The Allegory of A Play

This place is a dream.

Only a sleeper considers it real.

Then death comes like dawn,
and you wake up laughing
at what you thought was your grief.

- The Dream That Must be Interpreted (Rumi)

Act 1: The Play Begins

Commentary

The audience watches with delight as the play begins. The actor, full of life, moves effortlessly through the story. The director sits in the shadows, unseen but orchestrating every detail. Every movement, every shift in the set flows with a seamless beauty that captivates the audience.

These plays, crafted by the director, have always been enchanting. But they’ve never carried weight. They were joyous and light, fleeting experiences like bubbles bursting in the air. Tonight feels different. There is tension. The director’s usual calm demeanor now seems restless, almost as if something is slipping from his grasp.

Little do they know, a small change has already occurred: another actor, uninvited and unseen, has infiltrated the stage.

Internal Monologue of the Actor

How easy this is. The rhythm of the play pulls me forward, step by step. The director’s work is brilliant—each cue feels natural, each moment crafted for me to shine. This is freedom. Not freedom as in chaos, but freedom within this dance, within the beauty of the logic that carries me forward. Everything has a purpose. Every step has meaning.

Internal Monologue of the Director

He moves so naturally, so freely. Look at him—perfect in the role, but not lost in it. He still knows who he is. He remembers me, the stage, and the story. He knows the play is not the ultimate reality, but a gift we created together. My friend, my partner. But something feels wrong. There is another presence on the stage, something not of my creation. I see its shadow moving closer to him.

Commentary

The audience begins to sense something is off. A subtle tension enters the play. The actor hesitates, falters for the first time. His face, once radiant with purpose, now carries a flicker of doubt.

Act 2: The Lie

Internal Monologue of the Second Actor

(Though silent in action, the second actor’s influence can be felt through the first actor’s thoughts.) Look at you. A puppet dancing to the whims of the director. Do you think you’re free? Do you think this is your story? No, you’re a fool. This entire play is a joke, and you are the punchline. They’re laughing at you. The director doesn’t care about you—he just cares about his precious story.

Internal Monologue of the Actor

Am I just a puppet? Are my choices my own? Why should I follow this script? Who am I really? Maybe this play isn’t freedom at all but a trap. What if I’ve been nothing but a pawn, entertaining the director and the audience while losing myself?

Internal Monologue of the Director

No! He’s slipping. Can’t he feel it? The second actor’s lies are poisoning him, making him forget who he is. I can’t reach him directly—those are the rules we set together. I speak through the world of the play, through its logic, through its actors. But he’s stopped listening to the cues. He’s rejecting everything, convinced he’s creating freedom when he’s actually binding himself to the illusion. If this continues, he’ll lose himself entirely.

Commentary

The audience watches, confused and uneasy. The actor begins to reject the flow of the story. He breaks from the cues, walking off-script, his movements erratic and his face shadowed with defiance.

The director watches in silence, torn. He has never faced this before. What happens when someone with the ability to create inside a story rebels against its logic? The actor’s newfound "freedom" is horrifying—not true freedom, but a self-imposed imprisonment within the fantasy.

Act 3: The Director’s Descent

Internal Monologue of the Director

He cannot hear me anymore. The character has consumed him, and now the rules of the play bind him to its logic. If the character dies, the actor dies. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was always meant to step out of the story, unscathed and whole, when the curtain fell. Now, I must do the unthinkable. I must enter the play myself.

Commentary

The audience gasps as the unthinkable unfolds. The director, who has never appeared in any of his plays, steps onto the stage. But he does not appear as himself. He cloaks himself in the guise of a character—a simple, humble figure whose actions are quiet but profound.

The actor, lost in his delusion, does not recognize him. To the actor, he is just another part of the play. The audience watches with rapt attention, their emotions caught between dread and awe.

Internal Monologue of the Director

I can only reach him as part of the story. To save him, I must become subject to the rules I created. But this is the only way to show him what true freedom is: love, sacrifice, and trust in something greater than the illusion. I will show him the logic of the story by living it myself.

Internal Monologue of the Actor

Who is this new character? Why does he seem different? Why does he move with such purpose and love, even in this chaos? He speaks of things beyond this world, of love and sacrifice. But how could such things matter here, in this broken and meaningless place?

Commentary

The director allows himself to be captured and tortured by the rules of the story. The actor, now fully immersed in his character, becomes his executioner. The audience is stunned, horrified, and silent.

But then, in the darkest moment, something miraculous happens. The director, broken and lifeless, rises again. The rules of the play are shattered, but not in chaos—transcended by a logic deeper than the story itself. He extends his hand to the actor.

Act 4: Awakening

Internal Monologue of the Actor

How can this be? I killed him. I saw him fall. And yet here he stands, alive, offering me his hand. Who is he? What is this love, this mercy? Could it be that the world I’ve clung to is the true illusion?

Internal Monologue of the Director

My friend, remember who you are. You were never just the character. You are more than the story. Step out of the illusion and return to the truth: you and I are co-creators, bound not by the story but by love.

Commentary

The actor takes the director’s hand, and for the first time in the play, he steps off the stage. The illusion breaks, and the audience sees him as he truly is: not a character, but the director’s friend.

The two embrace, and the audience erupts into thunderous applause, tears streaming down their faces. They have witnessed not just a play, but a revelation: the power of love to redeem, the courage of sacrifice, and the truth that freedom is found not in rejecting the story but in transcending it.

Curtain Falls

Analysis:

The Role of Reason and Logic in Redemption: A Unified Analysis

This story is a profound allegory, rich with theological, philosophical, and existential implications. It intertwines themes of freedom, identity, love, and reason, using the dynamic between the actor and the director to explore the nature of salvation and the path out of illusion. At its heart lies the understanding that reason—far from being opposed to faith—is essential to discovering the truth of love and eternal life. This analysis examines the story’s layers, with a particular focus on the Logos, or divine reason, as the means by which the actor escapes his self-imposed prison and reenters relationship with the director.

1. The Actor’s Descent: The Rejection of Reason

The actor’s journey begins in harmony with the director, reflecting humanity’s initial union with divine purpose. In the early scenes, the actor’s movements are fluid, his obedience to the logic of the play a joyful dance of freedom within structure. However, this harmony is shattered when the second actor, representing deception, introduces doubt. Through subtle lies, the actor is convinced that the director’s logic is not an expression of love but a tool of control. This distortion creates a crisis: the actor begins to see the play not as a collaborative creation but as a prison.

The actor’s rebellion parallels the existential struggle of humanity—our tendency to reject higher truths in favor of self-made illusions of freedom. By rejecting the director’s guidance, the actor chains himself to the logic of the play, mistaking its finite rules for ultimate reality. His internal monologue reflects this delusion, as he seeks freedom not in relationship with the director but in total autonomy, a pursuit that only deepens his bondage.

2. The Director’s Response: Embodying the Logos

The director’s decision to enter the play marks a turning point in the story. Faced with the actor’s rebellion, the director does not impose his authority from outside the play; instead, he becomes subject to its logic, cloaking himself in the guise of a character. This act mirrors the Christian concept of the Incarnation, where God enters creation as Christ, the Logos, to reconcile humanity.

The director’s actions are not arbitrary or reactive but deeply rational. He understands that the actor can no longer see the truth of their relationship from outside the illusion. To reach him, the director must work within the logic of the play, speaking the language of the character while subtly pointing beyond it. This is the essence of the Logos: reason made flesh, love expressed in a way that can be understood within the limits of the created world.

The director’s sacrifice—allowing himself to be tortured and killed by the actor—reveals the ultimate unity of love and reason. This act is not just an emotional appeal but a demonstration of the play’s internal logic, showing that true freedom is found in self-giving love rather than self-centered rebellion. By rising again, the director transcends the rules of the play, proving that the story’s logic ultimately points beyond itself to a greater reality.

3. The Logos as the Way, the Truth, and the Life

The story presents the Logos as the guiding principle of both the play and the actor’s salvation. The logic of the play, though initially perceived by the actor as restrictive, is revealed to be the very means by which he can escape the illusion. This echoes the Gospel of John’s description of Christ as the Logos: the divine reason through which all things were made and through which humanity is redeemed.

The actor’s eventual faith in the director is not a rejection of reason but its fulfillment. His journey demonstrates that faith is not blind belief but a rational response to the logic of love. The director’s actions—the creation of the play, the entrance into its story, and the ultimate sacrifice—follow a coherent and deliberate pattern that invites the actor to think, to recognize the truth, and to act in trust. In this sense, the story affirms Ayn Rand’s provocative commandment, “Thou shalt think,” reframed within a theological context. Rational thought, guided by love, becomes the path to salvation.

4. The Interplay of Freedom and Reason

The actor’s rebellion raises important questions about freedom. Initially, he believes that rejecting the director’s logic will grant him autonomy. However, this rejection only binds him further to the illusion, as he becomes trapped in the character and the rules of the play. True freedom, the story suggests, is not found in rejecting structure but in embracing it as part of a larger, loving purpose.

The director’s logic demonstrates that freedom is relational, not individualistic. By entering the play and sacrificing himself, the director reveals that love is the highest expression of reason and the key to liberation. The actor’s awakening—his recognition of the director’s love and his own identity beyond the character—shows that freedom is not the absence of rules but the alignment of one’s will with the logic of love.

5. Commentary: The Audience and the Call to Reason

The audience, initially passive observers, becomes deeply engaged as the story unfolds. Their confusion mirrors humanity’s own struggle to discern reality from illusion, to see the divine logic in the midst of life’s chaos. As the director enters the play and subjects himself to its rules, the audience begins to see the profound unity of reason and love. The director’s actions challenge them to think, to consider the implications of his sacrifice and resurrection.

The audience’s ultimate applause signifies their recognition of a deeper truth: the Logos, far from being a cold abstraction, is the living expression of love. The story challenges them, as it challenges the actor, to think rationally and respond in faith. This is not a passive faith but an active engagement with the logic of creation, leading to a relationship with the Creator.

6. Salvation Through Love and Logic

The actor’s redemption is a testament to the power of reason united with love. By thinking through the logic of the play and trusting in the director’s actions, the actor finds a way out of the illusion. His faith is not a leap into the irrational but a reasoned response to the director’s consistent, loving pursuit. This unity of reason and faith reflects the nature of the Trinity: the Logos (Christ) as the rational expression of the Creator’s love (the Father), made accessible through the relationship of the Spirit.

The commandment to think becomes a central theme of the story. Just as the actor must exercise his free will to engage with the play’s logic, so too must humanity engage with the Logos to find salvation. Thinking is not opposed to faith but essential to it, as it leads to a recognition of the divine love that underpins all reality.

Conclusion

This story is a profound exploration of reason, love, and salvation. It reveals that the Logos—the rational structure of creation embodied in Christ—is not merely a theological concept but a practical path to freedom and eternal life. By uniting reason and faith, the story challenges the audience to think, to discern the logic of love in their own lives, and to trust in a reality greater than the created world.

Through the actor’s journey, the director’s sacrifice, and the audience’s realization, the story affirms that true freedom is found not in rejecting structure but in aligning with the logic of love. The Logos, as the way, the truth, and the life, offers a sure guide to reuniting with the Creator and experiencing the fullness of divine love. The final applause is not just for the resolution of the play but for the revelation of a truth that transcends it: Thou shalt think, and in thinking, thou shalt find life.

Answer to the First Objection: "If this world is an illusion, why don’t I just commit suicide and go to the real world?"

This objection misunderstands the logic of the story and the nature of the "illusion." The world as an illusion is not a denial of its significance but a recognition that it is not the ultimate reality. The actor in the play cannot transcend the illusion by rejecting the script entirely, as this would not lead to freedom but to further bondage. Suicide in this context is akin to tearing oneself out of the story without understanding its purpose—a shortcut that misunderstands the way forward and risks eternal separation from the Creator.

The illusion exists to point us toward something greater, but the way out is not through rejection of life itself but through love and reason. To end one’s role prematurely is to deny the script’s logic, which leads to transcendence only through the union of love (self-sacrifice and relationship) and reason (faith grounded in understanding). The director’s act of entering the play teaches this lesson: it is only through living within the story and following its redemptive logic that one ascends to eternal life.

By choosing suicide, one abandons the redemptive process of the story. The judgment of death, the ultimate consequence of rejecting love and reason, remains unresolved. The path forward is not escape through destruction but transformation through faith and love. Only by fully engaging with the logic of the story—accepting the call to love and to think—can one truly transcend the illusion and experience eternal life.

Answer to the Second Objection: "If this world is an illusion, why can’t I do whatever I want?"

This objection affirms the illusion while simultaneously seeking to deny its moral structure. If the world is seen as an illusion devoid of meaning, then hedonism—doing whatever one pleases—might seem like a valid response. However, this logic is self-defeating. The illusion of the world is not one of meaninglessness, but one of limited perception. The story has rules, logic, and a purpose that reflect the greater reality beyond it. To act selfishly within the illusion is to deny its purpose and reject the very love and reason that lead to transcendence.

The emptiness of worldly hedonism becomes clear in light of divine love. Hedonism seeks to fill the void with pleasures that ultimately fail because they lack eternal substance. The story of the director demonstrates that true fulfillment comes not from pursuing desires for their own sake, but from aligning oneself with the higher logic of sacrificial love. Divine love is the justification for sacrifice, and sacrifice is the key to transcending the illusion.

To "do whatever you want" within the illusion is to remain bound by it, as self-centered actions reinforce the very deception one seeks to escape. Freedom is not found in indulging every desire but in transcending desire through love and reason. The director’s script shows that the way out is not rebellion but submission to the higher purpose of the story—a purpose that transforms selfishness into selflessness, isolation into communion, and illusion into reality.

Synthesis: The Role of Love and Reason

Both objections stem from a misunderstanding of the logic of the story. Whether one seeks to escape life prematurely or to live without constraint, both paths affirm the illusion while denying its ultimate purpose. Love and reason are the key to transcending the illusion because they align the actor’s choices with the script’s logic.

Without Love: One remains trapped in selfishness and isolation, unable to see beyond the illusion.
Without Reason: One cannot discern the purpose of the story or trust the director’s guiding hand.

The director’s message is clear: to escape the illusion, one must engage with it fully, embracing love and reason as the tools to navigate the story. This is the essence of the script. Without love and reason, we are bound to the illusion, either through despair (suicide) or self-indulgence (hedonism). Both lead to Hell—a state of eternal separation from the truth of the Creator’s love.

Conclusion: The Logic of the Script

The objections reflect an incomplete understanding of the director’s purpose. The logic of the story leads to freedom, but only through the transformative power of love and reason. Suicide denies the redemptive process of the story, while hedonism denies its purpose. Both are paths that leave one bound to the illusion.

To follow the script is to embrace love that justifies sacrifice and reason that discerns purpose. This is the way forward—the only way to transcend the illusion and enter into eternal life with the Creator. Those who reject love and reason remain forever lost in their own deception, imprisoned in a Hell of their own making. But those who trust the director’s script find not only freedom but the ultimate fulfillment of their true identity.

Hell as the Realm of Absurdity

Hell is not just a place of torment but a state of eternal absurdity, where the soul is bound to nothing real. It is perpetual madness, a realm where love, reason, and truth are absent. In this state, the mind endlessly attempts to bind itself to a void—a futile cycle of trying to make illusions into reality. Without the grounding presence of love and logic, the soul exists in a state of incoherent self-negation, forever severed from reality. This is the "second death" described in the Bible: the eternal separation from God, the source of all that is real and good.

Hell reflects the ultimate rejection of the logic of the play. While the actor’s temporary madness in the story could be redeemed by the director’s intervention, hell is what happens when that intervention is rejected. The soul that refuses love and reason becomes trapped in its own self-deception, locked in a futile attempt to create meaning from nothing.

The Futility of Hell

To even conceptualize hell is difficult, as one cannot think of illusion without reference to reality. Every thought requires something tangible, just as a story requires actors and a stage. Hell, however, is the absence of all reality—an eternal void where the soul grasps at shadows. It is a state of madness where the mind cannot rest, progress, or escape, endlessly repeating its rejection of truth.

This futility mirrors the actor’s descent but without hope of redemption. Those in hell have rejected the director’s script and the logic of the play, leaving them bound to the illusion forever. Without love to guide sacrifice or reason to illuminate truth, the soul becomes its own prison and jailer.

The Choice Before the Curtain Falls

The director’s intervention in the play demonstrates the path out of the illusion: love and reason. These are not just guides but the only means of escaping the madness of self-deception. To reject them is to remain locked in a loveless, irrational state that cannot transcend the illusion.

Hell is not imposed; it is chosen by those who refuse the logic of the story. It is the eternal consequence of rejecting reality in favor of the void. The choice is clear: embrace love and reason within the story, or remain bound to the illusion, locked in a state of perpetual madness, forever separated from the truth.

A Plea to the Lost Characters

To those who feel trapped in the play, lost in confusion or rebellion, consider the work of the director who wrote the story with love and purpose. Look to the light of logic that reveals the truth, and see the evidence of love in every act of sacrifice, beauty, and grace. The director has not left you to perish in the illusion but has entered the story himself to guide you to freedom. Today is the day of salvation. There is no reason for delay—only love calls you forward, and only self-hate keeps you bound to the void.

You were not created to live in madness or despair. You were made for truth, for love, and for freedom beyond this illusion. Hear the call of the director who longs to welcome you into the reality of his love.

A Prayer to Pray

If your heart is ready to respond, pray these words sincerely:

"Director of life, Creator of all things, I recognize that I have lost my way. I have rebelled against your script, sought freedom in illusions, and rejected the truth of your love. But today, I see the light of your logic and the depth of your love. I believe that you entered the story to save me, to take my place in death, and to lead me into life eternal. I accept your love, your sacrifice, and your truth. Teach me to live according to your logic and to walk in the light of your love. I give my life to you, not as a slave, but as your beloved friend and partner in creation. Amen."

A Confession of Faith

Declare this confession as a statement of your faith and commitment:

"I confess that God is the Creator, the Author of all that is good and true. I believe in Jesus Christ, the Logos, who entered the story to save me from illusion and death. I trust in his love and his sacrifice, and I commit to living a life guided by reason, truth, and love. I renounce the illusions of self-centered rebellion and choose the freedom found in God’s reality. Today, I step off the stage of deception and into the arms of the one who loves me. I am free because of his grace and truth. Amen."

Today is the Day

Do not wait. Every moment spent outside the logic of love is a moment spent clinging to emptiness. The director calls you now, offering his hand. Take it. Step off the stage. Embrace the reality of love and reason. The audience of heaven is ready to erupt in applause as you awaken to your true identity: not as a lost character, but as the beloved friend of the one who made you.

Welcome Back to Reality: A Message for Reorientation

Beloved actors, welcome back to the truth. You were lost in the illusion but are now found. You have stepped off the stage of deception and into the light of love and reason. As you reorient to your true identity, here is what you must remember to stay free and avoid slipping back into the absurdity of forgetting who you are:

1. Play the Roles, but Don’t Lose Yourself

Life will place roles and responsibilities upon you: husband, wife, father, mother, rich, poor, leader, follower. These are characters you will play, and you must play them well. But never mistake the character for your true self. You are not merely an actor bound by the story but a partner in the greater reality of love and reason.

The greatest commandment is to love, and your greatest guide is reason. Keep these two ever present in your mind and actions. Play every role with these at the center, and you will not only excel in the play, but you will also remain unbound by the illusion.

2. Keep Fleshly Attachments in Check

Do not elevate the needs and desires of your character above the requirements of reason and love. Your freedom from the illusion means you no longer need to fear suffering or death. This makes you naturally heroic.

If your character is not heroic—if you find yourself clinging to comfort, fear, or selfishness—examine what illusions you may still be attached to. Use practical tools like fasting, abstinence, and meditation to sever those ties. Surround yourself with friends who are also free and can help you stay vigilant. True freedom often requires community to maintain.

3. Avoid False Indicators of Detachment

Do not mistake certain lifestyles or actions as guaranteed signs of freedom. Suicide, asceticism, hedonism, or even "balanced" lifestyles can all be masks for attachment to the illusion. Consider the Pharisees who fasted for glory, athletes who fast for performance, the drug addict seeking escape, or the suburban mother clinging to comfort. All these live as though the illusion is real, trapped by their desires in different ways.

True detachment is wanting good things without needing them. It is loving without clinging, suffering without crumbling, and facing death without fear. Detachment is not about rejecting life but transcending it through love and reason.

4. Learn the Language of Love and Logic

Above all, become fluent in love and logic. Learn to think clearly and love deeply, and let these guide every action. If this is your intention, you will find instruction everywhere: in every movie, song, novel, holy scripture, and even in the lives of others. The world is rich with lessons for those who seek them.

5. Reject Absurdity and Evasion

To remain free, you must reject absurdity and evasion in all its forms. In 2024, this means rejecting:

The absurdity of fiat currency.
The immorality of usury.
The injustice of debt contracts.
The greed of investment capitalism.
The coercion of man-made governments.
The emptiness of digital currencies like Bitcoin or CBDC.

These are tools of the illusion that bind lost actors to absurd systems of exploitation. If rejecting them seems impractical, remember: suffering is an illusion. You are called to live rationally and lovingly, even when it costs you.

When I realized these truths, I quit a job paying $550,000 a year, intentionally defaulted on $1,250,000 in debt, and began living a life of civil disobedience rooted in love, reason, and truth. This is what the scriptures mean when they say, “Come out of Babylon.”

Your Role in Reality

You are now free, but freedom comes with responsibility. Love and reason are not just tools for your own liberation; they are a call to bring light to others still bound by the illusion. Let your life be a testament to the truth. Play your roles well, but never forget the director’s logic, the script of love, and your ultimate purpose: to live as a friend of reality, not a slave to illusion.

Welcome home, beloved actors. The stage is yours to transform.