Albert Camus’ absurd is often misunderstood as pessimism, while in reality it is an act of intellectual honesty against metaphysical comfort. The tragedy of Sisyphus is not the stone itself, but the impossibility of escaping repetition while remaining conscious of it. Most individuals survive existence by psychologically dissolving themselves into routine, ideology, ambition, or distraction; Sisyphus cannot. He is condemned to lucidity. This is why Camus’ framework remains terrifyingly modern: the absurd emerges not from suffering alone, but from the collision between the human hunger for meaning and the indifferent continuity of reality. Yet there is also something profoundly defiant in this awareness. To continue despite recognizing the silence of the universe may be the final form of existential rebellion – not hope, not transcendence, but the refusal to surrender one’s consciousness to illusion merely for the sake of psychological comfort.

Or…

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –

And sore must be the storm –

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –

And on the strangest Sea –

Yet – never – in Extremity,

It asked a crumb – of me.

Emily Dicknson

These are two very well respected authors, yet their messages resonate quite differently. Is it a farce to live wishing and hoping for a dream that has just as much possibility of dieing as living. Wish and hope and pray and plan and dream, and still not be able to influence the result.

Or…

Accept that life is indifferent to our mental machinations. Ultimately that is the message conveyed in the legend of Sisyphus. his punishment was not to push a rock up a hill eternally. His punishment by Zeus and the other gods was they removed his hope. Push a rock. All day, Every day. No hope of ever leading a different life. No ambition. No aspiration. No goals. No purpose. Yet we can see Sisyphus smile. Not always or maybe not even frequently. But he did. As the ultimate act of rebellion. Similar to Andy Dufresne in Shawshank Redemption. Regardless the pain and turmoil inflicted upon him, the human spirit cannot be conquered. In that line of thought, hope is a lie. A comfortable blanket we wrap ourselves in to keep the demons at bay. When we’re wrapped in our cozy delusion of denial and we see the demons getting closer. we must break the bubble of peace and bask in the freedom that being the captain brings.

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,   

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas