By Dr. Adnan Bouzan

At the heart of the existential maze, where man intersects with his most radical questions, emerges the most painful paradox in the history of thought: How can reason—presumed to be an instrument of liberation—turn into a shackle? How can freedom—which we celebrate as the pinnacle of human consciousness—be reduced to logical formulas, rational rules, and epistemic conjectures incapable of reaching the essence of being? Here, we are not merely addressing the classical question of freedom as the ability to choose, but rather diving into the obscure depths of the idea that true freedom, in its authentic sense, is a revolt against the very illusion of understanding—against reason itself when it transforms into a gilded cage.

Classical philosophy has long placed reason at the forefront of human existence, glorifying it as the sole means of understanding reality, constructing knowledge, and defining selfhood. Yet existential thought, in its most profound manifestations, has come to overturn this trajectory. Existence—as an infinite flux, a mutable presence that knows no stability—transcends all rational attempts to grasp or represent it. Reason, by its structural and methodological nature, seeks to reduce being to concepts, to turn life into equations, and meaning into definitions. In doing so, does it betray existence itself? Does reason become a subtle authority, stripping being of its authenticity under the guise of explanation?

From this perspective, freedom is no longer the “rational capacity” that modern man prides himself on, but a moment of rebellion against the very logic of reason. It is a moment when existence reveals itself to the human without intermediaries, without theoretical masks or conceptual frameworks. Freedom is not about choosing between options, but escaping the very necessity imposed by the system of choices. It is the capacity to be—not according to what reason dictates, but as revealed by the raw flow of existence.

Here lies the essential shift in philosophy’s question: from “How do I think?” to “Can I exist outside of what I think?” Existence is not a cognitive object subject to measurement or analysis by reason; it is a transcendent experience woven of tension, nothingness, and paradox. Man, in the midst of this tension, is not merely a rational being but one torn between the need to understand and the desire to break free from understanding.

Philosophy, when it touches the limits of existence, becomes itself an existential act—not merely a theoretical pursuit. When we contemplate the relationship between reason and freedom, the question is no longer: “Am I free because I am rational?” but rather: “Can I be free only if I liberate myself from the dominion of reason?” This is the existential dilemma—the paradox that compels us to reexamine the great concepts: that reason is not always our refuge, and that freedom might dwell in madness, poetry, dreams, silence, and in the longing for what cannot be said.

What we write here is not a philosophy of reason, but a philosophy beyond reason—a philosophy that peers from the windows of being into the storm, and listens to the trembling of man as he stands naked before the unknown. Our task is not to grant reason a new throne, but to expose its old dominion—to restore wonder to its rightful place, and to give the first shiver its due truth. Man is not reducible to his thinking or consciousness, but rather to that silence that inhabits him when all answers fade, and to that freedom born from the ashes of meaning. When we write, we are not building a bridge for reason toward certainty, but opening a crack in the wall—one that reveals the abyss of meaning, allowing us to confess: we are not merely rational beings, but fractured, rebellious creatures, resisting definition. We write for the human who refuses to be a mental image or a logical formula—for the one who, facing the vast unknown, declares: “I will not be what reason thinks of alone, but what chaos, death, longing, and rupture inspire me to become.”

This is where our journey begins: from the moment reason falls from its throne, from its confession of limitation, and from that primal cry whispered in the dark: “I am human... and I am not a final form.”

What we seek is not an answer, but the distance between the question and the longing, between thought and the scar, where meaning is born not from completeness but from its impossibility. We do not craft a doctrine or carve out a theory—we listen to the cosmic groaning within the heart of man when old meaning collapses and the new is yet unborn. In this chasm—between what reason can articulate and what the tongue cannot translate—we are born: as post-rational philosophers, as priests of a mystery with no temple. We do not yearn for truth as a final image, but live within its fragments—within the rupture that reveals the fragility of every certainty. The philosophy we write is not a quest for perfection, but a resistance to it, for perfection is the idol of reason, and we are here to shatter idols.

We live in the moment when the question breaks upon the rock of existence, and we feel the mad yearning to be—not what we understand, but what we feel, what we dream, and what we fear. This is not a call for irrationality, but for a deeper freedom: the freedom to exist outside the system, outside the equation, outside what we are expected to be. We are witnesses to humanity as it traverses the desert of meaning, with tearful eyes and a heart that still, despite everything, believes that there is wisdom in the wandering.

In my view, philosophy that stops at reason is like a mirror that reflects only the familiar; but philosophy that goes beyond reason is a window opening onto the storm. Man is not merely mind—he is a complex existential experience, full of fear, desire, rupture, and hope. True human freedom begins when one admits their vulnerability—not to surrender to it, but to redefine oneself beyond what reason dictates, and beyond what logic justifies. In this space, man is born anew—as a free being, bounded only by existence itself.

First: The Concept of Being in Existential Philosophy

• What is the definition of "being" in existential philosophy?
  • How did existential philosophy approach the idea of “existence precedes essence”?
  • Being as Becoming: How does existentialism portray being as a dynamic process?
  • The relationship between individual and collective being in the philosophies of Sartre and Heidegger.

At the heart of existential philosophy, the concept of being occupies a central position, intersecting with nearly every other philosophical question. One cannot understand the human being in its philosophical context without beginning from the fundamental inquiry into “being.” Unlike traditional philosophies that attempted to explain existence through notions such as substance or essence, existentialism challenges these interpretations through the concept of existence precedes essence—a principle that asserts that human existence comes first, and it is through one’s actions and choices that one defines their essence.

In this context, the existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre contends that the human being has no fixed essence that defines it from the outset. Rather, the human is a being who continuously creates itself through the exercise of freedom and choice. For Sartre, being means “to exist” before “becoming” something defined. From this stems the existential tension between being and reason, as being cannot be confined to mental constructs or preconceived ideas; it is a lived, practical, and ever-renewing experience that eludes complete rational explanation. Being is not a fixed or abstract state that can be grasped by the intellect, but an ongoing process—a becoming—that resists reduction to any single model or framework.

Similarly, the German existentialist Martin Heidegger introduces another fundamental understanding of being through the concept of being-in-the-world. He emphasizes that human beings cannot understand themselves or their existence apart from the world they inhabit. Heidegger asserts that the human is a being-with, not merely a being-in the world as traditional philosophies propose. For him, being is not merely a mental or abstract idea, but a real presence in the world—where self-exploration and the realization of meaning take place.

This notion highlights that being is not a stable, intellectual construct, but is rather in a state of continuous openness and renewal. Being, in existentialist thought, is not something that can be easily captured or grasped—it is a constant struggle between what we know about ourselves and what we discover about ourselves through our lived experience in the world.

Therefore, existential philosophy offers a new lens through which to understand being—not as a fixed or rationally explainable state, but as a living, fluid condition. It is an invitation to explore being not through rigid intellectual systems, but through direct human experience, where one expresses their self freely, without the constraints of traditional rational thought.

• What is the definition of being in existential philosophy?

In existential philosophy, being is not understood as something fixed or essential, but rather as a continuous state of lived experience. In this framework, the concept of being is not merely an objective state that can be easily identified or categorized; instead, it is a personal and lived experience in which the individual is confronted with questions of existence and destiny. Existentialism does not aim to analyze being through fixed essences or rigid rational laws; rather, it asserts that the human being encounters being as it is—without relying on prior conceptions or external standards.

Jean-Paul Sartre defines being as the ongoing realization of the self through free choices and actions. In his view, a person is not born with a predefined essence, but rather "exists" first, and only later becomes something defined. This means that the human being exists before knowing who they are—they are not a completed entity but an ongoing project in the making. The existential human, therefore, is not simply a natural being but one who constantly creates themselves through action and decision.

In Heidegger’s philosophy, being is understood through the notion of being-in-the-world. Being cannot be grasped apart from the world we live in; the human does not exist in an intellectual vacuum, but is always in interaction with the material and social world. For Heidegger, being is actual presence, not merely a concept or idea to be isolated. Hence, his concept of being reflects a continuous interplay between the individual and the world, between the being of the self and the being of others. Being is never something knowable in isolation, but always tied to the context in which the individual exists.

• How did existentialist philosophy deal with the idea of "existence precedes essence"?

The idea of "existence precedes essence" is one of the core concepts that existentialist philosophy helped to highlight. This idea rests on the distinction between essence—which is determined by fixed laws or concepts—and existence, which precedes such determination. For Sartre, this idea means that human beings do not exist as predefined or essential beings, but rather come into existence without a predetermined essence. Essence does not define the human being; instead, it is the individual who defines it through their actions and choices. In other words, the human being is not a creature known in advance, but a being that becomes and forms itself over time.

Existentialism aims to liberate the individual from the idea of "metaphysical determinism" imposed by social, cultural, or ideological values. If the human being is born with a predetermined essence, as traditional philosophers suggest, then they remain bound by it throughout their life. However, in Sartre’s philosophy, the individual is defined through personal actions and creates their own meaning. The idea of "existence before essence" here represents a kind of philosophical revolution that calls for liberation from ready-made identities and encourages the construction of the self.

• Existence as Becoming: How does existentialism represent existence as a changing process?

In existentialist philosophy, existence is understood as an endless process of change and evolution, far removed from the traditional understanding of existence as something fixed or already complete. Existence is not static; it is a constant motion toward the self and a continuous liberation from constraints. This concept allows the individual to view themselves as perpetually incomplete, facing the unknown and living in a constant state of possibility and transformation.

Existentialist philosophy regards human beings as the only beings aware of their own existence. Through this awareness, a person can choose how to be in the world. The process of becoming means that the human being evolves and changes continuously according to what they choose to become, which contradicts the idea of fixity. Freedom, here, is the foundation of existence and its definition. Pain, doubt, and isolation are inseparable parts of this process, as the individual constantly faces fundamental questions about themselves, the meaning of life, and how they ought to live.

The concept of becoming in existentialist thought reflects an image of a human being who never finishes exploring themselves. This is embodied in the ideas of Sartre and Heidegger. While Sartre views existence as a continuous project and believes that humans can only be understood through their actions and decisions, Heidegger sees the human as a "being in time"—existing in a specific moment and always open to the future.

• The relationship between individual and collective existence in the philosophies of Sartre and Heidegger

Existentialist philosophy is not merely a contemplation of individual existence but also sheds light on the relationship between the individual, others, and collective existence. In Sartre’s view, the relationship between individual and collective existence is examined through the concept of "the gaze" or "the look imposed by the other." For Sartre, each individual is a project realized through interaction with others, deriving meaning and identity through the gaze of the other. This interactive relationship leads to what Sartre famously called "hell is other people," where the individual feels isolated and burdened by the social constraints imposed by others.

Heidegger, on the other hand, approaches individual existence through the concept of "being-with-others." In his view, one cannot understand the individual apart from their society and the world they inhabit. In his philosophy, the human is inherently social and cannot become themselves in isolation from others. Although Heidegger places great emphasis on individual existence, he stresses that a person cannot be fully understood except through their deep relationships with others and the world.

In short, while Sartre emphasizes the individual’s isolation and the struggle between self and others, portraying freedom as a burden thrown upon the solitary self in a meaningless world, Heidegger offers a more nuanced view of existence—where the self is not understood in isolation but through its engagement in a shared existence. For Heidegger, the human is not an isolated subject facing the absurdity of the world but is Dasein—a being-in-the-world whose existence is only realized through openness to others and the possibilities offered by shared presence in time and space.

For Heidegger, existence is not an inner, silent experience but a relation, a disclosure, a constant lack of stability, and a continual revelation of the unknown. In this framework, the Other is not hell, as Sartre sees it, but a necessary condition for understanding the self. The Other is not a threat to my freedom but a mirror of my existence—the one who awakens me from my oblivion and grants me the chance to see myself as I cannot alone. Thus, existence shifts from being an individual struggle to a shared existential event, where the self opens to the world not to be dissolved but to deepen its understanding of itself as part of a greater whole that can only be perceived through encounter and even confrontation with other beings.

In this concept, freedom is not merely an individual choice in a vacuum but an authentic act that stems from awareness of time, death, and responsibility toward the self, the other, and the world. Heidegger thus provides existentialist philosophy with its deep ontological roots, making the encounter with the other a foundational moment for the self—not a threat to it.

From this perspective, human existence for Heidegger is not merely a subjective experience, but a continual disclosure in the horizon of the There (Dasein), which exists only as engaged in the world and with others. The human being is not first in a world and then enters into it, but is born in the heart of this engagement: in language, culture, time, and existential anxiety that cannot be separated from the presence of the other. While Sartre sees the other as depriving me of my freedom through their gaze—reducing me to an object in their world—Heidegger sees that the encounter with the other does not negate the self, but awakens it from the illusion of complete independence, revealing that the self is not a self-sufficient "I" but a "we" formed over time and through openness.

The Other, in this context, is not an adversary but a sign that existence is not isolation, but a network of possibilities that can only be completed through openness and responsiveness. The self is not defined solely by what it chooses, but also by what it opens up to and receives—as a possibility to become more than it assumes. Here, freedom transcends its traditional meaning as individual choice to become an existential act born from awareness of shared being. For this reason, Heidegger does not seek solutions in the conflict between "I" and "Other," but invites us to reflect on the silent depth between us, on the experiences that are not said, but lived. It is there, in that silent depth, that meaning is rebuilt—not on the ruins of the self, but through its expansion.

Second: Reason and the Understanding of Being

• How does reason define existence? And is reason capable of understanding being?
• The relationship between consciousness and reason in existential philosophy: is reason able to grasp existence as a whole?
• The existential critique of rationality: is reason a betrayer of being?
• Can reason establish a fixed framework for understanding in light of the ever-changing nature of existence?

The moment humanity was granted the capacity for thought, its long struggle with existence began. From its very inception, reason has been the tool through which humans have sought to comprehend the vast, ever-shifting, and elusive reality they inhabit. Yet this tool—despite its powers of analysis and synthesis—has never been truly neutral or sufficient for grasping the deep meaning of existence. This is precisely where my philosophical questioning begins: Is reason a means for understanding being, or a constraint that limits its spontaneity and openness? Can reason truly grasp a reality that transcends language, logic, and pattern?

Philosophical thought, especially in its intersection with existentialism, poses this question with profound skepticism. Reason—as conceived by Descartes and Kant—was built to impose order, construct systems, and present a representation of the world governed by laws. But existence, as I see it, is not a system. It is flux, tension, becoming, and constant paradox. With every attempt by reason to explain it, some part of existence slips through its fingers, retreating into obscurity—as if what we try to grasp through reason is precisely what cannot be grasped by it.

Existentialism, especially in Heidegger's thought, transcends traditional rationality which views being as an object of knowledge. Heidegger makes a clear distinction between "being" and "beings," showing how the question of being itself was forgotten in the history of philosophy in favor of more easily rationalized questions. For Sartre, reason is not negated but recontextualized within the project of freedom. It is a tool, yes, but not the supreme authority over the domains of human experience. It cannot claim to possess the whole truth. Hence, in the authentic existential experience, human beings do not understand existence through reason alone, but also through their anxiety, freedom, hesitation, and awareness of their openness to nothingness.

Thus, I see reason not as the gateway to understanding existence, but merely one of its gateways—perhaps the one most suitable for understanding structure and quantity, but not sufficient to grasp "being," or "becoming," or "transcendence of the self." Understanding being requires openness to intuition, will, and even silence—more than it requires proof or analysis. It is like trying to grasp light in the fog: the closer we approach it with the eye of reason, the more it dissolves into a density of unspeakable meaning.

This paradox is what makes the relationship between reason and existence one of the most complex dilemmas of philosophical inquiry—not because we are incapable of understanding, but because we are trying to comprehend a reality that transcends us with a tool that originates from within us. So, is the solution to liberate reason from the illusion of sufficiency? Or to recognize that being is too deep to be fully understood? With this question, I begin my inquiry into the relationship between reason and being—not to answer, but to deepen the question itself.

Reason: A Tool of Knowledge or a Constraint on Freedom?

Since the inception of Western metaphysics, philosophical tradition has revered reason as the supreme instrument for uncovering truth, the means by which humanity reaches into the world and understands its laws and dimensions. From Plato to Kant, reason was placed at the center of existence, endowed with authority nearly equivalent to that of the divine. Yet, from my perspective—and in line with the existentialist view with which I find myself aligned—reason is not always this neutral instrument that leads to freedom. On the contrary, it may be a mechanism of control, a conceptual prison, a veil over the free unfolding of existence.

In its persistent quest for order and explanation, reason turns being into models, into objects, into "essence." But being, as I understand it, is not a fixed essence to be captured. It is motion, openness, and perpetual transformation. Reason, then, does not comprehend being; it codifies it, drains it of its living vitality, and turns it into a repeatable, classifiable "concept." Hence the great paradox emerges: reason, which is supposed to grant humans knowledge and freedom, may itself be what deprives them of freely engaging in the unfolding of existence.

In this context, we observe how, in modernity, reason became synonymous with power—it became the standard by which humans measure themselves and others, and a means of excluding what cannot be understood or categorized by its strict norms. When humans are compelled to be "rational," they are denied that spontaneous existential eruption which surpasses reason itself—something Kierkegaard alludes to when he insists that faith or the existential leap cannot be explained or contained by reason.

Likewise, Sartre shows that freedom is not a result of reason but emerges from the nothingness that dwells within consciousness—from the human ability to negate what one is. Here, reason does not create freedom; it may actually constrain it, especially if consciousness is forced into rigid logical frameworks that deny the possible. For Heidegger, reason is a tool for "calculation," but it is not a path to "authentic being," which cannot be understood through definitions but only through "listening."

Thus, my philosophical question does not aim to reject reason, but to expose its tyranny when it becomes inflated—when it imposes itself as the sole criterion for understanding. I do not believe that humans achieve liberation through reason, but through going beyond it—when they realize that what cannot be reasoned might be more truthful than what is shaped within molds of logic and argument. Freedom is not a product of reason, but a moment of awareness that transcends it—a realization that we can be, despite everything reason tells us we must be.

How does reason define existence? And is it capable of understanding being?

Reason, according to classical philosophical traditions, is the faculty of definition and understanding—the tool of codification and classification, the light that dispels the darkness of ignorance, to use Descartes' phrase. But this conception, which elevates reason to the status of master and sovereign, overlooks a fundamental dimension of the human relationship with existence: that being is not something that can be defined—it is motion, transformation, and revelation. Being, as I see it, cannot be encompassed or reduced to ready-made rational definitions. It is not an external, neutral object, but a field of engagement, becoming, and lived experience.

When reason tries to define existence, it flattens its meaning. Every definition is a kind of exclusion, a negation of other possibilities—a freezing of the flowing moment of being into a fixed image. Thus, the question "Can reason understand existence?" becomes a more tragic one: "Can reason understand except by destroying the being it tries to grasp?"

Heidegger, in his critique of Western philosophy, argued that it had forgotten "the question of Being" because it was always preoccupied with "the essence of beings," not with "that there is being at all." This slip is the product of a reason that seeks control—a reason that cannot tolerate ambiguity—while being only reveals itself to those who listen, not to those who codify. Hence, reason cannot understand being if it clings to its closed logic. In fact, it has no right to claim understanding unless it frees itself from its drive for control and explanation.

The Relationship Between Consciousness and Reason in Existential Philosophy: Can Reason Grasp Being as a Whole?

Consciousness and reason are not identical in existential philosophy—they are distinct dimensions of the human experience of the world. Consciousness, in my view, is an openness to the world—a perpetual tension between self and other, between what is and what could be. Reason, by contrast, is the logical apparatus that organizes this openness, codifies it, and subjects it to the laws of consistency and inference.

Sartre distinguishes between "consciousness-for-itself" and "consciousness-in-itself," asserting that free consciousness cannot be imprisoned within the categories of reason. Consciousness constantly transcends itself—it negates what it is. For this reason, reason, which tends toward stability and analysis, cannot grasp being as a whole, because the whole cannot be reduced to rational fragmentation.

Reason, from this perspective, is incapable of seizing totality because it understands through detachment, through distance. Consciousness, however, is an experience of entanglement and involvement in the world—not separation and analysis. Reason sees only what the spotlight illuminates, but being hides, evades, manifests in experience—in anxiety, in love, in death—not in logical definitions.

So, can reason grasp being as a whole? No—because the whole can only be grasped existentially, in moments of radical disclosure, not through conceptual maps. Thus, the relationship between consciousness and being does not pass through reason, but unfolds outside it—or perhaps even in spite of it...

Third: Freedom in Existentialist Philosophy

• How is the concept of freedom embodied in existentialist philosophy?
  • Freedom as a complex notion: is it merely the ability to choose, or something deeper?
  • The relationship between freedom and existence: is freedom the essence of existence or its manifestation?
  • Freedom as liberation from mental constraints: can freedom mean escaping reason itself?

At the heart of existentialist philosophy pulses the idea of freedom—not as a theoretical concept or political option, but as the very essence of what it means to be human. It is not a granted privilege, nor a latent potential awaiting favorable conditions; it is an ontological burden, an inescapable destiny, and a fate from which one can only flee by betraying the self. From this angle, freedom does not merely mean "to choose," but "to exist" as a continuous act of choice, a perpetual motion of transcendence, questioning, and creation in a world that offers no guarantees beyond ourselves.

Existentialist thought shattered metaphysical constructs that separated humans from their actions, essence from existence, will from fate. As Sartre famously declared: “Existence precedes essence,” man is no longer a being pre-defined by divine law or a fixed human nature, but an open project, determined moment by moment. In this vision, freedom is not a moral virtue—it is existence itself in its exposure. It is being, clothed in consciousness.

But this freedom is not bliss or assurance—it is deep anxiety and the bitter weight of responsibility. In Sartre’s view, man is “condemned to be free,” meaning that freedom does not simply imply emancipation from constraint, but that everything one is and does belongs solely to oneself—without escape, without consolation. It stands in stark contrast to liberal or modern conceptions of freedom built on rights and choices; here, freedom is a radical existential experience that demands the courage to engage with the unknown.

Whereas rationalist philosophy regarded freedom as the result of knowledge or the fruit of enlightenment, existentialism returns freedom to its primal root: to the human being facing nothingness, time, death, alienation, and absurdity. When no one dictates what we must do, when values themselves become questionable, we are left with nothing but to create ourselves, to invent our standards in the silence of the cosmos—not by imitating systems, but by confronting moral emptiness and filling it with a truth that stems from within.

Thus, freedom in existentialist philosophy becomes not only possible, but necessary—an inescapable imperative whose denial is tantamount to betraying one's own being, becoming a "herd creature," a "post-human," a lie wrapped in comfort without essence. In this sense, freedom is not something we possess—it is what we are.

How does existentialist philosophy understand freedom? Is it choice? A burden? A mode of being?
I believe that, from the existentialist perspective, freedom is not an act of free will—it is the primal truth of human existence. It is not a decision made after reflection, but the first cry of the conscious being thrown into the world without guidance or predefined essence. Freedom is not a choice—it is the precondition of choice.

Sartre leaves no room for escape: man is “condemned to be free,” not because some authority forces him into freedom, but because the absence of external reference—religious, natural, or moral—confronts him with himself. Human existence is a free project, and any evasion of this truth is a fall into bad faith. Therefore, I see freedom not as a “thing” we possess, but as what we always are—an openness to infinite possibilities, yet a field of inescapable moral responsibility.

Freedom and responsibility: Why does existentialism view freedom as an inescapable responsibility?
In my view, what makes freedom frightening is its intrinsic tie to responsibility. Existentialism leaves no room for hiding behind social, psychological, or environmental excuses. Freedom is not just a capacity for action—it is a responsibility for the meaning of existence itself. My freedom means I alone am accountable for my life, for the values I adopt, for the choices that reveal who I am.

When one chooses, they do not choose merely for themselves, but for all humanity, as Sartre said. This is the gravity of freedom: every decision is an implicit declaration of a worldview, a vision of humanity, a possibility of being. Hence, I see fear of freedom as fear of acknowledging that we are the source of everything in our lives, and that the world we live in is the result of our choices—or our evasion of choice.

Can one speak of freedom in a meaningless world? Is freedom practiced within the absurd or against it?
Here, I meet Albert Camus, but I go beyond him. Absurdity, as I understand it, is not the opposite of freedom but the stage upon which freedom reveals its truth. When man discovers that the world offers no ready-made meaning, freedom becomes not just a possibility but an ethical and philosophical necessity. To be free in a meaningless world means to be the one who gives meaning—to be a creator of meaning at the heart of nothingness.

I do not see absurdity as an invitation to nihilism, but as liberated ground cleared of metaphysics, where freedom can manifest without justification. Freedom here becomes an act of continuous creation—not against the absurd, but through it, by silently transcending it, by transforming it into art.

How is freedom connected to anxiety and alienation? Is free existence always painful?
Freedom is not comfort. Freedom is anxiety. The more free a person becomes, the deeper their sense of uncertainty and estrangement. Why? Because the free individual cannot lean on any external authority—not on tradition, not on God, not on an assumed human nature. They decide alone and live with the consequences.

At the peak of freedom, one feels like an exile in the world, even a stranger to oneself, unsure whether their choices are right, or whether they matter at all. Thus, anxiety becomes the companion of freedom—not as weakness, but as a sign of authentic existential experience. Alienation, likewise, becomes inevitable when one tries to be oneself in a world that demands conformity, consumption, and replication. In this context, freedom is not merely resistance—it is the act of continual self-birth in the face of total alienation.

1- How is the concept of freedom embodied in existentialist philosophy?
At the heart of existentialism, freedom is not understood as a mere abstract concept, but as a lived experience, a condition of existence, a profound responsibility. Freedom is not a commodity to be demanded from the outside, nor a fleeting psychological state, but the most authentic essence of human existence when thrown into the world without blueprint or predetermined essence. We are free not because we have the "right" to choose, but because we are cast into being and forced to give ourselves meaning—to create ourselves out of nothingness.

In my view, freedom is not something embodied from the outside, but something revealed from within the existential experience, when one realizes that no one else is responsible for shaping their truth. Here, freedom is embodied not in slogans, but in pain, in anxiety, in the courage to pursue meaning amid the silence of existence.

Sartre expressed this idea when he said: “Man is nothing but what he makes of himself.” But I go further: man is not only what he makes—he is what he fails to escape: from a freedom he cannot abandon, because it follows him like a mirror that does not break.

2- Freedom as a complex concept: is it merely the ability to choose, or something deeper?
Defining freedom as the “ability to choose” is a reductionist simplification—it diminishes the depth of existential experience. I do not see freedom as a mere ability to pick between options, but as a metaphysical awareness of the very act of choosing—and of the fact that existence offers no predetermined end, and that we alone carry the burden of meaning.

True freedom—as I see it—is realizing that you alone are responsible for transforming every coincidence, every failure, every fleeting moment into a being with weight, with impact. Freedom is not just “choice”—it is a constant exposure to the question: “What will I become now?”—and there is no escape from answering.

Thus, freedom is complex because it is both an existential and epistemological tragedy: it allows you to build yourself, yet strips you of all external justification. That is why the sense of freedom is always accompanied by sharp anxiety and spiritual exposure, as Kierkegaard described—not because of freedom itself, but because it unveils our fragility in the face of the void.

Fourth: The Tension Between Reason and Freedom

• Can freedom be a manifestation of chaos? And what role does reason play in organizing this chaos?
• Freedom within the boundaries of reason: How is freedom guided within a defined rational structure?
• Free existence: Can boundless existence be achieved only when humans transcend the limits of reason?

Ever since humans became aware of their existence as self-conscious beings, a hidden struggle has unfolded within them between two forces that meet only to contradict: reason as structure, and freedom as openness. Both dwell at the heart of being, yet one seeks construction, organization, and explanation, while the other longs for escape, release, and transcendence. This tension is not merely an epistemological dilemma—it is, in fact, the core of modern humanity’s existential tragedy: How can a self remain free in a world that constantly demands it to be rational?

In this context, reason is no longer the motor of freedom; it often becomes its adversary. Every attempt by reason to tighten its grip on the world—to turn existence into a logical, comprehensible, and controllable system—is countered by freedom’s opposing desire: to break borders, to reject frameworks, to say no to what is predetermined.

In my view, this tension is not accidental, but essential to the nature of human existence: we are born with a mind that strives to understand, and a freedom that refuses to be fully understood. We are rational when we interpret the world, and existential when we rebel against it. The relationship between reason and freedom thus resembles a Hegelian dialectic: freedom evolves through its conflict with reason, and reason transcends itself only when it confronts the limits of its authority in the face of untamable freedom.

In this chapter, we will explore the structural tension between reason and freedom, starting from this internal rupture within the human being: Can reason contain freedom without suffocating it? And can freedom remain genuine without turning against reason itself? Could this tension be the secret of being—not its flaw?

Here, questions are not posed as premises for conclusions, but as open wounds bleeding meaning into every act of reflection.

Can Freedom Be a Manifestation of Chaos? And What Role Does Reason Play in Organizing This Chaos?
It is natural to initially perceive freedom as the opposite of order, perhaps even as a threat to it—hence, it is often misunderstood as chaos. But what does chaos mean in this context? It is not merely the absence of order or regulatory laws; rather, it is an infinite openness to possibility—a refusal to reduce the self to a single rational scheme or to shape life according to a predefined rhythm.

In my view, freedom—as it unfolds in existential experience—is not submission to a particular system, but rather the explosion of consciousness in the face of determinism. However, when left unaccompanied by awareness, it can indeed turn into actual chaos: a collapse of meaning, a plunge into absurdity, and rebellion without direction.

Here, reason steps in—not as a jailer, but as a potential companion. It tries to organize this overwhelming flow, not to choke it, but to grant it direction. The role of reason, in this regard, is not to suppress freedom, but to guide it without domesticating it. Existential thought does not abolish reason but critiques its authority when it claims to understand everything—including freedom itself.

So yes, freedom may first appear as chaos—a raw existential material still searching for form. But reason, if it relinquishes its authoritarian tendencies, can become a sculptor rather than a warden—shaping this chaos in ways that do not exclude its possibilities, but give it voice amid the noise of meaninglessness.

Freedom Within the Boundaries of Reason: How Is Freedom Guided Within a Defined Rational Structure?
If we accept that freedom is not negated by entering the domain of reason, can we then say it is guided and refined within its framework? Yes—but at an existential cost. When freedom is practiced within the limits of reason, it loses something of its original fire. It ceases to be the freedom of refusal, rebellion, and uncertainty, and becomes the freedom of choice within a system.

In this model, the human becomes a being that exercises freedom as if solving a mathematical equation—balancing, calculating consequences, choosing between alternatives. But is this the essence of freedom as understood by existentialism? Certainly not. Sartre rejected this rationalistic interpretation, insisting that freedom cannot be measured by our ability to choose between “A” and “B”—it is the very core of our existence, our inescapable responsibility for ourselves.

Heidegger too does not view freedom as a purely rational operation, but as an “unconcealment” of being—a state of openness to existential possibilities that reason alone cannot grasp.

Thus, I believe that directing freedom within a rational structure is not a mistake in itself, but it constitutes a form of “false reassurance.” It relieves the self of the burden of the abyss, but it also strips it of depth. Regulated freedom is not existential freedom—it is a diluted version, a tamed freedom tailored to the norms of society, logic, and expectation.

Free Existence: Can Boundless Existence Be Achieved Only When Humans Transcend the Limits of Reason?
In the deepest layers of our existential experience, we sense that what we seek from life is not to understand it, but to dissolve into it—to live within its current without trying to confine it within comprehension. Reason, no matter how vast its tools, remains confined to language, concepts, and definitions—while existence, in all its violence, beauty, and mystery, effortlessly transcends these barriers.

And here I affirm: achieving free existence requires the transcendence—not the negation—of reason. When humans stop attempting to reduce the world to mental constructs, they begin to experience existence as it is: fluid, shifting, contradictory.

Freedom here is not about choosing within a rational system, but about dwelling in the undefined—living without guarantees, without final standards that govern everything. This is what Kierkegaard meant by the leap of faith: a moment that surpasses reason without abolishing it, emerging from within, from faith in freedom as the essence of being—not merely a tool for action.

Thus, free existence becomes the authentic realization of being—not when one understands the self within a closed cognitive system, but when that system itself breaks open, allowing being to speak in other languages—languages deeper than reason and closer to the essence of human experience: the language of overflowing feeling, of pain that disrupts meaning, of confusion that assaults certainty, and of openness to uncertainty as liberation from false stability.

In this horizon, freedom is no longer just the ability to choose between given alternatives, but an act of rebellion against the authority of interpretation itself—a celebration of the moment as it is, not as it ought to be.

Here, the human is not free because they possess a theoretical concept of freedom, but because they live it—with all its paradox, contradiction, and weight. Freedom, in this context, is not light or comfortable; it is heavy, disorienting—it shatters ready-made paths and forces the being to question everything, including itself. It is a call to a life without maps, without pre-made molds—a life that cannot be repeated, because each moment in it is singular, unlike any other. In this manifestation, freedom becomes not merely an existential state, but a way of being—a way that refuses to be reduced, imprisoned, or framed, insisting instead on remaining open to the unexpected, to the authentic.

This is the human when they are truly free—not to dominate existence, but to listen to it, and let it speak in its own language: the language of wounds and wonder, of breaking and longing, of what cannot be said, and cannot be analyzed… only lived.

And in this free living lies the essence of true freedom—freedom that transcends concepts of control or possession, where the human is no longer a separate actor imposing their will on the world, but a living, responsive part of life’s very rhythm. Here, freedom means being with existence—not as masters dictating its course, but as fellow travelers feeling their way through shadow and light, where all fixed certainties dissolve, and the present moment becomes the horizon from which meaning arises. In this shedding of the need to dominate, the human becomes real—deeply aware of their responsibility for their choices, not bound by external constraints, but choosing their boundaries consciously and sincerely. This surpasses the classical divide between self and world, transforming existence into a continuous act of encounter and renewal.

Fifth: Existence as an Open Becoming

• The Notion of Becoming in Existential Philosophy: How is existence understood as an open, limitless process?
  • Existence as a Continuous Adventure: How does existential philosophy deal with the idea that existence never settles at a fixed point?
  • How can reason deal with existence in its ongoing becoming? Is the mind aware of this flow?

Existence is not a static state that can be fully grasped or captured as a final concept; rather, it is a perpetual openness to possibility—a continuous becoming that never stabilizes into a definitive form or freezes into an essence. This idea, which I adopt and make central to my vision of existence, resonates deeply with existential philosophy, which rejects reducing being to a closed structure or a completed essence. It places us in the heart of “perpetual transformation,” where the human is not merely what he is, but what he becomes—and what he may yet be.

Existence, then, is not a “thing” to be captured by the language of reason as objects are; rather, it is an unfinished genesis, an open-ended trajectory with no terminus, moving from uncertainty to uncertainty, from question to question. In this horizon, identity is no longer something to be defined once and for all; it is potential, a project, and a risk. Existential philosophy strips the human of all ready-made garments and throws him into the open, to be himself in the form of action, not definition.

In this sense, becoming is not merely an external chronological evolution—it is the movement of the being in its essence, its resistance to stasis, its refusal to be reduced to a framework. We do not exist as completed entities, but rather live as open potentials governed more by freedom than by logic. Here, the issue of becoming intertwines with the concepts of freedom, reason, and individual existence, becoming a terrain of fundamental philosophical tensions that remain unresolved to this day.

In this becoming, reason becomes dizzy—it searches for solid ground in a shoreless sea. Freedom, on the other hand, appears as the only possible compass—yet even this compass does not point to a single direction. In this chapter, then, we are not asking “what is existence?” but rather “how is existence shaped?” “How is it lived as a flow, a formation, an openness?” and “how do we, within this labyrinth, exist as beings becoming—never completed?”

• The Notion of Becoming in Existential Philosophy: How is existence understood as an open, limitless process?

In my vision of existence, it cannot be reduced to something fixed, nor to a complete essence or a "whatness" that rests within boundaries. Existence, as I perceive it, is not a closed entity but a becoming—that is, a continuous act, a persistent flow, which transcends any attempt to define or contain it within logical or conceptual frames. Existential philosophy aligns with this view as it refuses to reduce the human being to a final definition or imposed identity. Just as the being is not “given” once and for all, so too existence itself is not discovered in a single moment, but rather unfolds gradually in an infinite path of possibilities.

Here, existence itself becomes a kind of open journey—not toward a prefigured destination, but toward the expansion of meaning itself. Nietzsche, for instance, when he speaks of the “eternal recurrence,” does not mean literal repetition but a continuous unveiling of what cannot be captured in a single moment. Heidegger, likewise, sees Being as a question, not an answer—where the being is that which always opens onto its own meaning, without ever fully attaining it. And that, to me, is essential: existence is only truly lived as a distance between presence and absence, between what is and what might be. That is the deep meaning of becoming.

• Existence as a Continuous Adventure: How does existential philosophy deal with the idea that existence never settles at a fixed point?

At the heart of this vision lies another core: existence is not a state, but an open adventure—one that knows no pause, no rest in certainty. Life is not a march across a pre-drawn map, but an experience created moment by moment. There is no final “arrival”; the human is not a fixed end, but a constant potential to become something else.

Within this framework, I believe that stasis is a betrayal of existence, and every attempt to conclude the path with final definitions—whether religious, moral, rational, or even ideological—is a negation of the becoming of the being. Sartre asserts that man is “condemned to be free,” meaning he is condemned to continuously create himself in every moment, without ever settling. Existentialism here does not celebrate chaos for its own sake, but sees in unpredictability a vital existential value, and in ambiguity a necessary vitality that opens the door to transformation and transcendence.

The existential adventure is not a quest for an answer, but a deep dive into questions. It is not an escape from meaning but a continual making of it. Every moment within it is a new beginning—built only to be dismantled, replaced, and re-formed anew. This tension, this uncertainty, this openness—this is what gives existence its true meaning.

• How can reason deal with existence in its ongoing becoming? Is the mind aware of this flow?

Reason—the mighty tool that humanity prides itself on—finds itself in crisis before the becoming of existence. By nature, reason seeks order, definition, structure, and closure. But existence offers none of these. It is fluid, shifting, elusive. Thus, in its struggle to comprehend becoming, reason either forcibly reshapes reality to fit its tools or collapses into paralysis, compelled to recognize its limits.

I do not believe reason should be excluded from existence—but it cannot dominate it either. Its task is not to subject existence to its laws, but to listen to its flow, to accompany it as a traveler, not as an architect. When reason tries to fence in becoming, it betrays it, for it kills what makes it alive: its incompleteness, its indefiniteness, its potential.

Heidegger profoundly identifies this dilemma when he distinguishes between “calculative thinking” and “meditative thinking.” Calculative thinking is reason at its peak: organizing, analyzing, measuring, framing things into logical clarity. But meditative thinking—this deeper, more philosophical mode—moves beyond rational calculation and opens onto an entirely different horizon. A horizon that cannot be reduced to numbers or formulas, but is an existential experience that seeps through emotion, intuition, temporal awareness, and the presence of things as they are in their living moment. Thinking here is not a cold, detached activity, but a poetic, affective act—one that tests the depths and mysteries of existence, and acknowledges that truth is not revealed solely through logic, but also through listening to what lies beyond words, through accepting the unsayable.

From this perspective, I believe reason should neither be rejected nor idolized, as is often misunderstood in postmodern or existential discourses. Rather, it must be reformed—liberated from its illusions of fixity and total control. When reason becomes aware of its limits and its own becoming, it shifts from being an instrument of confinement to an instrument of openness—from a fortress against ambiguity to a bridge between knowledge and being. Humble reason is the one that bows before the flow of life, not the arrogant one that tries to imprison existence in rigid molds or drain experience of its mysteries through ruthless analysis.

Awareness of becoming, nihilism, and the infinite begins with acknowledging that existence is not a simple object for the mind to dissect or dominate—but a shifting, open theater overflowing with strangeness, doubt, and wonder. It surpasses every attempt at absolute control. In this understanding, reason becomes a companion on the journey of existence, not its master—a thought that recognizes that what existence reveals most deeply often cannot be spoken, and that some of the greatest truths are born in the silence of inquiry, in the moments of awe that cannot be measured by logic or calculation, but are lived through deep presence and a humble awareness of reason’s own limits.

Thus, true thinking becomes an act of humility and reverence before mystery—where the mind does not impose its dominion, but welcomes existence with all its contradictions and secrets, learning that wisdom lies not in absolute knowledge, but in the ability to live with the open question, without final closure.

Sixth: Critique of Modern Rationalism in Existential Philosophy

• The Existential Critique of Rationalism: From Reason to Existence?
  • The Role of Reason in the Control of Meaning: Does Reason Restrict the Freedom of Existence?
  • The Existential Deconstruction of the Relationship Between Reason and Freedom: Where Do Existential and Non-Rational Thought Intersect?

At the heart of the existential soul lies a kind of quiet, yet radical rebellion against modern rationalism—which has turned “reason” into a mirror of the universe, or worse, a judge over it. Modernity began with an almost theological certainty in the power of reason to understand the world, organize it, and perhaps even save humanity from its ignorance and tragic fate. However, existential philosophy—being a tense awareness of human fragility, and a voice of the self in its battle with the void—refused to grant reason such absolute sovereignty.

To me, no matter how precise or abstract it becomes, reason cannot comprehend the human being in their depth. For the human is not a mathematical equation, but a volatile mystery—a being haunted by anxiety, longing, and a thirst for meaning that may never arrive.

Existentialism, as I see it, stood against rationalism not because it opposed thinking, but because it rejected the illusion of totality and the reduction of the human to an object analyzable within closed epistemological systems. Thinkers like Sartre, Kierkegaard, and Heidegger did not reject reason itself, but rather its transformation into a modern idol—a new authority that reproduces oppression in the name of truth, normativity, and order. The existentialist distrusts ready-made maps, choosing instead to confront existence as it is: naked, infinite, and resistant to framing.

Thus, existentialism does not negate reason so much as it re-questions it. Where does reason stand in the face of anxiety? Of death? Of love? Of existential estrangement? How can logical propositions capture the torment of man facing a senseless absurdity? Indeed, how can reason claim to understand the world when it cannot even explain its own meaning?

In this light, the existential critique of modern rationalism is not a dismantling of reason, but a call to liberate it from centralist hegemony—transforming it into a companion in the experience of existence, not its master.

This is the beginning of the existential questioning of rationalism: not as a path to salvation, but as a problem that calls for a radical reconstruction of the meaning of knowledge, of man, and of existence itself.

1. The Existential Critique of Rationalism: From Reason to Existence?

At the core of my existential thinking, I find that the modern rationalist project, despite its noble aspirations toward order and understanding, committed a fundamental philosophical sin: it reduced the human to epistemological structures, severing reason from living existence, so that existence itself came to seem subordinate to reason, rather than prior to it. Here arises a point of tension: is it reason that shapes existence, or is existence prior to all reason—mocking it in its silent depth?

Existential thought, as in Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, and Heidegger, did not reject reason as a tool for thinking, but opposed rationalism as a "metaphysical system" that seeks to dominate humanity and existence through pre-conceived concepts and rigid laws. This critique is a rebellion against every attempt to embalm existence within a logical framework. The existentialist begins not from rational principles, but from existence itself—from bareness, from meaninglessness, from silence, and from the original experience of the self before reason intervenes with its interpretations.

In my view, the human is not born rational, but is thrown into a strange and ambiguous world, beginning the search for the self amidst confusion, not in the light of logic. Thus, the transition from “reason to existence” is a move from abstraction to embodiment, from order to rupture, from control to exposure. It is the moment of awareness that existence is not to be understood, but to be lived.

2. The Role of Reason in the Control of Meaning: Does Reason Restrict the Freedom of Existence?

Looking at the history of thought, we see how reason has become a tool for regulating meaning, ensuring stability, and taming existential wildness. But beneath this, are we truly clarifying meaning—or concealing it? Does reason protect the human, or suffocate them within a web of definitions, classifications, and concepts that rob existence of its wonder?

I believe, like Sartre and Nietzsche, that reason does not merely seek to understand the world—it seeks to possess it, to control it. It attempts to construct a “fixed meaning,” while existence by its nature is fluid, elusive, and resists fixation. This control is not merely intellectual—it is an ontological act of violence. Meaning becomes a prison when confined by rational formulations that only see what they wish to see.

Thus, freedom becomes merely a choice within the boundaries of reason, not an opening onto the possibilities of being. I argue that liberation from the grip of reason does not mean falling into chaos, but opening oneself to meaning that emerges from within—from experience, from silence, from pain, from that moment of noble ignorance. The freedom of existence cannot be reduced to what reason allows.

3. The Existential Deconstruction of the Relationship Between Reason and Freedom: Where Do Existential and Non-Rational Thought Intersect?

In my philosophy, as in that of Heidegger and Sartre, true freedom cannot be discussed without dismantling the governing relationship between reason and freedom. Enlightenment thought taught us that freedom is the product of awareness and reason—but what is often unsaid is that this "freedom" is frequently no more than a rational, polished, tamed image—devoid of existential wildness.

Existential thought approaches the edges of the non-rational not out of recklessness, but because it realizes that within the realm of the irrational—within silence, ambiguity, absurdity—there lie possibilities of liberation that reason can neither grasp nor tolerate. Here, the existentialist meets the artist, the madman, the poet, the mystic: in that moment of leaving behind explanation and dissolving into presence.

To me, freedom cannot be purely rational—for it does not submit to logic or calculation. It requires the courage to leap into the unknown. Non-rational thought is not the negation of reason, but its extension into a realm more ambiguous, more authentic. In this space, the existentialist opens a door long shut by reason: the door of direct, intuitive, emotional experience as a domain of meaning—and perhaps of salvation.

Thus, the existential philosopher does not appear merely as a critic of reason or a denier of its value, but as a voice crying from the heart of human experience, believing that reason—however strong or precise—must be dethroned from its tyrannical seat if we are ever to reach the depth of true freedom or the authenticity of existence that transcends dry calculations and classifications.

In this deep rupture—between the call of reason that seeks control and the call of freedom that refuses to be confined—existential thought is born as a revolutionary movement in philosophy. Not to interpret the world from the outside, as traditional knowledge does, but to live it from within—to experience it in all its existential dimensions, to feel the weight of the moment, and to embrace fear, doubt, and brokenness as part of the experience of being human.

The existentialist does not seek ready-made answers, but a moment of truth with the self and the world, where one faces the unknowns of life, and rebuilds the meaning of existence anew—not through rigid concepts, but through a conscious and ever-renewing presence in every moment of life.

In this profound revival of existence, freedom ceases to be a mere theoretical idea or abstract philosophical concept, and becomes a lived, tangible experience pulsing through every breath of human life. Freedom becomes an act of refusal—to submit to any authority that shackles the soul, whether internal like tyrannical reason, or external like rigid customs and laws. It is the courage to face uncertainty and change with boldness, and the ability to live in a perpetual tension between fear and hope, between the unknown and the desire for meaning. In this ongoing rhythm, the human rediscovers themselves in every moment, reshaping their existence through confrontation with a shifting world, so that existence becomes a constant act of rebellion against all that limits true freedom.

Seventh: Freedom and Choice – Between Conscious Decision and Absurdity

• Freedom as Conscious Choice: What is the role of reason in decision-making?
  • Freedom in Absurd Contexts: How do existentialist philosophers deal with the concept of absurdity in relation to freedom?
  • Is there a relationship between freedom and absurdity? Does freedom require the presence of absurdity?

At the heart of existentialist philosophy, freedom emerges not merely as an existential privilege, but at times as an unbearable burden. Man is not only free; he is condemned to be free, as Sartre declares. And this freedom does not come adorned with tranquility—it arrives saturated with anxiety, weighted with responsibility, and open to the abyss of absurdity. The existential question of freedom is not merely an ethical or political inquiry; it is ontological, tied to the very essence of human existence: Do we choose because we are aware of our choices? Or do we choose because existence throws us into a world devoid of prior meaning, and we must invent significance amidst a void?

Choice, in existentialism, is not a fleeting act—it is a foundational one. The self is recreated each time it stands at a crossroads. Yet in the absence of absolute standards, every choice becomes, from the classical rational standpoint, a “foolish” act. However, from the existentialist view, it is the highest form of authenticity. We do not choose between objective good and evil, but between paths whose meanings are revealed only after we embark upon them.

And here arises the tension: how do we reconcile the idea of conscious, responsible choice with the inner awareness that the world offers no fixed criteria, that there is nothing we “ought” to do in advance? Are we truly free in a world that does not guarantee that our choices are correct—or even rational? Or is freedom, as Camus writes, the cry of reason when it faces the absurdity of the universe and finds no justification for its own existence?

At this delicate junction, existentialism intersects with absurdism—not to reject freedom, but to strip it of its illusions and return it to its roots: Freedom is not a path to reassurance; it is a journey into the unknown, a continuous choice in a world that guarantees nothing. Thus, the human being becomes not merely a chooser, but a creator of existence through choices governed by no rulebook, forging a path through the silence of the cosmos.

• Freedom as Conscious Choice: What is the role of reason in decision-making?
  In my view, the role of reason in awareness of choice cannot be denied—but it is not the decisive force that grants freedom its essential meaning. Reason serves to analyze options, estimate outcomes, and perhaps construct justifications for a decision. But it does not create freedom—it interprets it after the fact. Freedom, in its existential essence, precedes reason, just as existence, in Sartre’s words, precedes essence. We are not free because we think; rather, we think because we are free—and because we are thrown into a reality that demands choice.

Reason, then, is not the source of freedom but its limited tool. It illuminates certain paths, but does not provide certainty. For every decision, no matter how rational it seems, contains an existential risk: Is what I chose right? Can I turn back? Was I truly free—or merely deceived by ready-made norms shaped by culture, language, and society?

Let me put it clearly: Reason does not justify freedom; it often stands perplexed before it. We choose in spite of reason, not solely because of it. True choice often occurs in moments when reason is not systematically present, but when the individual is driven by intuition, inner certainty, or even an inexplicable silence. There are moments when a person decides to be, not because of a logical argument—but because they simply cannot not choose.

• Freedom in Absurd Contexts: How do existentialist philosophers deal with the concept of absurdity in relation to freedom?
  Absurdity, as I understand it, is not a negative nihilistic stance, but the fundamental condition under which freedom is most authentically exercised. In a world that offers no ready-made meaning, freedom becomes not just a matter of choice—but a continuous act of meaning-creation. Existentialist philosophers—especially Albert Camus—do not see absurdity as an obstacle to freedom, but as its horizon.

In The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus does not advocate philosophical suicide despite the absurdity of existence. Instead, he sees in free rebellion, in the insistence on life despite the lack of meaning, the pinnacle of existential freedom. Here, freedom does not mean chaos or disintegration—but conscious defiance in the face of a silent universe. Absurdity exposes the fragility of all external standards—but it does not compel surrender. Rather, it urges us to create our own rules, our own values, and our own justifications.

I believe that freedom, within absurdity, is more honest than any rational, orderly freedom—for it is exercised in full awareness of the absence of guarantees. At its core, it is an existential stance that says: “I choose, even though nothing obliges me to.” In this way, the absurd individual meets the creator, the poet, the rebel—not to destroy, but to establish a personal world in the heart of emptiness.

• Is there a relationship between freedom and absurdity? Does freedom require the presence of absurdity?
  The relationship between freedom and absurdity is not one of contradiction—but of revelation. Absurdity is the mirror of freedom, and freedom is the conscious response to this revelation. When a person realizes that no absolute truth guides them, and no final purpose awaits them, they find themselves swept into the void. And it is precisely here that freedom is born—as a pure experience anchored only in the self, which now declares its full responsibility for its being.

Freedom, in moments of absurdity, does not collapse—it is laid bare. It loses its ornaments, but retains its core: No one decides for me. No one gives me meaning. No one bears the consequences of what I do. This is existential freedom as I understand it: a continuous birth of the self from the ashes of certainty.

And here, in confronting the void of existence and the moment of absurdity when the limits of every prior meaning are exposed, I must admit a truth that may seem counterintuitive: The moment of absurdity is not a threat to freedom—but its condition of birth and renewal. Absurdity does not mean collapse or despair—it is the empty space where freedom is liberated from the illusions that once surrounded it, from the false rational justifications that tried to impose rigid boundaries on existence, and from the inherited cultural metaphors that entrenched epistemic authorities that restrained both thought and selfhood.

In the moment of absurdity, we are stripped of all that we believed we owned—of truths, guarantees, or inherited meanings—and confronted with the reality that existence has no final purpose. Any meaning created, is our own. No scriptures or laws impose it.

With this revelation, we are left with nothing but our free decision, which may seem simple or even trivial—but in essence, becomes an act of existential salvation. It is the moment in which we craft the meaning of our life with our own hands, where value does not come from the outside, and we await no one to bestow it upon us—but rather, we shape it through deliberate, conscious choice. In this free act lies the resistance to absurdity—not a resistance based on stability or certainty, but on the continuous act of creating meaning amid meaninglessness, and the courage to face the void with the light of will and choice.

Thus, absurdity becomes not merely a negative or tragic state—but a constantly renewed source of freedom, one that lives at the heart of every human being capable of saying: “I create my life, despite everything. I refuse to be a victim of fate, tradition, or any authority that seeks to reshape my being.”

Within this open space of meaninglessness, the responsibility of the human being appears in its most luminous—and most burdensome—form. There is no escape from confronting the self in its totality, from admitting that we are alone, without a clear map or prior guide, required to choose the path we will walk—even if that path is strewn with risk and doubt. Freedom, in this context, is not an escape from reality or a submission to fantasies of evasion—it is a deep, radical commitment to infusing the present moment with meaning, no matter how fragile, fleeting, or even contradictory it may be.

It is a continuous journey of shaping and reshaping—a journey in which the human being transforms from a passive recipient of life into both a maker and observer, one who adopts their decisions and bears the weight of their consequences—not fleeing the responsibility of their existence, but embracing it with full awareness. In this journey, the unknown becomes not merely a threat, but an inseparable part of the existential experience, one we are compelled to welcome and embrace—not as an enemy to conquer, but as a partner in creating a new meaning for life.

From here, the power of true freedom arises—not in the ability to control everything or know every answer, but in the ability to remain steadfast in the face of uncertainty, to continue seeking meaning despite the absence of guarantees. It is a freedom born from the heart of the tension between chaos and order…

Eighth: Freedom as a Moment of Pure Existential Radiance

• How can a human being experience freedom in its highest manifestations?
  • Freedom as a breaking of mental chains: how does one discover an absolute freedom that the mind cannot comprehend?
  • Freedom as an immeasurable human state: can freedom be understood beyond the bounds of reason?

In our philosophical vision rooted in the core of existential experience, freedom cannot be reduced to the mere ability to make choices, nor to legal or social definitions. Though these approaches have their importance, they remain external and superficial; they do not touch the essence of freedom as it reveals itself in the deepest layers of being. True freedom is not an external event but a rare internal moment — a moment of pure existential radiance in which the being ignites as a being, not merely as an individual integrated within a system.

This moment cannot be fabricated or summoned by will or analysis; it reveals itself only when a person reaches the very limits of their consciousness, where all that is given collapses, all expectations dissolve, and existence is exposed in its rawness, brutality, and beauty. There, at the threshold between nothingness and possibility, the human appears in the peak of their radiance — when they choose to be, without any guarantee, when they cry out, “I am who I am,” in the face of the infinite silence of the cosmos.

Freedom here, in the sense I defend, is not merely a right, an aspiration, or an ethical condition — it is a transcendent existential state, one that cannot be measured by reason or codified by traditional philosophical concepts. It is the summit of being in its disclosure — the emergence of the self from within itself, its inner combustion turning it into a light shining in the darkness of meaning. Freedom is not something we do, but the moment we become pure action, pure being, a liberated life practiced even beyond the constraints of awareness itself.

In this section, we delve into this profound notion — where freedom is not just a matter of choice, but a moment of existential illumination, a radiant flash that transcends reason, logic, and language; a moment of unbound "beingness" — yet one that lacks certainty. It is this moment that justifies life itself.

1. How can a human being experience freedom in its highest manifestations?
   Freedom at its highest is neither a mechanical act nor a conscious decision among predetermined options. Rather, it is a rupture through existence itself — an existential experience that occurs outside social time and conventional thought patterns. A person does not experience ultimate freedom by choosing between “A” and “B,” but by suddenly realizing that no choice is necessary at all — that in a rare moment of clarity, they can create meaning from nothing, from the heart of nothingness, without needing rational justification.

This freedom is experienced when one confronts their naked truth — the moment illusion collapses, and awareness is stripped of all its defenses, leaving the self face to face with a being that cannot be postponed. A moment in which existence is no longer imposed but becomes an act of ongoing self-creation — where the individual alone gives shape, direction, and purpose to life.

In such a moment, freedom is no longer a right but a spiritual inward experience — akin to a mystical unveiling or existential rapture, a state of radiance that illuminates being from within, allowing one to see the unseen, feel what lies beyond language, and become — in every deep sense of the word.

2. Freedom as a breaking of mental chains: how does one discover an absolute freedom that the mind cannot comprehend?
   Though the mind is a tool of discernment and analysis, it often turns into a prison wrapped in the logic of systems. In trying to explain the world, the mind fences it in, reducing it to controllable equations. In this sense, the mind is not always an instrument of liberation — it can become a mechanism of control and repression, preventing one from perceiving what lies beyond its constructs.

Hence, true freedom is not grasped by the mind but discovered when its chains are broken. At a certain moment, the individual transcends conceptual limits and surrenders to a state of “pure disclosure,” where all perceptual filters fall away, and the self comes into direct contact with the essence of being.

This freedom — which cannot be understood through law, analysis, or language — is nothing less than a burst of existential release, an explosion from within that liberates the self from the very frameworks the mind had built. It is not madness, but beyond reason — a rare transcendence where existence opens to infinite possibilities that defy any measure or form.

3. Freedom as an immeasurable human state: can freedom be understood beyond the bounds of reason?
   Yes — and I go further to claim: the highest manifestations of freedom cannot be understood within the bounds of reason. Attempting to “understand” freedom with a mind that thinks in terms of cause and effect is a contradiction in itself, for freedom — as an inner state — arises precisely when such logic collapses, when the self is torn from its causal condition.

Freedom is not a number in an equation, nor is it measured by how many options a person has. It is a profound existential feeling of total detachment — liberation from all authority: the authority of language, of habit, of the self itself. That’s why it is an inherently personal experience — one that cannot be transferred, compared, or subjected to external scales.

In its highest moment, freedom cannot be narrated or understood — it can only be lived. It is like a rare vision seen only by those who have truly experienced it — just as scent cannot be explained to one who has never smelled, or stillness described to one who has never felt its core. It is an inner sensation akin to enlightenment — an unmeasurable radiance beyond proof or argument.

And perhaps this is what makes freedom, in this sense, a pure existential act — standing in stark contrast to all that is rational and classifiable. It is not something we understand; it is what makes understanding itself possible.

Ninth: Existence and Freedom in the Context of Cosmic Meaning

• Could freedom play the role of a “rupture” in the cosmic meaning within the becoming of existence?
  • Freedom and resistance: How is freedom represented in existential philosophy as resistance against intellectual and social frameworks?
  • Existence as an indefinite horizon: How can a human remain free within the open becoming of the universe?

Freedom and existence are not merely isolated human concepts; rather, they are vibrations in the fabric of the cosmos, subtle signals that, despite human limitation, echo something cosmic—something beyond the self. Each moment a human experiences freedom, they do not merely move within the circle of ethical or political choice; they respond to a tremor in the depth of existence itself. Freedom, as I understand it, is not the possession of the individual self but a cosmic possibility inherent in things, revealed through human consciousness of it.

This chapter is an invitation to transcend the human as the center of meaning, to see it as a meeting point between existence, freedom, and meaning, between the finite and the infinite, between the moment and eternity. Here, we revisit the age-old, ever-renewed question: Does freedom exist because humans exist? Or do humans exist because freedom—as a cosmic will—has willed itself to exist in them?

In this horizon, freedom becomes not only a responsibility but a sign that the universe itself is open, undecided, and that meaning has not yet been sealed. Thus, human existence, with all its consciousness, anxiety, and questioning, becomes part of the formation of cosmic meaning—not merely a spectator of it. In this context, humans cease to be seekers of ready-made meaning and instead—whether knowingly or not—become instruments of the ongoing creation of meaning in the universe.

1. Could freedom have a role as a “rupture” in the cosmic meaning within the becoming of existence?
   Posing this question unsettles the primary intuition that firmly binds freedom and meaning together. It has long been believed that freedom is the supreme condition for the production of meaning; but what if, at certain moments, it is a rupture of that meaning rather than its completion?

A free human is not only one who produces significance for their world but also one who possesses the radical power to negate that significance.

In this sense, freedom becomes an unpredictable event, a force of intrusion rather than justification. It breaks away from the logical course of things and enters as a will to disrupt in the becoming of cosmic meaning, which always strives for coherence. Freedom interrupts this coherence—not to destroy it entirely, but to remind us that the cosmos is not a closed system but an open becoming subject to mutations, lapses, and moments that cannot be explained within a comprehensive system.

At some point, freedom may become a silence within the noise of cosmic interpretation, a refusal to be part of a previous text or a final framework of meaning. It is not a negation of the cosmos but a small tear in its fabric that opens a horizon for the unexpected, the uncalculated, the incomplete. Here, freedom is not the tool of meaning but the pickaxe that strikes it to reveal its fragility.

1. Freedom and resistance: How is freedom represented in existential philosophy as resistance against intellectual and social frameworks?
   At the core of existentialism, freedom manifests not as a privilege but as a resistant stance—a continuous refusal of all that is meant to be a constraint: religion when it turns into dogma, reason when it builds rigid frameworks, society when it becomes a machine that grinds the individual, and tradition when it ceases to be roots and becomes chains.

In this framework, freedom is not merely the possibility of choice but a fundamental refusal to reduce the human to a function, a definition, a rigid identity. It is the force that enables the self to rise against what is imposed from outside—or even from within when imprisoned within its own mind.

In this struggle, the existentialist intersects with the revolutionary, the individual with the thinker, the self with the stranger. Freedom as an existential act is practiced in ongoing confrontation with language, power, institutions, and preconceived notions of “what ought to be.” It is not a philosophical luxury but a form of existence that threatens systems, disrupts categories, and rebels against definitions.

In light of this, freedom appears closer to fire than to light: it burns repetition, resists acceptance, and liberates the self from falling into intellectual sleep within the system of things. It is the greatest existential act that makes the human not just a rational being but a resisting being.

1. Existence as an indefinite horizon: How can a human remain free within the open becoming of the universe?
   At the heart of this question lies a deep tension: If the universe is in a constant state of becoming, incomplete, not held by any final formula, can the human—seeker of meaning and stability—remain free amid this continuous flux?

Is not freedom, in this case, the ability to walk into the unknown, without final maps, without guarantees?

I see freedom here not as stability in the self but as a constant readiness for transition, change, and adventure. It is the courage not to settle in knowledge, identity, or even in any idea about oneself. In an open universe, existence is realized only in passage, and freedom is realized only in the radical acceptance of indeterminacy.

Freedom then is not merely a choice among alternatives but a choice to remain at the edge of things, to stand at the thresholds of meaning, to be where there is no certainty or predefined path.

And if the universe’s becoming is infinite, true freedom is not to demand that the universe closes itself for you, nor that you demand your own ending. It is to accept remaining a being in formation, not completion; to live freely because you ask of life only that it be lived, not understood to its end.

Conclusion: Humanity Between Abyss and Light—Reflections on Existence, Reason, and Freedom

At the end of this philosophical journey through layers of existential thought—from the depth of existence as flowing becoming, to the dialectic of reason and the limits of consciousness, to the moment of freedom as a cosmic explosion amid absurdity and uncertainty—we confront an essential truth that resists simplification: freedom is not merely an act arising from conscious choice, but an existential emergence born from the womb of anxiety, generated by the rupture of pre-given meaning.

Reason, with all its light, discipline, and concepts, is often a subtle constraint seeking to enclose existence in networks of understanding and definition, while existence, in its original nature, is a continual escape from definition, a rebellion against fixity, and a desire for manifestation without waiting for interpretation. Hence, the relationship between reason and existence is not one of permanent harmony but a creative tension that opens the door to understanding humans as incomplete beings, inhabited by contradiction and wandering paths of meaning without a map.

Freedom cannot be reduced to the capacity to make decisions or reject external constraints but manifests in its highest form when the human separates from ready-made rational categories and frees itself from the condition of meaning itself. In that lightning-like moment, the human discovers both fragility and glory: fragile because without certainty, glorious because creating itself at every moment without guarantees.

This study attempted to map a journey beginning with the question “What is existence?” passing through the labyrinths of reason and the cliffs of freedom, until reaching the open horizon of the cosmos where no fixed meaning exists—only the will for existence in its free and transforming sense.

Thus, this inquiry ends not with an answer but with an invitation to continuous thought and an inner revolution that does not stop at the limits of reason nor at the certainty of essence but moves beyond: toward the human as a being inhabiting uncertainty and glowing in freedom, simply because it is... a being searching for itself in the unknowns of meaning.

This research has deeply revealed that the concept of freedom within pure existential framework far surpasses traditional rational conceptions that define it as a logical rational decision or as mere capacity to choose between known alternatives. Freedom here is not just an external act or material choice but a unique existential moment in which the self discloses its true self by escaping the predetermined grasp imposed by reason and traditional meaning, to experience its being in an open horizon unbounded by rational limits or rigid concepts. It is a state of pure existential openness, where stability disappears, certainty fades, and the human becomes a being living in the heart of continuous becoming, bearing the burden of freedom as a heavy weight that cannot be evaded or denied—not as a savior or magical salvation, but as an existential truth reflecting the core of its being in a world characterized by change and instability.

In this continuous flow of existence, reason strives to hold it, to frame it within fixed concepts and truths, but ultimately realizes the impossibility of complete grasp, for reason cannot encompass what is always moving and open to infinity. Freedom thus dwells in the decisive moment when we realize this limitation, where we choose to be—not based on prior knowledge or affirmation of the self, but based on the deep awareness that we are still in a continuous state of becoming, creating ourselves through our renewed acts and decisions. Freedom in this context is the act of confronting the unknown, accepting uncertainty, and daring to reshape self and reality together, despite all the anxiety and instability that entails, becoming thus a genuine existential act that expresses the essence of humanity in a world that does not tolerate fixity or stagnation.

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