Facing the Abyss vs. Buying the Mural

  A consumer guide to spiritual choices nobody asked for

Threshold of the Unnamed – Rendered by the author in Midjourney

I've come to a weird, random observation today, as I often do when the weather is too warm and humid for my own good. The process of building any kind of spiritual life is a lot like shopping. And to abominably oversimplify the matter, you’ve got two main products on the shelf to choose from – The Abyss™ and The Mural™:

• The Abyss™: Comes with existential dread, an occasional sense of being stared at by the void, and (if you’re lucky) moments of raw, unfiltered truth that rearrange your molecules a little bit. Side effects include insomnia, journaling in the middle of the night, and annoying other people by constantly saying things like, “But how do we know reality is real?”
• The Mural™: Brightly colored, easy to install, and guaranteed to hide any terrifying questions behind deceptively cheerful paint. Comes with bonus potlucks, matching T-shirts, and a sense of belonging with lots and lots of other Mural users. Just don’t ask why the mural smells faintly of mildew or what's actually in that potluck casserole.

Most spiritual people I've known throughout my life, understandably, go for The Mural. It’s user-friendly. It so often comes your way via a smiling salesperson. It looks awesome in photos. And the Abyss? Well, it doesn’t even come with a warranty, and what passes for customer support is literally just... deafening, frustrating silence.

But here’s the thing about The Mural. It might sound like the better deal at first, but sometimes the paint peels. Sometimes it outright cracks on a level that's impossible to ignore, and you realize you’ve been staring at drywall this whole time. 

And when that happens, the Abyss is still waiting for you there, like that one weird friend you have who doesn’t text back for six months but will almost certainly show up at 2 AM when your life falls apart.

The Mural Option: Comfort at a Price

Like I said, The Mural has its perks. It’s safe. It’s predictable. It tells you what to think and how to live. And if I'm honest, that can be really appealing when the world feels like a dumpster fire (and when doesn't it). The Mural will never look at you and shrug before saying, “We don’t know what happens when you die.” And it has this very nice brochure with diagrams, thank you very much.

But comfort isn’t free. The cost of The Mural is your human curiosity. It’s your right to ask the kind of questions that don’t have quick, well-packaged answers. It’s the muscle of critical thinking, which atrophies if you don’t use it. And if you do start poking at the moldy corners and the little patches of peeling paint, you will almost certainly find yourself shamed back into line. 

In other words, The Mural is lovely until you notice how very fragile it truly is.

The Abyss Option: Uncomfortable but Honest

The Abyss absolutely does not care about your comfort. It's not going to hug you when you’re scared. It won’t hand you a pamphlet while silently smiling at you through kind eyes. It’s just kind of... there, dark and deep, refusing to make things easy for you or anyone else.

And yet, The Abyss is honest. It doesn’t sell you answers that it can’t back up. When you face it directly, something shifts, even if you're not immediately sure of what. You realize that uncertainty isn’t death but... possibility. You discover that awe can indeed coexist with terror. You may even realize eventually that sometimes they’re the same thing.

The Abyss teaches you resilience, forcing you to build meaning with your own hands instead of waiting for someone to spoon-feed it to you. And it forces you to decide what’s worth living for, not because someone promised you heaven points, but because you’ve looked into the darkness and chosen anyway.

The Architect's Abyss – Rendered by the author in Midjourney

Why Most People Choose the Mural

At the end of the day, it’s truly not that hard to see why The Mural wins the popularity contest:

• Community baked in: People like being part of something bigger. Potlucks and choirs scratch a very real human itch for that reason.
• Answers in bulk: No need to wrestle with cosmic uncertainty when you’ve got neat explanations.
• Emotional safety: Fear is exhausting. The Mural comforts you by saying, “Don’t worry, it’s all handled.”

And honestly, not everyone wants to sit up all night debating the nature of consciousness, and I get that all too well. Some people are perfectly happy with the alternative, and that’s perfectly fine. Until they weaponize it. Once personal comfort morphs into control tactics aimed at other people – once “my mural makes me feel safe” becomes “you’re evil for not choosing the same mural” – that’s when things get ugly.

What to Do If the Mural Isn't Cutting It

If you're anything like me, then you're probably one of those people who can’t stop noticing the cracks, even when you try. Maybe you want more to lean on than wallpaper pasted over the void. Maybe something in you actually does want to face the infinite dark and see what’s really there. If that sounds familiar, here are a few things that might help.

Start small 

You don’t have to throw yourself headlong into nihilism. Just sit with one hard question at a time. “What if meaning isn’t given but created?” “What if uncertainty is normal?” Journal it out. Make art about it. Whatever helps you come to a conclusion that works for you.

Find your own rituals

Humans need rhythm, no matter what they do or don't believe in. So, if you don’t want prefab ceremonies (and I know I don't), create your own. Light a candle, walk in the woods, draw cards, spend a few minutes each day in quiet prayer or meditation, whatever feels anchoring to you.

Seek honest voices

Read a lot and from a variety of different people. Mystics, philosophers, poets. People who weren’t afraid of mystery. Rumi, Simone Weil, Camus, the gnostics. They’re like fellow climbers leaving handholds on a cliff when you're a seeker out there searching for a little bit of truth.

Embrace community in other forms

You don’t have to do things alone unless that's sincerely how you prefer things. The internet, local groups, or even one or two like-minded friends can make the journey a lot less isolating. I prefer a middle ground between community and solitude, myself.

Laugh about it

Seriously, trust me when I say you really need to. Because if you can’t joke about staring into the void, the void wins by default. Humor keeps you human.

So Which Should You Choose?

That's not really a question I can answer for you or even want to answer for you, because I truly believe people need to choose for themselves. But here’s my bare-bones review of each of these options, as I understand them after years of exploring both, one after the other:

• The Mural™: Great for comfort, community, and stability. Less great if you like peeling back illusions.
• The Abyss™: Terrifying, inconvenient, and full of silence. But also brimming with freedom, authenticity, and the possibility of discovering truth that’s actually yours.

Most people will keep buying The Mural, and that’s perfectly fine. It's certainly one way to navigate your way through the unfathomable. 

But for those who feel the tug of The Abyss, who are tired of polite answers and shrink-wrapped spirituality, there’s another path. It sadly doesn't come with a warranty, but it does come with wings you didn’t know you had until you stood at the edge. 

If you want ease, buy The Mural. But if you want truth, even if the thought of it also makes you shit your pants a little, face The Abyss. Just know that once you’ve seen the cracks in the paint, it’s almost impossible to unsee them ever again.

And maybe that’s the point.