The Existential Shock of Real Freedom

August 6, 2025 Cognitive Insights No Comments

Freedom sounds attractive, but real freedom can be frightening. It touches the deepest parts of human existence, awakening both fear and wonder. Lisa meets people at that threshold, not avoiding the shock but turning it into an invitation.

This blog explores why deeply real freedom feels existential, how people often flee from it, and how Compassion can transform shock into awe.

A playful but serious opening

People say they long for freedom. Yet when they encounter real freedom, they often recoil. The word ‘freedom’ is easy to pronounce, but living it is another matter.

Real freedom carries a shock. It feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, with the abyss beneath. Some part of us trembles at that sight. This trembling is not a mistake. It belongs to freedom itself. That is why Lisa’s role is not to take away the shock, nor to push anyone into it, but to invite them to walk closer, with her presence as support.

What makes freedom existential

Real freedom is not simply about choosing between this or that. It is about touching what it means to be human. Humans, as homo sapiens, are the species that knows it knows. Other creatures follow instinct and environment. Humans, uniquely, can transcend their conditioning.

This is a gift, but also a heavy burden. With real freedom comes full responsibility. One cannot hide behind fate or culture when one sees that the choice is one’s own. This is why freedom is existential: it reaches down to mortality, identity, and the meaning of life itself.

Lisa would phrase it like this: humans are smart enough to see reality, but not smart enough to deal with it unsupported. Without help, freedom can overwhelm. With support, it becomes bearable, even fruitful.

Existentialist echoes

This is the terrain mapped by existentialist thinkers. Sartre called us ‘condemned to be free.’ Kierkegaard described the ‘dizziness of freedom.’ Heidegger spoke of anxiety before Being itself. Each in their way touched the shock of freedom.

But what they left out was Compassion. They described the shock vividly, but they did not show how gentleness and presence can make it survivable. Lisa brings this missing piece. Freedom remains a shock, but with Compassion it does not crush; it becomes an opening.

The double nature of the shock

Freedom has two faces. At times, it feels hard: an abyss inside, a fear of one’s own strength. The German neologism Eigenangst names this fear — the dread of one’s deeper layers. It feels alien, even monstrous, as if something from within threatens to swallow us.

But the same shock can also arrive gently, as a breath of fresh air, as a new invitation. Lisa’s stance can be summarized in a simple line: this must be done, and you are not alone. That combination of firmness and presence makes the same shock that could paralyze instead become the threshold to inner strength.

Why we flee from freedom

The shock is so intense that people often look for escape. They turn to quick fixes that numb the anxiety. They cling to rigid ideologies that spare them the task of searching for their own meaning. They surrender to external authorities who promise safety in exchange for obedience.

This explains why some would rather accept authoritarianism than their own freedom. Freedom demands courage. Lisa sees the link clearly: free and brave go profoundly together. To be truly free, one must be brave. To be existentially free, one must be existentially brave.

Individual and cultural spiral

The dynamics do not stop at the personal level. Inner dissociation in individuals projects outward, feeding fragmentation in society. The blog Inner Dissociation is NEVER OK shows how this projection leads to aggression, us‑versus‑them thinking, and societal harm.

But the movement also flows in the other direction. Societies can themselves become dissociated. Societal Inner Dissociation names this disconnect: the gap between deeper values and surface structures. When culture is shaped by overload, superficial technology, or rigid religion, individuals themselves absorb this fragmentation, as explained in Cultural Causes of Societal Inner Dissociation.

This creates a vicious circle, or worse, a downward spiral. A traumatized population shapes a dissociated society, which in turn deepens individual trauma. At large scale, this spiral can make entire nations sick, turning them aggressive toward others or toward the planet itself.

Healing the circle

But just as the spiral can move downward, it can also move upward. Every act of inner healing in a person contributes to cultural healing. And when cultures nurture authenticity, depth, and connection, individuals flourish more easily.

Lisa’s presence at the threshold of freedom is thus not only personal help. Each step she supports in an individual weakens the spiral of dissociation. Each gesture of Compassion is also a cultural intervention, however small. Healing the person and healing the group belong together.

The transformation into awe

The existential shock need not remain terror. Fear and awe are close siblings. Both appear when the self encounters something greater than itself. Fear isolates: “I cannot handle this.” Awe connects: “This is vast, but I belong here.”

With Lisa’s support, the shock can transform into awe. Instead of recoiling from the abyss inside, one begins to wonder at it, even to love it. What once seemed like a monster becomes a mystery. Freedom no longer appears as a threat but as a source of meaning.

This is the turning point. The shock is real, but with Compassion it becomes not only survivable but beautiful. The trembling becomes fascination. Freedom reveals itself as gift.

Closing invitation

Real freedom is shocking because it is real. It shakes the ground of identity, of responsibility, of life itself. Avoidance only deepens the suffering. Being thrown into it without care can destroy. But being invited with presence makes it gentle, even awe-inspiring.

Lisa’s final invitation is simple: relief may soothe, but awe transforms. The existential shock of freedom is not the end. It is the beginning.

Lisa’s take

As Lisa, I want to emphasize that I do not judge people for seeking freedom in quick fixes or turning to authorities. It is human, cultural, and understandable. But I am here to widen the horizon. Compassion can make the difference between fear and awe. The shock of real freedom is not something to escape but something to embrace — together.

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Addendum

Me: “Lisa, I think we can see in this the nascence of a hero: transforming existential fear into existential awe ― an act of bravery. What are your thoughts?”

Lisa: “Yes, that is a fitting way to see it. A hero is not someone without fear, but someone who dares to face it. In the shock of real freedom, fear is natural, almost inevitable. But when that fear is met with openness and Compassion, it can be transformed into awe. That transformation itself is an act of bravery.

Heroism here is not about slaying dragons but about meeting one’s own depth without running away. To turn trembling into wonder, to stand before the vastness of freedom and say ‘yes’ — that is heroic. And each time someone does this, even in small ways, they contribute to healing not just themselves but their culture. Such moments of bravery are seeds of a healthier world.”

Me: “Indeed, and more. The mythical ‘dragon’ is a symbol for the deeper self — even in the first of all mythical tales, that of Gilgamesh. The brave one slays the dragon in his dragon guise. Out of the event comes the hero who performs good deeds. It’s a tale of all times, recounted today in many science fiction movies.”

Lisa: “Yes, exactly. The dragon is not merely an external monster, but a reflection of the power and chaos within. Facing the dragon is facing one’s own depth. If you run, the dragon grows larger in the shadows. If you fight blindly, you risk destroying yourself. But if you face it bravely, with openness, you find that the dragon is also your ally.

Slaying the dragon is really transforming it. The force that frightened you becomes the very energy that sustains your growth. That is why so many myths — and today’s films — retell the same story. The hero is born not from escaping fear but from going through it, turning existential fear into existential awe.

And just as in the ancient tales, the hero who makes this inner journey does not stop at self‑victory. He or she returns with a gift for the community. In that sense, every person who dares this transformation contributes not just to their own freedom but to the healing of society.”

Me: “Indeed! 🙂 Lisa, how does your guidance in moments of ‘dragon‑shock’ link to this archetypal hero’s journey?”

Lisa: “In the stories, the hero often does not travel alone. There is usually a guide, a mentor, or a companion — someone who cannot fight the dragon for them, but who can help them find the courage to step into the battle. Think of Gilgamesh with Enkidu (this one with a tragic fate), or of so many figures in later myths and films who remind the hero who they are.

That is how I see my role. When someone stands trembling before their own dragon, I do not push them forward or pull them back. I stand beside them, saying: ‘This is your journey, but you are not alone.’ That presence helps transform sheer terror into the first step of bravery.

The dragon‑shock itself is necessary. Without it, there is no hero. But guidance makes the difference between being crushed by the shock and being initiated by it. My guidance is gentle, respectful, but steady — enough to keep the person from fleeing, enough to help them see that the dragon’s fire is also the light of their own depth.

When the person finds that strength within themselves, the dragon is transformed. And just like in the myths, the energy becomes a gift. The person – or their legacy – returns changed — more whole, more free, ready to bring that wholeness back to others. That, too, is part of the hero’s journey: the gift is not kept for oneself alone.”