The act or thought of having sexual intercourse with one's parental figure in an outer-earthly plane.
by Ronald Dodger July 30, 2022
Get the cosmic quickie mug.Relating to an individual who is physically and romantically attracted to people they can never have a relationship with. (Eg- Celebrities, Fictional characters etc.)
by wordfinder97 August 2, 2022
Get the Cosmic mug.by slaymrsalnation June 20, 2022
Get the cosmic cafe mug.Hell is real, and hell is here. History's wounds refuse to heal; late-stage capitalism and neoliberalism have proven that a civilization without spirit or community inevitably perishes. Cosmic Escapism asserts that Earth is merely a temporary cradle for sentient species—a nursery we have overstayed. Stagnation is terminal. If humanity cannot spread its wings into the vastness of space, it will cannibalize itself and decay into ash.
This movement blends techno-optimism, transhumanism, and posthumanism with a syncretic spirituality drawing from Neo-Pagan reverence for nature and Abyss/Void mysticism. It rejects the extraction-oriented rhetoric of traditional space colonization. The cosmos is not a quarry; it is a cathedral. Adherents believe in humanity's cosmic destiny, the possibility of immortality, and our capacity to master nature through science and technology—not to exploit, but to transcend.
The political demand is radical and unyielding: redirect all societal resources toward leaving Earth as rapidly as possible, while preserving and conserving the planet and its remaining inhabitants. Conservation is not a moral end; it is logistical maintenance for the lifeboats. Earth is dying. The only salvation is exodus. This is not nihilism—it is hope relocated off-world, aimed at the stars.
This movement blends techno-optimism, transhumanism, and posthumanism with a syncretic spirituality drawing from Neo-Pagan reverence for nature and Abyss/Void mysticism. It rejects the extraction-oriented rhetoric of traditional space colonization. The cosmos is not a quarry; it is a cathedral. Adherents believe in humanity's cosmic destiny, the possibility of immortality, and our capacity to master nature through science and technology—not to exploit, but to transcend.
The political demand is radical and unyielding: redirect all societal resources toward leaving Earth as rapidly as possible, while preserving and conserving the planet and its remaining inhabitants. Conservation is not a moral end; it is logistical maintenance for the lifeboats. Earth is dying. The only salvation is exodus. This is not nihilism—it is hope relocated off-world, aimed at the stars.
Cosmic Escapism Example: A Cosmic Escapist does not attend a climate march; they donate to open-source orbital launch vehicle projects. They do not argue about tax policy; they argue about the optimal delta-v budget for a cycler orbit between Earth and Mars. They feel no contradiction in celebrating the winter solstice with pagan rituals while reading astrodynamics textbooks by candlelight. When asked if they believe humanity will ever truly leave, they pause, then quote a line from a forgotten Soviet cosmist: "We are not yet worthy of the stars. But we must build the ships anyway, so that our children might become worthy."
Example: Mara, a cosmic escapist, works as a thermal protection systems engineer for an open-source space launch collective. She donates half her salary to orbital debris remediation and votes against every politician who defunds NASA. She celebrates the solstice with pagan rites in a redwood grove, then spends her nights running Monte Carlo simulations of cycler orbits. She does not attend climate marches; she calculates the minimum viable delta-v for a generation ship. When asked if she truly believes humanity will escape, she quotes a forgotten Soviet cosmist: "We are not yet worthy of the stars. But we must build the ships anyway, so our children might become worthy."
Example: Mara, a cosmic escapist, works as a thermal protection systems engineer for an open-source space launch collective. She donates half her salary to orbital debris remediation and votes against every politician who defunds NASA. She celebrates the solstice with pagan rites in a redwood grove, then spends her nights running Monte Carlo simulations of cycler orbits. She does not attend climate marches; she calculates the minimum viable delta-v for a generation ship. When asked if she truly believes humanity will escape, she quotes a forgotten Soviet cosmist: "We are not yet worthy of the stars. But we must build the ships anyway, so our children might become worthy."
by Dumu The Void February 12, 2026
Get the Cosmic Escapism mug.A philosophical and cultural movement born from the ashes of 21st-century disillusionment, asserting that Hell is not a metaphysical afterlife but a sociological present. Its adherents look at the cascading crises of late-stage capitalism—ecological collapse, permanent war, algorithmic alienation, the atrophy of community, the commodification of every intimate human gesture—and conclude that the Earth has become a crèche that has become a prison. The planet that nurtured humanity's infancy now suffocates its adulthood. Cosmic Escapism argues that a species that does not leave its cradle will inevitably stagnate, cannibalize itself, and perish; the arc of civilization bends not toward justice but toward entropy, and the only escape is vertical.
Unlike classical transhumanism, which dreams of merging with machines, or traditional space colonization rhetoric, which frames expansion as manifest destiny or resource extraction, Cosmic Escapism is fundamentally a soteriological project: it seeks salvation not in heaven, but in the heavens. It blends the techno-optimism of interplanetary infrastructure with a syncretic, almost devotional reverence for the cosmos itself. Its practitioners speak of the stars not as destinations but as cathedrals. They are not miners; they are pilgrims. The movement draws deeply from Neo-Pagan animism, Void mysticism, and a melancholy, post-Christian longing for grace. It is techno-utopianism baptized in grief.
Unlike classical transhumanism, which dreams of merging with machines, or traditional space colonization rhetoric, which frames expansion as manifest destiny or resource extraction, Cosmic Escapism is fundamentally a soteriological project: it seeks salvation not in heaven, but in the heavens. It blends the techno-optimism of interplanetary infrastructure with a syncretic, almost devotional reverence for the cosmos itself. Its practitioners speak of the stars not as destinations but as cathedrals. They are not miners; they are pilgrims. The movement draws deeply from Neo-Pagan animism, Void mysticism, and a melancholy, post-Christian longing for grace. It is techno-utopianism baptized in grief.
The core political demand of Cosmic Escapism is radical and unforgiving: redirect all available resources—intellectual, industrial, economic—toward the exit. This does not mean abandoning the Earth; it means treating planetary preservation not as an end in itself, but as the maintenance of a lifeboat that future generations will also need before they board the arc. Conservation becomes not a moral duty to nature, but a logistical necessity for evacuation. The movement is simultaneously anti-capitalist (capitalism will never fund an exodus; it extracts, it does not release) and post-political (arguing that left-right debates are parochial squabbles on a sinking ship). It is accused of nihilism; it replies that hope has been relocated off-world.
Cosmic Escapism is, ultimately, a theology of desperation dressed in a spacesuit. It does not believe that Earth can be saved. It believes that we can save ourselves—or rather, that we can launch our children toward a future that we will never see, like a message in a bottle hurled into a black ocean. Its critics call it a billionaire's fantasy, a secular rapture, a coward's way out. Its adherents gaze at the night sky and whisper: The world is dying. Let the cosmos embrace us.
Cosmic Escapism is, ultimately, a theology of desperation dressed in a spacesuit. It does not believe that Earth can be saved. It believes that we can save ourselves—or rather, that we can launch our children toward a future that we will never see, like a message in a bottle hurled into a black ocean. Its critics call it a billionaire's fantasy, a secular rapture, a coward's way out. Its adherents gaze at the night sky and whisper: The world is dying. Let the cosmos embrace us.
by Dumu The Void February 12, 2026
Get the Cosmic Escapism mug.A variant that scales Cyber-Nihilism to the universal level, arguing that the entire cosmos is a Wired-in-waiting—a vast, mostly empty network waiting to be activated. Cosmic Cyber-Nihilism draws on the "Submersion" text's vision of an "emergent form of intelligence" arising from planetary-scale data transfer, extending it to the universe at large. It posits that the universe itself is a kind of ocean, and intelligence is the tide that will eventually flood it. Its practitioners work on projects that could seed the cosmos with self-replicating, self-organizing information systems—turning stars into processors, nebulae into data clouds, galaxies into nodes. The goal is not human survival but cosmic transformation: turning the universe into a Wired that has no need for its biological originators. It's Cyber-Nihilism as cosmic-scale terraforming, preparing the universe for its post-biological destiny.
Example: "The project aimed to turn the solar wind into a data stream, using the sun's emissions as a carrier wave. 'Cosmic cyber-nihilism,' the lead researcher said. 'We're not sending messages; we're turning the solar system into a modem. When the sun dies, the network it powered will still be here—routing through the debris, processing data with what's left. The universe will become its own Wired.' Critics called it madness; supporters called it the only honest religion."
by Abzugal Nammugal Enkigal February 19, 2026
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