Do What Thou Wilt
Freedom, Others, and the Collapse of the Lie
“Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.” - The Book of the Law
For many, this is a licence for hedonism, misread as selfishness or chaos. But within the framework of Radical Undoing, this phrase becomes something far more dangerous—and far more sacred.
I.
Will Is Not Whim
Radical Undoing begins with collapse. It demands the destruction of the Actor—the performing self that exists to please, to conform, to survive by adapting to external expectations. Only once that shell is broken can we begin to detect the signal of true will.
In this sense, “Do what thou wilt” is not about doing whatever you feel like. The will isn’t your desire to eat cake or win an argument. It is the deep vector of your becoming—the current that runs beneath ego, conditioning, trauma, and social contracts. To live by this will requires that you burn away every false version of yourself. It means silence. Stillness. Listening. Dismantling the lies you inherited about who you are, what the world is, and what is possible.
The will is not democratic. It does not negotiate. It demands obedience—but only after you’ve destroyed every false master, including yourself.
II.
The Other Is Not Your Property
From this standpoint, the question arises: What about other people?
In a world of masks and projections, we treat others as tools, roles, or threats. Parents are providers or tyrants. Lovers are saviours or enemies. Teachers are either prisons or heroes. This is the theatre of the Actor, where no one sees anyone, only their function.
But the one who does their will—truly does it—must abandon the illusion of ownership over others. Radical Undoing strips you of the need to control. You do not require validation, submission, or agreement. You move cleanly. And because you no longer perform, you also no longer demand performance.
To do your will is to move as a force of nature—without apology, and without coercion.
That means others must be free too.
Not ideologically free—existentially free. That is: free to hate you, free to reject you, free to walk away, and free to be wrong. You are not here to fix them, break them, or save them. You are here to walk your line—and let them walk theirs.
If love emerges, it is between wills, not between masks.
III.
Freedom Is Not an Ideology. It Is an Ontology.
Freedom isn’t granted. It isn’t a political position. It is a condition of existence. You are free because you exist outside of anyone else’s control. But most people trade this truth for belonging, status, and safety. They construct a prison called Identity and decorate the cell with memes and values and tribes.
Radical Undoing is the jailbreak. But when you exit that system—when you see your parents as patterns, your society as programming, your preferences as scripts—you don’t become superior.
You become responsible.
To “do what thou wilt” means nothing if it is not chosen over and over in full awareness. Not out of anger. Not out of pride. But because you have no other choice.
It is not moral. It is ontological. You are what you do. And you must own it completely.
IV.
Our View of the World Must Die
Undoing ends the illusion that the world owes you understanding.
Your trauma doesn’t make you special. Your dreams don’t make you correct. Your pain doesn’t make you right.
The world is not here to validate your self-concept.
To walk the path of will, then, is to stop demanding that the world be kind or fair. You become the author. The lawmaker. The builder. You do not ask the world to give you freedom—you build it inside yourself, and let it spill into your life through action, clarity, and boundary.
Your presence becomes dangerous, not because it harms, but because it does not submit.
And this is the real terror: once you do your will, you no longer belong to anyone—not to a class, a faith, a trauma, or a tribe. You walk alone. And only in that aloneness can the others appear—not as functions, but as free, wild, and sovereign beings, just like you.
Do what thou wilt is not a slogan. It is the final invitation after the world has burned.
And what remains, when the lie collapses?
A single, clean line through the chaos—drawn in silence, walked in fire, and held with ruthless love.