formed the foundation of human dignity: the claim that every individual has inherent worth, regardless of social status, age, physical ability, or personal attributes. This concept bound together ontological essence and moral obligation—our moral agency was not constructed from culture or consensus, but derived from an external, absolute source. Spirituality, then, was not personal freedom disguised as metaphysics; it was a form of fidelity—to divine order, to universal law, and to the responsibility of acting in moral coherence.
This original spiritual vision resonates strongly in Kant’s deontological ethics, particularly his Categorical Imperative: “Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.” Kant’s framework is deeply indebted to the same metaphysical source—he conceptualizes rational moral action as a reflection of the structure of universal reason, itself arguably another expression of divine order. His injunction, “Act in such a way that you treat humanity… always at the same time as an end, never merely as a means,” (Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals) echoes the biblical ethos rooted in Imago Dei.
The biblical “Golden Rule” encapsulates this same alignment. Matthew 7:12: “So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets,” and Luke 6:31: “As you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.” The repeated emphasis across scripture is that spirituality is not about self-soothing “oneness,” but rather about absolute respect for the divine presence within oneself and in others. As Matthew 25:40 affirms: “As you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.”
In essence, true spirituality, as conceived through the Axiomatological lens, is not subjective preference nor postmodern emotional abstraction—it is the metaphysical cause and ground of moral absolutism. It is fidelity to cosmic order, mirrored in the moral law and enacted in personal responsibility.
Postmodern Spirituality – All-Inclusive Plurality
In today’s postmodern context, spirituality no longer denotes a clearly defined metaphysical category, let alone a shared moral framework. Instead, it has become a symbol of hyper-plurality. The semantic shift is so extreme that it is difficult to establish what spiritual definitively does mean—yet even more difficult to say what it does not mean. As the pendulum swings toward complete individualization, spirituality is now often associated with vague affective states, therapeutic narratives, and idiosyncratic interpretations of experience.
Rather than pointing toward a coherent metaphysical source or moral order, postmodern spirituality has become a repository for anything subjectively meaningful. In this shift, it has also lost much of its former weight. As Jacques Derrida remarked in Limited Inc (1988), “The word 'context'—like all words—is a word, a sign, a mark, and therefore subject to the same play of differences, the same iterability, the same possibility of graft and substitution.” In this sense, the word spirituality becomes radically unstable—it can be endlessly redefined, displaced, and recontextualized. The result: if it can mean anything, it effectively means nothing.
This conceptual erosion manifests in increasingly vague formulations such as:
“Feeling connected to something bigger than myself”
“Inner peace”
“Living my truth”
“Non-religious mindfulness”
“Energy work”
“Being in tune with the universe”
“The game of life”
Such definitions rarely appeal to transcendent order, moral accountability, or structured cosmology. Instead, they reduce spirituality to emotional resonance, aesthetic pleasure, or momentary cognitive alignment.
This inflation of meaning is visible in the proliferation of new labels: spiritual sexuality, masculine spirituality, eco-spirituality, AI spirituality, or even spiritual soy lattes. These are not parody—they are symptomatic of a larger epistemic trend in which the term spiritual has been entirely aestheticized and privatized. It now functions as a loose signifier for euphoric states, romanticized inner journeys, or ritualized consumer experiences.
“Spirituality” today may be whatever one feels when walking in nature, practicing yoga, reading Rumi, having sex, eating “heavenly” food, or becoming “high on life.” It has become personal mythology as lifestyle brand—detached from any coherent metaphysical anchoring or shared moral orientation.
In Axiomatology, this trend is not interpreted merely as harmless linguistic drift, but as a profound shift from moral realism to subjective emotionalism—a move from cosmic alignment to private sentiment. And that shift has consequences, both personally and culturally.
The Essence of the Adogmatic Lure in Postmodern Narcissistic Spirituality
What lies at the core of the modern Western fascination with spirituality—particularly the imported and transformed derivatives of Taoism, Buddhism, Western mysticism, and the vast array of yoga-based practices—is not merely a search for peace or meaning, but a deeper ideological shift. These frameworks offer not just psychological relief or existential comfort, but something more seductive: an adogmatic metaphysical system that legitimizes emotional subjectivism while evading moral responsibility.
Ready-Made Persona and Existential Blueprint
The surface-level appeal is obvious. These traditions provide a convenient structure through which individuals can frame their existence, rituals, and daily habits. They allow one to feel connected to something “greater,” to attribute meaning to mundane experiences, and to navigate the anxiety of modern life with a sense of spiritual vocabulary.
Even more appealing, they come with a pre-fabricated persona—the “spiritual seeker,” the “conscious being,” or the “awakened soul”—alongside a cosmology that explains the universe, human suffering, and the path to “alignment” or “flow.” The promise of clarity without judgment and transcendence without doctrine becomes psychologically irresistible in a fragmented postmodern world.
The Core Lure: Escape from Moral Absolutism
Yet beneath the soothing surface lies a more profound and culturally consequential mechanism: the systematic displacement of moral responsibility. The ultimate temptation is not inner peace per se, but moral relativism. In this cosmology, there are no binding ethical absolutes. Instead, what is good becomes whatever feels internally harmonious. What is right is what aligns with one’s “authentic path.”
Absolutism is framed as dangerous, oppressive, or “radical.” Any suggestion of moral universality—especially concerning loyalty, fidelity, or personal responsibility—is treated as outdated or even toxic. This rejection of fixed ethical frameworks is not an unfortunate side effect of these spiritual systems. It is, in many cases, their unspoken core.
In short: postmodern spirituality offers metaphysical elevation without moral weight.
Inner Peace Over Covenantal Duty
The primary object of fidelity is no longer God, nor family, nor even community—but one’s own inner peace. Ethical transgressions are not judged by their impact on others, but by their internal affective resonance. Detachment, serenity, and balance are the supreme values, often replacing truth, justice, or loyalty. Thus, even infidelity, betrayal, or sustained dishonesty can be reframed as necessary phases of one’s spiritual journey—mere “unfoldings of the self.”
This yields a closed-loop justification system: if someone protests or invokes moral judgment, they are “not evolved,” “too attached,” or “in need of healing.” The structure becomes a kind of metaphysical Ouroboros—a self-devouring logic of endless self-validation, immune to critique.
Such practices promise transcendence, but often deliver therapeutic narcissism cloaked in spiritual language.
No Ego — No One to Blame
One of the most disarming features of postmodern spirituality is its subtle erasure of moral accountability through the glorification of egolessness. While often presented as a form of spiritual transcendence or psychological liberation, the dissolution of the ego—whether via the Buddhist doctrine of anatta (no-self) or New Age reinterpretations of ego-death—carries with it a radical consequence: the disappearance of the moral subject.
If there is no enduring self, then who is accountable? If the self is a mere narrative illusion, then personal responsibility becomes a fiction too. This does not merely obscure moral agency—it systematically dismantles it. And though many contemporary spiritual frameworks attempt to soften this nihilistic implication with vague appeals to “interconnectedness,” they rarely reintroduce any coherent mechanism for justice, atonement, or moral fidelity.
Flow Over Promises
Postmodern spirituality also glorifies “naturalness” and spontaneity—most often articulated through concepts like wu wei(effortless action) or “being in the flow.” In theory, this is a call to surrender to the rhythm of life. In practice, it often amounts to the systematic deconstruction of duty and the erosion of long-term commitment.
Commitments, promises, and covenants—especially those that carry moral or relational weight—are rebranded as unnatural, or worse, as impositions by external forces. The logic is circular but compelling: If I gave a promise while out of alignment, then that promise was not “true to myself.” Therefore, honoring it would violate my authentic spiritual flow.
As a result, the person insisting on fidelity or consistency is often pathologized—as controlling, rigid, or unenlightened. This move weaponizes relativism into moral reversal. The one keeping the promise becomes the tyrant; the one breaking it becomes the spiritually free.
No Structured Moral Hierarchy
A third and perhaps most dangerous feature of modern spiritual eclecticism is its complete abandonment of structured moral hierarchy. The multiplicity of deities, energies, archetypes, and symbolic figures—whether drawn from Vedic pantheons, neo-pagan systems, or purely invented cosmologies—creates a flattened moral terrain where no single order governs.
Without a monotheistic moral axis—no divine lawgiver, no univocal Logos—there is no fixed center of gravity. Fidelity becomes negotiable, virtue becomes mood-dependent, and sin ceases to be meaningful at all.
What results is a game of divine triangulation. Individuals can invoke whichever deity or spiritual principle best justifies their current behavior. If accountability arises, it can always be reframed through another god’s “perspective.” One god explains why the promise was sacred; another explains why it never truly existed.
To the casual observer, both positions may seem coherent—until they realize the moral system is built on sand, and the tides change with every emotional high or mystical workshop.
The Introduction of Postmodern Individualism into Spirituality
Although practitioners of contemporary “spirituality” often reject the label of postmodern, their beliefs and behaviors are unmistakably rooted in postmodern logic. In fact, much of what passes as spirituality today in the Western world is a hybridized product: Eastern religious motifs laced with the narcissistic individualism of late-stage liberalism. The core values that undergird this fusion are not transcendence or fidelity—but authenticity, personal growth, and “my truth.”
This mixture allows individuals to deploy sacred language—often borrowed from Eastern metaphysical systems—as moral camouflage for what are, in effect, hedonistic or selfish behaviors. It is a perfect ouroboros: the individual both defines the moral rule and is its only judge. “I did what I felt was right for me,” becomes not just an excuse, but a spiritual principle.
Truth, in this context, is privatized. “You have your truth, I have mine”—a claim that renders ethics obsolete by dissolving universals into personal narratives.
Karma as Delayed and Impersonal Justice
Moral consequences—when acknowledged at all—are outsourced to abstract mechanisms like karma, conveniently understood as “slow,” impersonal, and indefinitely delayed. Even grievous betrayals or moral failures can be dismissed with the assurance that karmic balance will eventually be restored… somehow. The result is a curious mix of moral laziness and metaphysical outsourcing: any real-time accountability is bypassed.
This severely diminishes the emotional gravity of disloyalty or cruelty. Since the universe—not the person—will eventually “correct” the imbalance, the individual remains unburdened. In the meantime, one can “clear their karma” through self-care, charity, or fasting—thus neutralizing wrongs through symbolic gestures.
Reincarnation as a License for Ethical Evasion
Even more radical is the metaphysical backdrop of reincarnation. If this life is merely one stop in a chain of infinite incarnations, the moral seriousness of this life is reduced. Promises made, covenants formed, and children born—all become temporary experiments within a longer, undefined “soul journey.”
In this context, marriage is rebranded as a provisional encounter; fidelity, a phase in the growth arc. One's duty to others becomes a relative concern—less of a sacred vow, more of a passing spiritual lesson.
Western Spirituality as Cafeteria Religion
Most Western engagements with Eastern traditions are “cafeteria-style”—they cherry-pick the aesthetically pleasing, low-commitment elements (meditation, energy flow, incense, statues of deities), while leaving out the demanding ethical frameworks, rigorous monastic discipline, or centuries-long contemplative traditions that grounded these practices.
This patchwork creates a lifestyle more than a theology—one adorned with symbols of divine insight but hollowed of obligation. It permits individuals to construct a persona of mystical awareness while sidestepping any of the moral constraints such awareness would historically entail.
Detachment as Emotional Evasion
Finally, one of the most potent distortions comes through the abuse of “detachment.” Originally intended to promote inner peace and freedom from egoic desire, detachment is now routinely weaponized to justify emotional withdrawal, ghosting, abandonment, or infidelity.
Statements like “you’re too attached,” “this is your karma, not mine,” or “you’re on a different frequency” are deployed not as spiritual insights—but as evasions. The postmodern spiritualist not only escapes responsibility but rebrands their escape as a form of superior consciousness. If challenged, the moral inversion is complete: You are unenlightened for holding them accountable. They are beyond your level of vibrational understanding.
A Concrete Example: “We’re Just Spiritual Friends”
To grasp the radical abdication of responsibility embedded in much of today’s Westernized spirituality, consider a hypothetical—but all-too-believable—scenario:
A married woman travels with a male spiritual friend. They sleep together. She becomes pregnant. She secretly has an abortion. She never tells her husband or her children.
On first glance, this seems plainly immoral—many would reflexively judge such a person as a liar, a betrayer, perhaps even a bad mother. But postmodern spirituality offers a fully developed rhetorical toolkit to not only escape judgment—but to reverse it.
In fact, the accuser is likely to be seen as the one with the problem. Too “rigid,” too “judgmental,” not spiritually evolved enough. The tools of this inversion are numerous and refined. Let’s explore just ten, next.
1. “Yes, the ego lied—but I didn’t.”
This is one of the most common forms of spiritual dissociation in New Age and pseudo-Eastern frameworks. The individual doesn’t deny the lie or the act, but detaches the self from it.
“My ego lied, but my true self transcends that.”
This line of reasoning is based on a distorted appropriation of non-dualist metaphysics, particularly reworked versions of Buddhism and Advaita Vedanta.
In this model, the ego is treated as a misbehaving pet—something unfortunate but not morally serious. The lie was simply an event in the ego’s “drama,” but the real self floats above it, untouched, stainless.
This maneuver dissolves moral responsibility. The “I” that betrayed is not the real I. The guilt is bypassed, and if others hold the individual accountable, they become the problem—for “projecting,” for “identifying with ego,” or for not “seeing the higher truth.”
2. “Truth is Relative to Consciousness—Don’t Force Your Truth Onto Me”
Here we encounter the full force of moral relativism under the banner of personal authenticity. In this worldview, there is no such thing as stable, objective truth—only situational, felt, inner “truth.” The individual might say:
“When I promised fidelity, I was speaking my truth in that moment. When I later had sex with another person, that was also my truth. I never lied—I simply evolved.”
This slippery framework draws on the popular New Age dogma that “truth is fluid” and that each person is on their own unique path. Inspired by ideas of Taoist spontaneity (wu wei) and spiritual improvisation, this logic dissolves even the clearest moral contracts into momentary authenticity.
It allows for contradiction without guilt, betrayal without consequence, and lies without liars.
3. Non-Attachment to Outcome — Ethical Apathy Disguised as Peace
This mechanism, though bordering on what would otherwise be viewed as psychopathic indifference, is deeply rooted in contemporary spiritual detachment doctrine. The claim is simple:
“I’m not responsible for how others interpret my actions. I’m staying unattached.”
In this framework, the person betrayed is reframed as emotionally immature for still feeling hurt. Their continued pain or sense of betrayal becomes a sign of their own attachment, their failure to let go, and thus their own moral failure. Any attempt to hold the betrayer accountable is pathologized as emotional dependency.
This draws on Eastern ideas of detachment from craving and aversion, particularly from distorted forms of Buddhism and Advaita Vedanta. But in this appropriation, it serves as an alibi, not a discipline. Even sins of omission—failing to warn, failing to protect, failing to disclose—are neutralized. A person can cheat and say:
“I was simply present. I didn’t do anything. It happened.”
The responsibility is bypassed entirely. Why? Because responsibility itself has been reframed as an attachment to outcome, not a moral duty.
4. “Everything Is Part of the Game of Life” — Moral Passivity as Spiritual Insight
This maneuver elevates spiritual relativism into metaphysical determinism. It proclaims:
“There are no real mistakes—everything unfolds as it must.”
Borrowing selectively from Taoism, Hindu cosmology, and quantum woo, this logic casts every betrayal as part of a divine script. There are no sins, only events. No responsibility, only participation. A person who has done harm can claim that the outcome is not to be judged—but accepted—as part of the “unfolding of the cosmic dance.”
From this view, even lying, abandonment, or infidelity can be retroactively spiritualized:
“It happened because it was meant to.”
Accountability becomes unnecessary, even a form of resistance to cosmic flow. Those who demand it are simply “not seeing the bigger picture.”
5. “I’m Being Authentic” — Selfishness Framed as Self-Honesty
This is one of the most cunning twists. In this formulation, the betrayal itself becomes not a sign of immorality, but of integrity. The cheater or liar says:
“To not act on this would’ve been a lie to myself.”
This ideology is central to the cult of authenticity and self-actualization in spiritual narcissism. The more someone hurts others in the name of their “inner path,” the more heroic their journey is portrayed. Fidelity, duty, promises, and other relational obligations are redefined as obstacles to self-realization.
The victim is then accused of moral authoritarianism for “not supporting growth,” or “projecting guilt.” In this reversal, the person demanding honesty becomes the aggressor, while the betrayer becomes a spiritual revolutionary.
6. Classic “No Judgment” — Suppression of Moral Discernment
This is one of the most culturally accepted spiritual maneuvers. It hinges on a selectively interpreted amalgam of Christian humility, Eastern detachment, and postmodern aversion to moral hierarchies. The assertion:
“No one should judge anyone—not even themselves.”
This rhetoric of “radical acceptance” is often used to shield both self and others from critical examination. What it really does is collapse moral discernment under the weight of an allegedly enlightened apathy. Moral outrage is reinterpreted as egotism, confrontation becomes “vibrationally low,” and accountability is dismissed as a “projection.”
The result is a spiritualized blanket amnesty for one’s own behavior. Self-confrontation, guilt, or confession is pathologized as neurotic or unevolved. What might be cowardice or moral laziness is reframed as transcendent tolerance. It's the spiritual version of neutralizing truth with euphemism.
7. “Karma Will Handle It” — Outsourcing Moral Consequence
This move works because it flirts with the language of accountability without actually practicing it. It sounds like this:
“Yes, perhaps I made mistakes. But I trust karma to balance things.”
This posture makes guilt look unnecessary. The idea is that cosmic justice is not only inevitable—it’s preferable to personal responsibility. Karma becomes the subcontractor for conscience.
It’s a brilliant moral evasion technique, especially effective in spiritual circles that uphold karma but downplay confession, repair, or recompense. As a result, relational damage, betrayal, or moral cowardice is dumped into the vague metaphysical ledger of “karma,” allowing the actor to walk away cleansed without ever apologizing, compensating, or facing what they’ve done.
This works because it appeals to a universally known concept while neutralizing the urgency of ethical action.
8. “Let There Be Silence” — Avoiding Responsibility Through Mystification
Here we reach the highest level of spiritual misdirection. A practitioner commits a serious omission—an affair, a betrayal, a deception—and then refuses to speak about it with the claim:
“Silence is the truest wisdom. You must discover your own path.”
This is a mystification strategy masquerading as transcendence. The refusal to disclose becomes a lesson, the sin of omission becomes a gift, and the person left in the dark is supposedly on the receiving end of some cosmic pedagogy they will one day “thank you for.”
It’s the spiritual version of ghosting with a halo. A Zen riddle that leaves the victim in an existential maze where their own confusion is cast as growth.
This move often leaves others feeling ashamed of even asking for the truth. It’s a powerful gaslighting tool that coats avoidance in mysticism—implying that speech would violate a deeper spiritual order. And the deeper the silence, the more “holy” the act becomes.
9. Back to Classics: “All Is One” — Erasure of Personal Moral Boundaries
This is the masterstroke of spiritual absolution—simple, effective, and irrefutable in its metaphysical disarmament. It sounds like this:
“There is no you. No me. No betrayal. All is One.”
It draws from non-dualist spiritual traditions such as Advaita Vedanta, Alan Watts’ monist reworkings, and contemporary Western rewrites of Eastern metaphysics. What it does, however, is collapse moral ontology entirely.
There can be no betrayal, because there are no distinct agents. No promises, because there are no separate selves. No damage, because there is no one to be harmed. In this metaphysical sleight of hand, responsibility vanishes into cosmic mist.
This maneuver functions not as an insight but as a shutdown. It dissolves the relational world—where trust, fidelity, and repair matter—into a mystical blur. And the best part? It puts the burden back on the accuser, who is now guilty of dualistic thinking, lack of spiritual maturity, and not yet “seeing the whole.”
“You’re just not enlightened enough to understand. You still think people are separate.”
It’s the spiritual equivalent of gaslighting, elevated to metaphysical art.
10. “I’m Practicing Detachment from Shame” — Conscience Bypassing Move
This is the final boss of spiritual disassociation. It flips the script entirely and weaponizes healing rhetoric. The line goes:
“Shame is a social construct. I’m evolving beyond it. Your accusation just shows you haven’t done the work yet.”
What could have been a moment of moral clarity is transformed into a diagnostic judgment of the other’s emotional immaturity. Shame becomes a pathology, not a moral signal. Conscience is rebranded as trauma residue.
The brilliance of this move lies in its inversion of guilt. Instead of being held accountable, the individual now assumes the superior position of someone “healed” or “unblocked.” The one demanding truth or justice becomes a repressed, shame-based ego case clinging to outdated moral scaffolding.
And if you press further?
“You’ll understand when your future becomes my past.”
Cue silence. Cue incense. Cue the collapsing boundary between cowardice and enlightenment.
One Rule: There Are No Rules — The Ultimate Escape Hatch of Postmodern Spirituality
In the postmodern spiritual ecosystem, there is one unspoken commandment that trumps all others:
“There are no commandments.”
This is the terminal paradox of the contemporary spiritual mindset. Not only are there no rules—any attempt to formulate or reference a rule is immediately marked as oppressive, dualistic, or simply “unenlightened.”
Just to illustrate how spirituality can be used to justify practically any deed, we can explore the example of Heinrich Himmler. He was deeply influenced by ideas of duty and destiny. He reportedly kept a copy of the Bhagavad Gita by his bedside and encouraged SS officers to read it. Obviously, his fascination came not from true spiritual alignment with Hinduism, but from how the Gita presents a justification for violence committed as part of one's ordained duty. One quote often attributed to Himmler, or reported by contemporaries like Ernst Schertel and Felix Kersten (his personal physician), is:
"The Bhagavad Gita tells us that a man who does his duty is not responsible for the consequences."
This paraphrases Krishna’s teaching to Arjuna in Chapters 2 and 3 of the Gita—where Arjuna is told to fight in a righteous war without attachment to the outcomes, because his duty (dharma) as a warrior requires it. Himmler twisted this into a moral framework where SS soldiers could kill without guilt, so long as they believed it was part of their "duty" to history or the Fatherland. That, too, is just distancing from the Self.
Himmler was not an emotionless monster—in fact, eyewitness accounts say he sometimes wept after visiting execution sites. But rather than let this spark moral reflection, he used spiritual and ideological frameworks to suppress personal guilt. The Gita helped him to reframe genocide as duty: He interpreted the mass killing of Jews, Slavs, and others not as murder, but as an impersonal act of fulfilling a higher historical–cosmic plan.
Detach emotion from action. Krishna’s advice to act without attachment gave Himmler a model of self-as-instrument—a philosophical way to suppress empathy.
Avoid inner conflict. By absorbing the role of the warrior doing divine duty, he shielded himself and his officers from self-reflection or remorse.
This spiritualized violence fits into what Hannah Arendt later called the "banality of evil"—the bureaucratic and ideological distancing that lets ordinary people do monstrous things while seeing themselves as dutiful or righteous.
Obviously, the authentic spiritual meaning of the Bhagavad Gita is far more complex, and Himmler’s interpretation represents a deeply distorted, decontextualized misuse of the text. However, that is exactly the mechanism at play in the present moment with the distortion of Eastern philosophy in modern times.
True practices have become infinite ambiguity.
Many popular authors have been brilliant in their ability to deconstruct Western moralism using Zen, Taoism, and Vedanta. But they also used these traditions to justify irresponsibility as wisdom.
“You are under no obligation to be the same person you were five minutes ago.”
Sounds liberating—but it can also be weaponized: no loyalty, no responsibility, no continuity of character. Such authors helped plant the idea that “flowing with the Tao” could mean opting out of structure, family, duty, and pain—an aesthetic detachment eerily similar in structure to Himmler’s war-as-duty detachment.
The present moment as anaesthesia.
In many Western mysticism practices, the teaching goes like:
“Nothing ever happened in the past; it happened in the Now.”
This sounds deep, but in practice, it becomes a tool to erase causality—including the moral kind. This over-focus on presence allows people to disown past guilt, future responsibility, and moral causation, instead favoring emotional neutrality. It can be easily weaponized into a kind of narcissistic enlightenment—calm, smiling, unbothered… and morally disengaged.
The final spiritual move of evil isn't to embrace cruelty—it’s to erase the category of good and evil entirely and call it transcendence. The lines are so blurred that everything becomes foggy. This nihilistic metaphysics of pseudo-oneness opens the door to absurdly total justification — for anything. Including something as grave and irreversible as abortion, betrayal, or collective deception.
Let’s unpack how even such a a deed as an abortion can be justified.
The All-Time Classic: “It’s All About the Energies”
The beauty of the term “energy” is that it requires no definition. It is both a noun and a moral force, a justification and a mystery. In this context, abortion is no longer abortion. It becomes an energetic transaction:
“This soul wasn’t meant to incarnate yet.”
“The timing didn’t align with my vibration.”
“We made a sacred agreement on a soul level.”
Life and death dissolve into a metaphysical blur. Consciousness is non-linear, agency is fluid, and morality—well, it’s your hang-up. The unborn child becomes a misunderstood metaphor, and those who grieve the act are labeled as “spiritually underdeveloped.”
Moral Superiority: Protection of Inner Peace
In this reframing, truth becomes a weapon, and lying becomes an act of compassion. The logic is simple:
“You couldn’t handle the truth.”
“I didn’t lie; I spared you suffering.”
“My truth is sacred and private.”
Here, the concept of moral duty is subordinated to emotional tranquility. Telling the truth is reframed as unnecessary violence. With this mental jiu-jitsu, betrayal becomes care, and silence becomes wisdom.
Spiritual Conspiracy as Higher Loyalty
Imagine a friend helping another commit a secret abortion, lying to the father by claiming it was a cyst operation. In any sane moral system, this would be deception. In spiritual relativism?
“We protected her womb from toxic intrusion.”
“It was an act of loyalty—to her sacred sovereignty.”
This form of soul-group ethics frames moral wrongdoing as cosmic teamwork. Truth becomes optional, secondary to “holding space,” and protecting “evolutionary autonomy.” Spiritual loyalty replaces covenantal responsibility, and those who protest are labeled as judgmental fundamentalists.
The Spiritual Endgame: Metaphysical Gaslighting
The pièce de résistance of spiritual relativism is the metaphysical argument that simply cannot be countered:
“Everything happened as it should.”
“The soul of the unborn child chose this fate.”
“There are no victims—only lessons.”
“You’ll understand when your ego dissolves.”
This is moral gaslighting at its highest resolution. The speaker situates themselves at the summit of cosmic awareness and positions all critique as ignorance. There is no longer a shared plane of meaning, let alone morality. The argument collapses, not because it was resolved, but because the goalposts were moved out of the visible universe.
Conclusion: All Is Flow, Game of Life, Nothing Is Ground
In this spiritual cosmology, truth becomes relative, pain becomes illusion, and betrayal becomes a path to enlightenment. All moral anchoring is replaced by energetic intuition. The collective soul contract apparently includes the right to lie, cheat, abandon, and call it love.
From the outside, it appears almost psychopathic. From the inside, it feels sacred.
And that, precisely, is the danger.
The Deeper Problem: A Crisis of Edges
While the spiritual justifications listed earlier may seem at times absurd or even darkly comedic, their core danger lies far deeper. They do not merely reflect the moral evasions of irresponsible individuals—they represent a catastrophic deformation in how reality itself is processed and experienced. What we’re witnessing is not just a breakdown of ethics, but the disintegration of epistemological and moral edges—boundaries that define right from wrong, truth from lie, responsibility from escapism.
A Generation Raised in Randomness
When children grow up hearing their parents describe lying, cheating, the dissolution of family, abortion, and betrayal as part of a “spiritual journey,” they do not simply witness a failure in judgment. They are inducted into a worldview without structure, one that tells them that nothing is sacred, everything is up for interpretation, and responsibility is just another subjective construct—best avoided through emotional detachment and linguistic sleight-of-hand.
In this framework, there are no sacred duties, only evolving personal narratives. Any accusation of betrayal can be reframed as oppression. Any confrontation becomes a threat to inner peace. Absolutism is rebranded as “radical,” and all values are liquified into contextual vapor—shifting, untouchable, conveniently unclear.
The Edge Dissolves — and So Does the Parent
In such a household, where moral edges are denied, what is the actual function of the parent? If we say that “children have their own lives anyway,” and “we cannot influence their choices,” then why pretend at all? If nothing the parent does ultimately matters, then why parent?
This question cannot be dismissed as philosophical overreach. It is the existential void at the heart of postmodern parenting. And when confronted with this, many spiritual parents default to the safe cliché:
“Of course lying is wrong. Truth is one of our core values.”
But that, too, collapses under pressure. Where is the edge of truth? When does a lie become unacceptable? Can we lie about a pack of gum? A missed homework assignment? A partner’s betrayal? If the answer is “It depends,” then truth itself is no longer a value—but a vibe.
And the moment we introduce even a single permissible lie, even a noble “white lie,” the moral architecture collapses. The categorical imperative disappears.
There is no longer a fidelity to something higher than oneself—no metaphysical “eye above the ego” watching or measuring the soul’s coherence. Instead, the individual becomes the criminal, judge, and jury, operating entirely within the self-contained courtroom of subjective justification.
The Recursive Collapse of Integrity
This is how the pattern becomes self-reinforcing. What begins as a tiny rationalization—an omission here, a spiritual spin there—grows into a fully recursive identity loop:
“I lie because my higher self knows when the truth is too much.”
That logic becomes applied consistently and indiscriminately. A child lies about a grade. A teenager lies about sex. An adult lies about a job, a partner, a pregnancy. By the time consequences arrive—divorce, estrangement, moral exhaustion—the inner narrative simply upgrades:
“They weren’t spiritually evolved enough to understand me.”
And one day, the individual stands alone—no family, no spouse, no trust, no legacy—only the vague fragments of a thousand spiritual justifications that never built anything lasting.
The Three Sample Absolutes
In the Axiomatological framework, there are three non-negotiable moral edges that must remain firm for any sustainable identity, relationship, or spiritual system:
Truth must be told — always, regardless of consequence.
Not your truth. Not a reframed truth. The truth.Promises must be kept.
Words are covenants. To break them is to weaken the structure of moral reality itself.One must take full responsibility for all actions — including omissions.
There are no spiritual exceptions. To know and not to act is a sin.
These three edges are not psychological tools. They are cosmic scaffolding. Violate them, and what collapses is not just morality—but identity, meaning, and any coherent future. Let them stand, and the human being becomes once again what it was intended to be: a reflector of divine order, through the integrity of word, deed, and will.
The Binding Power of the Spoken Word: Jacob, Isaac, and the Sacred Ontology of Promises
In the biblical worldview, words are not context-dependent performances — they are acts of creation. This becomes undeniable in Genesis 27, where Jacob, under Rebekah’s guidance, deceives his blind father Isaac to steal the blessing meant for his brother Esau. Jacob dons Esau’s garments, covers his arms with goat skin, and mimics his brother’s mannerisms. Isaac, though suspicious, is eventually convinced. He lays hands on Jacob and pronounces the irrevocable blessing of the firstborn.
When Esau returns and the deception is revealed, Isaac “trembled very violently” (Genesis 27:33), yet he does not revoke the blessing. Instead, he utters:
“Indeed, he shall be blessed.” (Genesis 27:33, ESV)
This is not weakness. It is metaphysical integrity. Isaac honors the spoken word as a binding, ontological act, not merely a social contract that can be undone upon discovering foul play. Even when uttered under deception, the word stands— because it was uttered before God, and that alone gives it moral finality. It is an act inscribed into the cosmic ledger.
Now imagine the postmodern “spiritual” Isaac. What might he have done?
He could have:
Revoked the blessing as “egoic performance.”
Split the blessing between the brothers in the name of “balance.”
Declared all are blessed — and therefore no one is.
Claimed the idea of “blessing” itself was a patriarchal construct.
Or justified a new choice based on "authentic flow" and "the evolving moment."
And none of that would’ve been satire.
The postmodern spiritual Isaac is a shapeshifter. His values shift with mood, his promises flow with the winds of desire. But the biblical Isaac demonstrates what covenantal fidelity means: once you speak before God, the word binds you, not just the recipient. In this view, speech itself is sacred, and its integrity cannot be subordinated to pleasure, expedience, or post-rationalization.
Jacob the Deceiver, Transformed by Fidelity (Genesis 29)
Ironically, the very same Jacob who once weaponized deception later becomes its victim. In Genesis 29, Jacob labors seven years for Laban to marry Rachel. On the wedding night, Laban replaces Rachel with her older sister, Leah — a masterstroke of misdirection. When Jacob confronts him, Laban offers a culturally convenient excuse and proposes a new deal:
“Complete the week of this one, and we will give you the other also in return for serving me another seven years.” (Genesis 29:27, ESV)
And Jacob agrees. He does not retaliate, does not break his oath, and does not spiritualize his betrayal into a new “authentic truth.” Instead, he honors the deal, working another seven years without protest. This is not cowardice. It is moral evolution.
Jacob, who once exploited the system for gain, now upholds it at personal cost. He absorbs injustice without corrupting his integrity. He does not hide behind context, relativism, or personal growth jargon. He chooses covenantal responsibility over reactionary justice. That is the definition of spiritual maturity.
Sacred Speech, Moral Ontology, and Postmodern Collapse
Both episodes — Isaac’s unwavering word and Jacob’s honorable endurance — reflect an ancient moral structure where words are not performances, but ontological declarations. They shape reality. Once spoken, they echo in eternity. In this system, to lie, to break a vow, or to walk away from a promise is not simply “unskillful”—it is a violation of cosmic architecture.
“Let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No.’ Anything more than this comes from evil.”
— Matthew 5:37
“When you make a vow to God, do not delay in fulfilling it. He has no pleasure in fools; fulfill your vow.”
— Ecclesiastes 5:4
This is what separates Axiomatology’s spiritual metaphysics from the postmodern spiritual narcissism of the age. It is not “freedom from rules” that liberates the soul — it is fidelity to the eternal word, spoken not for convenience but for alignment with the divine.
Let the reader ask themselves: When I speak, does it bind me to something higher — or do I always keep the door open for reinterpretation?
Because once that door is always open, meaning has already walked out.
The Essence of the Problem: Distorted Vision and the Loss of Moral Edges
Immanuel Kant famously described the a priori categories as the foundational mechanics that allow us to perceive and make sense of the world. When we walk into a room and immediately recognize a table, a bottle, a cup, and a book—not one amorphous blob—it’s because our minds are equipped with the preconditions of discernment: intuitions of space and time, yes, but also the structural capacity to distinguish unity from plurality, substance from accident, cause from consequence. We perceive edges, not chaos. We don’t just see reality—we structure it before we even know we're doing so.
The only way we can counter entropy in our environment is by having a framework that anchors meaning.
When postmodern spiritual relativism blurs the difference between unity and plurality, this entire perceptual framework collapses. The moral architecture of life begins to rot.
Family, once a sacred unity, becomes a mere plurality of self-focused individuals wandering along parallel “spiritual paths” with no shared destination. A promise is no longer binding but context-dependent. A betrayal can be reframed as a lesson or an act of personal growth. Oneness is evoked to justify fusion when it suits us—but the moment responsibility knocks, we suddenly separate ourselves from others, citing individuation or “personal alignment.”
In this collapse, truth becomes modular, unity becomes optional, and nothing remains holy. But the deeper tragedy is not ours alone—it is inherited. Our children watch us. They listen. They learn. And they ask questions.
And then, they walk into the room—the same room Kant described—and something horrifying happens:
They see the table, the floor, the books, the light… but they no longer know what belongs to what. The amount of entropy is overwhelming. There is potential, yes—but it’s the kind of potential that comes from raw chaos, not structured possibility.
Is the table part of the floor?
Are the books part of the table, or entities on their own?
Is a story inside a book “just a metaphor,” or does it carry real moral weight?
They stumble—not because they are blind, but because we taught them not to trust the edges. Everything is up for endless interpretation, and nothing is definite.
They can’t distinguish whole from part, structure from fragment, unity from aggregation. And this isn’t just an abstract philosophical failure—it’s a failure of survival. The bridge has no visible edge. The fall is invisible. What once felt like solid ground now feels soft—until it disappears.
When we abandon moral absolutes, we don’t just induce entropy—we model it. And in doing so, we offer our children a reality without anchors.
When all is relative, when morality is fluid, when everything is “just interpretation,” there is no longer a foundation to stand on. Children need fixed edges. They need to know what cannot be broken—what must not be betrayed. Without that, they lose not just moral clarity but existential coherence.
Spirituality with Moral Randomness Is Not a Viable Answer
What will such “spiritual” parents ultimately tell their children? I have had countless discussions with individuals like this in my professional practice. They often enter the room confidently, their worldview intact—until it meets its first serious clash with reality. Until life presents enough chaos that their structure must be tested. That is when the real weakness is revealed.
Confusion: There Can Be No True Responsibility Without Structure
When parents adopt the idea that “there is no right or wrong, only presence or absence of ego,” they abandon the possibility of drawing meaningful moral lines for their children. Hedonism is cloaked in spiritual language—fluid, therapeutic, untethered to moral obligation.
But children don’t learn from what is said. They learn from what is lived.
If a mother commits adultery, undergoes an abortion, enters into a transactional relationship with a so-called “sugar daddy,” and never confesses that it was wrong—let alone repents or atones—then any words she utters about “valuing family,” “living in truth,” or “being loyal and faithful” become not just comically hollow, but dangerously absurd. From the standpoint of a child’s long-term survival in a complex world, such contradictions are catastrophic.
In these cases, “spiritual” parents often fall back on permissive detachment: “Let the child express themselves; they will find their own truth.” But without a structured concept of right and wrong, there is no compass. How will the child define concepts like family, truth, loyalty, or sacrifice? Only by observing the lived narrative of the parent—and that is exactly what they will follow.
The consequences are profound and unfold across every dimension of the child’s development, even in the simplest social interactions. The child begins to associate discipline with oppression and freedom with indulgence. This generates weak self-construction, entitlement, and eventually deep anxiety—because without moral structure, the world becomes uninhabitable.
No Hierarchical Moral Order Is Chaos and Entropy
When parents demonstrate through words or actions that everything is context-dependent — including the context itself — and still try to teach values like family, honesty, keeping one’s word, or being responsible, they reduce these to a flat, horizontal list. If these values do not consistently override instant gratification or self-serving impulses in their actual behavior, then all vertical moral structures collapse. The result is not neutrality — it is chaos. It is entropy.
Children quickly detect the dissonance. When a parent preaches fidelity but lives in indulgent self-justification — if, for example, a father in his later years has clearly lied, manipulated, or broken his word — and then tries to instruct his son that such behavior is wrong, the effect is not moral education. It’s a psychological crime. It actively damages the child's survival instincts. It teaches them to doubt every claim of ethical truth and prepares them not for life in the world, but for disillusionment and moral paralysis.
In these cases, parents often retreat to platitudes like “It is what it is”, or “Live and let live — everyone makes their own choices.” But children need more than freedom; they need ideals. And ideals cannot be built from empty gestures or denied pasts. Without a demonstrated hierarchy of values in the parent’s life — especially one marked by costly consistency — children cannot form any structured value systems of their own.
Worse, when children begin to see the conflict between their parent’s words and deeds, the entire value system collapses. Parents, afraid to appear authoritarian, avoid “imposing” values and instead present silence as autonomy. But this is not respect — it’s abdication.
The result? Children become morally disoriented. They grasp at frameworks from peer groups, pop culture, or social media influencers — most of whom lack moral backbone. This opens the door to emotional manipulation, ideological confusion, and identity fragmentation. And the results are everywhere in today's society.
No Confession, No Repentance, No Atonement = No Personal Responsibility
When a parent consistently models hedonism, betrayal, and manipulation — and never condemns or confesses these behaviors, masking them instead in spiritual relativism or “personal growth” — the child learns a devastating lesson: that moral accountability is optional, and integrity is a mood.
The true reason such parents don’t repent isn’t complexity — it’s fear. Fear of facing themselves, fear of being held to a standard, fear of moral gravity. So they choose spiritual abstraction over moral responsibility. But children are not fooled.
What they learn is this: “I, too, can live without responsibility. I’ll be an observer of my own actions, just like my parent was.” They adopt the same posture of nonjudgmental detachment. They begin to see all emotional reactions as “ego-based” and start avoiding confrontation altogether.
The outcome is predictable. When the child lies, bullies, or acts out, the parent merely “witnesses.” Intervention is minimal. But when children grow up enough to grasp the narrative, they turn to their parents and say:
“Who are you to correct me? You’re the lying sugar daddy. You’re the Babylonian whore. You have no right to tell me anything.”
And tragically — they’re right. If the parent has never condemned their past, ceased indulgent behaviors, or taken responsibility through confession, repentance, and atonement — they have no moral ground to stand on. Their words mean nothing.
The child follows suit: manipulative, passive-aggressive, boundary-testing, emotionally fragmented. No amount of “presence” or “awareness” will fix this because no moral anchor has been offered.
Breakdown of Family as Sacred Unit
The spiritual flexibility of such parents slowly destroys the meaning and significance of the nuclear family — once the very core of stability, peace, and certainty. Children quickly learn that “family” is not something sacred, not something above them or beyond momentary preferences.
In traditional moral systems — like Christianity — the family is holy. Mothers and fathers owe fidelity to each other, and children are born into a moral lineage that binds them together. There is “something” greater than the individual — a sacred unit into which each member is integrated. But spiritually fluid parents, who have themselves contributed to the systematic breakdown of family through indulgence, betrayal, and transactional relationships, often continue to speak about the “importance of valuing family.” Tragically, this only deepens the child’s distrust — both in them as parents and in the very idea of family as a stable moral structure.
What such spiritual parents actually demonstrate is that fidelity is “egoic attachment.” That relationships are optional performances — energetic exchanges without enduring responsibility. The family becomes a loose cluster of individuals. There is no shared story, no covenant, no unifying telos. Co-parenting turns into a shallow negotiation of scheduling and boundaries. Commitments are rewritten with every change in mood or alignment.
To mask this breakdown, some parents introduce concepts like “conscious uncoupling,” “collective parenting,” or “extended spiritual family.” These are marketed as progressive, high-vibrational models of care — but in essence, they are metaphysical rebrands of chaos. They dissolve the sacred center. It is the final act of value deconstruction — a family emptied of all meaning, dressed in the robes of spiritual innovation. Foucault and Deleuze would be proud.
Parents Refuse to Suffer — Often Just Hedonistic Narcissism
Such parents often say, “I need to feel fulfilled first, to be a good father/mother,” or “I can only pour into others once I’ve filled my own cup.” The phrase may sound harmless — even wise — but what it masks is usually simple hedonism. Exotic trips, emotional novelty, sexual variety, instant gratification, pleasure-seeking disguised as personal growth — all prioritized over the sacred duty of building and maintaining a stable home.
The brutal truth is this: family is built on meaning, and meaning correlates with suffering. There is nothing easy about marriage, stable relationship or parenting. No matter how enlightened you are, raising children and maintaining fidelity to a family structure requires painful, ongoing sacrifice. But once the parent prioritizes “their cup,” they often discover — too late — that the family vessel has already shattered and the children they want to starting “working on” now, have “left the building” (emotionally, or often also physically).
Still, many persist in the spiritual illusion: detachment from pain, avoidance of “low vibrational energy,” refusal to feed the “pain body.” They spiritualize their retreat from responsibility. But parenting cannot be done without long-term commitment, without suffering, without dying to the self again and again for the sake of someone else.
And here lies the tragedy: children model what they observe. When parents avoid suffering and spiritualize their selfishness, children absorb the lesson. They learn to run from emotional pain. They learn to seek novelty over loyalty. They learn that relationships are only as good as the pleasure they produce. In short: they lose the capacity to love sacrificially.
They grow up as the collateral damage of spiritualized narcissism. And when the time comes to form families of their own, they inherit not strength — but fragmentation.
Moral Relativism as a Survival Threat
“Spiritual” betrayal and relativistically justified lying may provide temporary relief — but it warps the very logic of reality. And this warping spreads. It corrupts not just moral intuition but the epistemic faculties of the next generation — their ability to perceive distinctions, recognize structure, and interpret meaning. This is no longer a matter of personal irresponsibility. It becomes generational sabotage.
The most dangerous aspect of postmodern narcissistic spirituality is not its language — but its infection of vision. We raise children who cannot read the moral grammar of the world. We teach them to play a game where rules don’t exist, meaning is optional, and no action matters unless it “feels right in the moment.”
And then we wonder why they can’t commit. Why they can’t trust. Why they can’t sacrifice. Why we can’t even reproduce anymore — not biologically, not relationally, not culturally.
There are edges that must never be blurred:
The sacred unity of family.
The absolute moral weight of truth-telling.
The sanctity of keeping one’s promises.
The necessity of taking full responsibility — including for sins of omission — as if committed by the self.
And above all, the inner strength to name falsehood, to face the ugly past, to confess, repent, and adorn with atonement. These are not relics of a religious age — they are survival principles.
This is the heart of Axiomatology — not because it’s rigid, but because it preserves the clarity of reality, generation after generation. It is a framework that protects the moral orientation necessary for any sustainable human civilization. Self-gratifying, narcissistic spirituality fails on every front — it cannot transmit responsibility, identity, or structure. It can only erode.
And if we lose this — if everything becomes a game of life — we don’t just lose morality.
We lose the very ability to survive as human beings.
