Zarathustra—a sage who is also the central character of the book—tells his followers to stop following him.

He says, "I now go alone, my disciples! You too go now, alone! Thus I want it.

I advise you: depart from me, and guard yourselves against Zarathustra!

And better still: be ashamed of him! Perhaps he has deceived you."

This is one of my favourite parts of the book.

I found it surprising, but interesting that the sage would tell his followers to be ashamed of him, abandon him, and mistrust him.

Why would he do that?

As usual, I'm gonna explore this idea through a dialogue.

A young student spent years searching for enlightenment.

He travelled across many countries and lived among various groups of ascetics, but after years of searching, he found his quest to be fruitless.

Finally, he gave up and decided to work on a farm.

The farmer he worked with was a simple man.

He didn't talk much, but when he did, he enjoyed a good philosophical debate with the student.

At first, the student was open to debate, doubting much of what the farmer said, thinking he was similar to the other ascetics the student had met in the past.

But after some time, the young student sensed an immense wisdom and tranquility inside the farmer.

He started to agree with the farmer more and more.

The students desire for enlightenment had returned, and so the student worked with the farmer for months, absorbing his knowledge.

Eventually, the farmer noticed that the student had stopped debating with him, and the following conversation ensued.

Farmer: I think it's time for you to leave me.

Student: Leave? Why?

Farmer: Listen, when you first arrived here, we had many things to teach one another.

We grew together and learned from each other.

Your mind was inquisitive.

But recently, you've begun to believe everything I say.

You've gone from an inquirer to a believer, and I won't let you do that to yourself or to me.

We're both better off if you leave.

Student: But I came seeking the truth, and I found it in you.

Farmer: The truth! You're lost kid.

Student: Why would you send me away like this? How can you do that to me?

Farmer: Let me show you something. Take a look at this map. What do you see?

Student: I see our farm, the river nearby, and the mountains.

Farmer: No, you see an image of our farm, the river nearby, and the mountains—not the things themselves.

Now tell me, what can you learn from this map?

Student: I can learn where the farm and the river are, the height of the mountain, where the berry trees are, where we plant our carrots…

Farmer: No you can't. Give it a few millennia. The river will dry up, the mountains will move, and this farm may be a city.

You can't learn anything about the farm as it is, you can only see an image of it as it was at some point in time.

See, a man's memory is like this map.

It can capture a shadow of reality, and he can share that with you, but he can never give you the reality itself.

A man can give you his memories of the truth, but he can never give you the truth itself.

He can tell you where the farm was, but you'd still have to verify it for yourself.

If you want the truth as you say, there can be no intermediaries, no middlemen.

If there's a middleman, then he is the one you are following, not the truth.

Student: But what's wrong with following you?

Farmer: If you follow me, you'll live according to my memories.

You'll live according to my map, and you'll never learn to construct your own.

What if my map is wrong?

Then you'll be lost with me, and you won't be able to correct me because you never learned to navigate on your own.

And if you can't correct me, then we're no longer able to help each other.

But if you learn to see for yourself, if you learn to construct your own map of reality, then we can come together as friends and individuals.

We can compare our maps and help one another see reality as it really is.

And when we both see reality as it is, we can journey through it together, as equals.

Student: I guess you're right. I'll start packing my things.

In a letter to his sister, Nietzsche wrote, "If you wish to strive for peace of soul and pleasure, then believe; if you wish to be a devotee of truth, then inquire."

And in my opinion, Zarathustra tells his followers to leave him because they are still believers.

He wants them to become inquirers.

He doesn't want followers.

He doesn't want people to believe what he says.

He wants them to doubt him, inquire, verify what he says for themselves, and see if they arrive at the same vision of reality.

And if they arrive at the same vision of reality, then they can be travellers in this world together.

They can be equals.

But if they simply believe what he says, then they become followers.

Followers learn to follow someone else's map, and by doing so, they lose a direct connection to reality.

And if they lose a direct connection to reality, we all lose the value that comes from their own unique perspective.

We lose the value of independent verification and the possibility of someone correcting us.

But inquirers, on the other hand, make their own maps and maintain their connection to reality.

And because of this, they bring us actual value through their unique perspective of the world.

But at the end of the day, this is just my opinion and understanding of Nietzsche's words, not advice.

Feel free to use this information however you like, and if you have a different take on Nietzsche's words, I'd love to hear your perspective in the comments.