I’ve been really fascinated by the writings of Tara Isabel Burton, especially her books Strange Rites: New Religions for a Godless World and Self-Made: Creating Our Identities from DaVinci to the Kardashians. She does an incredible job exploring the American religious landscape and the ongoing push toward what she describes as the deification of self. I finished her first book and haven’t started the second one yet. I actually found her podcast appearances the most interesting though.
If you look at Western history, particularly since the Renaissance, there’s been this consistent elevation of the self. The narrative often paints external connections, authorities, hierarchies, and structures as oppressive or even evil, while the individual self—the “I”—is seen as inherently good. It’s that Rousseau-inspired idea of a pure, innocent self corrupted by society, bad parenting, trauma, outdated customs, and rigid institutions like the church.
In grad school, I had an existentialism professor who traced this progression through history, starting with Copernicus, who dethroned Earth as the center of the universe. Then came Darwin, showing we’re not divinely created but evolved from apes, and Freud, revealing the unconscious forces that manipulate us. When Nietzsche declared that “God is dead,” not in triumph but as a warning about the hollow world that secularization might create.
Burton takes this further, discussing how modern “remixed religions” have shifted moral imperatives. It’s no longer about following the Bible, doing good works, or serving your country and family. For many, especially the urban, educated, upper-middle-class, those traditional anchors—nation, family, neighborhood, and civic responsibility—have been stripped away.
If you’ve gone through secular schooling and absorbed the narrative of modern science, you might see emotions as random chemical reactions optimized for reproduction. What’s left is this disenchanted worldview where everything revolves around finding your “authentic” self. Humanistic psychology, influenced by thinkers like Carl Rogers, tells us to look inward, continuing a centuries-old trend from the Renaissance.
Of course, not to say all of this is bad or wrong. There’s great elements in the freedom and liberation of self from oppression. But, it’s not all black-and-white. We’ve thrown the baby out with the bathwater.
And, now we see that’s where the trouble begins. If you’re in your 20s, unmarried, without kids, and outside the structured environment of school or college, the freedom can feel like a trap. You have time, money, and opportunities, yet there’s this gnawing emptiness. Questions like “What’s my purpose?” and “What’s my dream?” haunt you. Modern culture and advertising amplify this, spinning endless narratives about finding your true calling and overcoming external forces holding you back.
Ironically, when we strip away religion, family, and community, we don’t end up with a liberated self. Instead, we’re left with a vacuum, quickly filled by advertisers, algorithms, and capitalist systems telling us what to want and who to be.
I’ve seen many friends in their 30s and 40s find relief in relationships and, especially, parenthood. Raising a child brings daily responsibility and connection. Yes, it means trading some freedom for what might feel like a “prison” of obligations, but it also delivers value and meaning. Purpose, after all, emerges through relationships, and deep relationships require responsibility.
The societal challenge, though, is this paradox: when everyone focuses on their own family, their own children, we’re left in a kind of prisoner’s dilemma. How do we tackle collective challenges when the system feels too large and unwieldy to change? It’s easier to retreat into personal spheres of influence.
For me, long meditation retreats and time in a monastery offered a way to step back. They revealed the emptiness of self—not as something to destroy or deny, but as something to understand. The self isn’t fixed; it’s constructed, conditioned by countless factors—family, culture, experiences, and even this very moment.
And here’s the beautiful twist: understanding the emptiness of self doesn’t negate it. It allows for its fullest actualization. We’re all part of an intricate web of connections, and there’s nothing outside that web. The path isn’t about discovering some pure, isolated essence of “me.” It’s about seeing how we fit into the larger picture, how the conditions and context of our lives continually shape and guide us.
Every moment presents an opportunity to align with our vow, our purpose—not as something external we need to chase but as something already present if we’re willing to fully be where we are. The path isn’t somewhere out there; it’s right here, unfolding with every step we take.
This post was originally audio recorded, transcribed and cleaned up with ChatGPT, and manually reviewed/edited by Mitra