The goad of freedom: October of Zarathustra
October of Zarathustra
This is the longest chapter in Thus Spoke Zarathustra and so far it's both the clearest and also the most thought-provoking that I've read. It seems like the chapter where Zarathustra really gets down to the business of articulating his vision for individuals and for humanity.
A moron's allegory
One day, posters appeared around town saying: "One-month meaning workshop! Two sessions. $100. Limited to 33 attendees."
It had a website on it. The first workshop was six weeks away. The workshop filled up quickly and many people who wanted to attend found it sold out.
When the day came, the 33 attendees assembled for the workshop.
The chairs in the room were assembled like a classroom, in neat rows, the first of 9 and then three of 8.
Precisely on time, the teacher walked out. And he said: "The fee for this workshop is only $10. The other $90 are for all of you. Everyone will get $25 back if they simply show up for the next and final workshop."
Then his assistant came out and gave everyone a sheet of paper. On each sheet of paper was a poem, it was 33 lines long. Everyone had a different poem.
The teacher told them all to go and to read their poem every day in order to memorize it. If they did, then they were to recite their poem every day. As many times as they felt they needed to make it stick in their memory. And then they should all come back to the second workshop either way to discuss what they learned.
Someone asked, "Why does everyone have a different poem?"
And the teacher said, "Because everyone has a different way."
And that was the end of the first workshop.
A month passed. The next workshop came. Everyone came back. The teacher's assistant gave everyone $25 as they came in.
This time, they found the chairs had been assembled in a U-shape, with 11 at the back, facing toward the lectern and two rows of 11 facing inward on each side. Everyone found a seat.
Again, precisely on time, the teacher came out to the lectern. He told everyone to get up and talk to each other, and sort themselves into 3 groups: those who memorized their poem, those who read it every day without memorizing it and those who stopped reading it.
When they were finished, he asked the 11 to come on stage and recite their poem. They all did so. Each of them really had memorized it.
Then he opened the floor for discussion. People said this and that about what they thought they learned. The teacher said very little back. He mostly prodded them to say more about what they felt about the exercise.
One man said he didn't have time to read it daily. Another said he didn't see the point of his poem.
Then the assistant came out and showed the teacher his envelopes. The teacher nodded, and the assistant handed each person who memorized their poem an envelope.
Then he told the workshop: "I've just given $195 to each of the participants who memorized their poem. That's the remainder of everyone's fee, divided up equally among those 11. Please discuss."
Some people said it was interesting.
Some people said it made them wish they had tried harder.
Some people said they thought it wasn't fair.
Then one man said, "It's harder for some people than others to stick to a habit."
To which the teacher said, "Everyone in this room stuck to a habit."
And then he thanked everyone for coming, and he left the room. And that was the end of the workshop on meaning.
AI & me
Look, I haven't finished my re-read of the book yet, but I think someone could probably watch a YouTube video about this book and then just read this chapter and get quite a lot out of it. It's all in there. At least, everything I've read so far is in there.
And — for Zarathustra — it's comprehensible, though you have to read it closely. I am tempted to write down my takeaway here, but honestly I haven't been doing this project truly in the spirit of what I meant to from the start. I more wanted to make myself write a reaction or a derivative each day, rather than to write my own understanding or criticism of the book.
For me, that's more useful.
So that's what I went for today.
When I was working out my reading plan for the month using ChatGPT, it was very concerned that this morning would be too long a reading session for me — 17 pages. I was like, I can handle one day with 17 pages. And it was like: "OK, whew! Wasn't sure."
The funny thing is Nietzsche seems to have been worried about it, too, because he broke this one up into numbered sections more than he typically does. But it's fine. It's worth it.
What was interesting for me, reading this chapter again, and looking at the pages, is that I marked very little on the pages when I read this last time. It must not have sunk in at all; my eyes just passed over the words. Maybe it was the setting I was in (I remember reading part of this book on an airplane)? Or maybe I just wasn't ready for all these tablets — the smashing, the carving? It's a lot!
There are a few marks, a few notes, so I did read it. There just isn't much. This morning I underlined a lot and wrote a ton of comments in the margins. Whole different experience.
Gimme some tablets! I'm ready!
One line
“The creator is the one they hate most: him who breaks the tablets and old values, the breaker, — him they call the lawbreaker.” —Zarathustra
- The disruptor of yesterday is a saint. The disruptor of today is a sinner.
- No?
—Brady Dale
October 19, 2026