The Brutal Truth About Birth, Illusion, and Human Suffering

Since 2012, I’ve been writing about the pitfalls of spirituality and what it really means to live an authentic spiritual life. Over the years, my perspective has hardened—not into bitterness, but into honesty. The sugarcoating fell away. The dream faded. And what remained was the kind of truth most spiritual circles avoid like the plague.

I’ve fought the inner war—the dreamer in me versus the adult staring at the wreckage. And I’ve reached the point where it’s time to take the gloves off.

This is bare-knuckle writing.

No spiritual fluff. No cozy affirmations. No "everyone’s truth" sermon to comfort the adult children in the room.

This is about the brutal realities that rise up after the dream bubble pops and the hopeful leave the room.

Let’s begin.

Humans: Beautiful and Brutal

Humans are emotional primates—flesh-bound creatures locked in a trance most of their lives. We are hardwired to obey, to conform, to follow the rules of the tribe, to cling to certainty. We hallucinate meaning where there is none. We worship authority. We guard our territory like apes with Wi-Fi.

We are:

• Easily hypnotized

• Prone to mass delusion

• Addicted to projection

• Trapped in inherited mythologies

• Capable of cruelty that would make predators blush

And yet—

We are also capable of deep wonder, humor, connection, art, and extraordinary acts of love.

But of all the forces that rule us, one towers above the rest:

Hope.

Hope is the illusion generator. It keeps us going. It helps us ignore the inconvenient facts of our existence. And in its shadow, we create:

• Religion

• Irrational beliefs

• Narcissistic dreams of personal destiny

• Ideologies that protect us from the rawness of death, loss, suffering, and collapse

Hope can be a form of anesthesia. A spiritual opiate. A shield against the truth that this world is not fair, not kind, not stable—and never was.

The Most Overlooked Trauma: Birth

“All life is suffering.”

—The Buddha

And it starts immediately.

Birth is the first betrayal. The moment of eviction. The trauma we don't remember, but never forget.

Think about it. You live in a warm, enclosed womb for nine months—bathed in amniotic fluid, cradled by the rhythms of your mother’s body. But you're not protected from her life. If she’s stressed, abused, malnourished, on drugs, or consuming violent media, it all impacts you. The fetal nervous system absorbs the atmosphere.

And then—you’re forced out. The soft darkness gives way to chaos. Bright lights. Strange hands. Cold air. Pain.

• You are pulled from the only home you've ever known

• The umbilical cord—your lifeline—is cut

• You are wiped down, poked, sometimes sliced (circumcision), and exposed to noise and confusion

• You scream—because you’re alive and it hurts

Only after the chaos are you returned to the warmth of the mother. But the question remains: Was the damage already done?

The Guilt of Being Born

One can’t help but wonder—do children, on some deep subconscious level, feel guilty for being born?

For causing pain?

For tearing the mother open, literally and metaphorically?

For costing someone so much, just to exist?

Could this be the true birth of the psychological shadow?

And if we are, as some spiritual traditions claim, souls who choose to incarnate—why do we arrive like this? Why does the beginning of our earthly journey come drenched in blood, pain, screaming, and detachment?

If you're such a divine being, why not arrive in light? Why not descend gently into a prepared vessel, with consent, joy, and grace?

Why this?

What If You're Born Into Hell?

And then, consider those born not into the arms of a loving mother, but into hell itself.

What about the child born in a crack house?

Or the infant born addicted to fentanyl?

The baby left at a hospital. The newborn trafficked, sold, or abandoned.

No breast to suckle. No warmth. No lullaby.

Some people begin life inside a war zone—before they ever take a step.

This isn’t poetic metaphor. This is reality.

Welcome to the Machine

After birth, the training begins.

We call it “childhood,” but in many cases, it’s indoctrination.

You’re taught how to behave in a system designed to serve the powerful.

You are shaped.

Controlled.

Tested.

Graded.

Prepared for obedience, productivity, and debt.

All to become an adult in a world run by psychopaths.

But we’ll save that for another post.

This Is Not a Drill

This blog isn’t for everyone.

It’s not for the light-and-love bypassers, the hashtag healers, or the ones who think “it’s all happening for a reason.”

This is for the ones who feel it all and keep going anyway.

The ones who don’t flinch when the curtain is pulled back.

The ones who watch the car crash and ask, What does this say about us?

If you’re still reading, it means you're not here to escape.

You’re here to witness.

Welcome to Earth, My Child

Birth is not beautiful for everyone.

Hope is not always holy.

And the truth is not always kind.

But it is liberating.

This is your welcome message—not from a god, not from a preacher, not from a motivational guru—but from one of the wounded who chose to speak.

Welcome to Earth.

Welcome to this broken, beautiful mess of a world.

Welcome to the underbelly.

— Zzenn