Automythopoesis: "self myth-making". What happens to a culture, to the individual psyche, in the absence of a functioning mythology? When gods die, and myth becomes petrifact, do we awaken into a world more rational and objective? Or are we left in their wake with the loss of collective identity, siloed in algorithmically engineered bubbles, vulnerable to mental illnesses, predatory institutions and ideological possession? What is the meaning of our lives? Who are we as a people? Where are we going as a species? Our answers to these primary questions now seem to be to either seek nourishment from the corpse of archaic revivalism, flee with nihilistic abandon into addiction and mindless consumerism, or welcome the warm embrace of totalitarian certainty and tribalistic scapegoating. There has to be another way, and something new can only come from that very same void out of which everything comes. Nature abhors a vacuum; what will emerge if we simply stop trying to fill the God-shaped hole in the soul, and let it speak to us?