Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is a pyramid scheme

And why we’re all lugging around a 6000-pound sack of existential potatoes that’s definitely not from Whole Foods

Abraham Maslow, in a fit of inspiration (or possibly just to avoid doing his taxes), crafted his Hierarchy of Needs in the 1940s. It was meant to be the ultimate guide to human motivation—sort of like a treasure map, except instead of gold, the prize was “self-actualization,” which sounds profound until you realize no one actually knows what it looks like.

The premise was simple. First, secure your basic needs—food, water, a roof over your head. Then, with your stomach full and your bones relatively unbroken, you could graduate to making friends, feeling good about yourself, and—if all went well—achieving the mystical enlightenment of personal growth. It was essentially an IKEA instruction manual for the human soul—follow the steps, don’t skip ahead, and whatever you do, don’t question the design, even if it wobbles dangerously to the left.

This whole structure wasn’t built to help you thrive—it was built to keep you manageable. A tidy little progression that ensures you stay just comfortable enough to stop asking inconvenient questions, should you risk losing it all. You get so busy chasing security—like a dog mesmerized by a particularly juicy tennis ball—that you don’t notice when the walls start closing in. The moment you stop questioning? Boom. You become less like an incredible ball of stardust floating through the ether to a shell of a person who confuses greatness for a pretentious display of clout.

And then there’s the supposed fulfillment—society’s ultimate bait-and-switch. They sell it like a prize you unlock at the end of a long, socially approved scavenger hunt. Get the degree, the job, the ergonomic office chair, and suddenly—poof—happiness! But how do you know you’ll even like the reward if you never actually stopped to taste it? It’s like dedicating your whole life to recreating a five-star soufflé, only to realize, upon first bite, that you actually hate soufflé.

But you weren’t made to be just another cog in the machine, quietly ticking off society’s to-do list. You were made to seek out the wonder and the truth of life, to stand on the edge of the unknown and feel the thrill of it all. To dive into the mysteries that call to you, knowing that in the search itself, you become both the seeker and the guide. And in that pursuit, you don’t just find your own path—you become a beacon for other truth-seekers, adventurers, and dreamers, lighting the way for those who still dare to ask, What else is out there to discover and create? In living fully, you cause a ripple effect that inspires others to wake up, venture into the world with open eyes, and become the kind of salvation this world so desperately needs.

If you follow Maslow’s pyramid step-by-step, you won’t reach your highest potential—you get someone who built their entire sense of self around external validation and lies.

You ever notice how truly self-actualized people don’t get there by gradually climbing some neat little staircase? No! The people who genuinely transform usually get there after their entire lives are obliterated. You never hear:

My 401(k) is thriving, my social circle is stable, and now, finally, I am one with the universe.

You hear:

I lost everything and realized I was never who I thought I was.

I faced death, and suddenly, all my priorities changed.

I hit rock bottom and found a strength I didn’t know I had.

Turns out, true self-actualization isn’t the final reward for following society’s script—it’s what happens when the whole damn script gets thrown into the shredder.

A higher truth for our crumbling society

You ever notice how reality doesn’t care about your feelings? Like, when I lost my job and applied everywhere. It wasn’t until I was on my last penny that the universe finally came through for me—and it was the perfect one. That’s Logos—the thing that reminds you that it is in charge and not you and your control issues.

It’s not some hippie-dippie self-help mantra. It’s the structure of reality itself. The ancient Greeks called it divine reason. The Stoics said it’s the order that governs everything. And John-with-no-last-name called it the Word—as in, the thing that made the whole damn universe. No big deal.

And yet, here you are, watching people reject it because they developed their sense of self with main character energy. You’ve seen it—someone doubling down on an obviously terrible belief because admitting they were wrong would make them sad. It’s like watching someone drive full speed into a brick wall because acknowledging the brick wall would hurt their feelings.

You can ignore it for a while, sure, but the longer you pretend reality isn’t real, the harder it’s going to hurt. And at some point, you either wake up and course-correct or you become that guy still insisting the brick wall was a social construct while picking shards of windshield out of his teeth.

"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost.”
— Bilbo Baggins, The Fellowship of the Ring

I give you: Logos hierarchy of needs

Level 1: Know thyself and find your purpose

Alright, so let’s get one thing straight—not dying is sort of the bare minimum for survival. You don’t get a gold star for remembering to breathe. That’s just basic operating procedure, like a computer turning on or a dog instinctively knowing how to wag its tail.

Survival isn’t just about staying alive—it’s about knowing why you’re alive. So let’s go ahead and lump “not dying” under knowing thyself, because if you don’t figure out who you are, what your purpose is, and how to avoid becoming another hamster on the world’s worst corporate wheel, then congrats—you’re just a highly functional houseplant with a 401(k).

And look, society loves when you don’t ask these questions. It wants you content, busy, and mildly sedated with just enough creature comforts to keep you from wondering why your soul feels like it’s running on Windows 95. But here’s the truth—self-actualization isn’t some luxury you unlock after you’ve checked off life’s to-do list. It’s the prerequisite for everything else.

Because if you don’t know yourself, then who exactly is out here surviving?

Level 2: Question everything until you’re sufficiently humbled

Like, every little thing. Question why the sky’s blue, question why your socks disappear in the laundry, heck, question why pizza’s a thing but pineapple on it still feels like a crime against humanity. Keep asking, digging, poking around, until you’ve got a pile of answers, some of which might make sense and others that’ll make you question your very existence.

But—and here’s the catch—when you’ve questioned enough, when you’ve peeled back enough layers of the onion of reality, you’ll eventually reach this one, very uncomfortable spot where you realize...you don’t know anything. Yeah, you thought you were going to find the ultimate truth, but instead, you find humility. Because once you realize how small you really are, and how much there is to actually learn, that’s when the whole world opens up and humbles you in ways you never expected. And maybe, just maybe, that’s when you begin to get that sometimes, you’ve gotta let the questions just hang there, unanswered, because the answer..is probably not the point.

Otherwise, you’ll end up nodding along to some guy named Brayden explaining how hustle culture is the new enlightenment, all while he’s selling you a 6-step course on how to find your millionaire mindset.

Level 3: Become something by virtue you’re actually proud of

Knowing stuff is cute, but it’s just a fancy way of filling your head with empty knowledge if it doesn’t lead to virtue. You can memorize every fact in the world and win every argument on the internet, but when Logos rears its ugly head, that knowledge won’t soften the blow.

The only way to dodge the inevitable brick wall is to become something—something of virtue. Build discipline, cultivate wisdom, and create a heart that stands firm in righteousness, no matter how strong the storm may be. Because life is going to level up whether you like it or not. It’s up to you to gain the experience points that rewards you with feature upgrades. Will you be able to develop Stoneskin so you can punch through the wall like Iron Man? Would be a neat party trick.

Level 4: Grow strong roots and make meaningful relationships

Alright, so now that you can walk through walls, you no longer need a group of friends to tell you that windshield-sized scar on your face is hot. You’ve built some discipline, figured out the most fun way to level up, and maybe even grew a spine. Look at you go, my friend!

Now go make real connections. Not the Instagram-perfect, "look at my flawless life and my friends who also have flawless lives" kind of connections. No, no—I'm talking about the deep, messy, “I can’t believe I just shared that with you” kind of connections. The ones that make you laugh until your stomach hurts and sometimes make you cringe so hard you need a moment to recover.

Level 5: Be secure

If you’ve nailed the first four steps, building something that actually holds up when life gets a little...unpredictable will come naturally. This is about making sure your foundation isn’t a pile of flimsy stuff that’ll collapse at the first gust of wind.

So, when the world gets wobbly and everyone’s spinning out like a bunch of toddlers on a sugar high, you’re not the one flying off the rails like a poorly-made rollercoaster. Nope. You’re the one whose feet are planted solid, like an oak tree with roots so deep, it would take a thousand storms to even make it flinch.

Level 6: Truth alignment

And before you know it, you've crossed mountains, made friends, faced dragons (well, perhaps not literal ones), and through every trial and every test, you see—the pieces of the puzzle begin to fit together. You start to understand that the little things you once thought insignificant have been part of a grander design all along. Truth doesn’t just land in your lap—no, it unfolds with time, sometimes slowly, sometimes in unexpected bursts. But when it does, it’s like suddenly realizing that the stars themselves were always pointing you in the right direction, even when you weren’t paying attention.

And by the end, as you sit back—perhaps in a quiet corner of your own home, or by the fire in a dimly lit tavern, not so far from the place where you began—you realize it wasn’t about what you gained, or the treasure you thought you were after. It was about who you became in the process. The universe, dear friend, was never something to fear. It was always something you were destined to walk with, step by step. And in the end, you realize you’ve been home all along.