I see many people in the world struggle to make a living, we run this way and that, busy with work, family and various activities. We try to leave our mark on the world, to show we existed. At the end of the day we want to be able to say we have achieved something of lasting significance. But is life worth it? Do questions about the meaning of life have any meaning since we eventually die? Human life is like the Greek myth of Sisyphus. Sisyphus was condemned to an eternity of rolling a rock uphill only to have it roll back down to the bottom when it reaches the top. Like Sisyphus, we all are condemned to a ceaseless labour. It is impossible to calculate how much anxiety, pain, labour and fatigue are necessary in order to carry on the common operations of life. Life is inevitably absurd.
The first predicament of man is his existence. Existence is the problem of existence. None of us at birth was asked, Do you or do you not want to be conceived or born? We simply happened. I would also like to think none of us was given the privilege of choosing our parents, our birthplace or medical hereditary. All these too happened. For no intangible reason we are trapped in this world, condemned to live and eventually die. With this undesired burden to exist shouldn’t we be given the luxury of not making decisions, of been spectators in this given world? But no! Such freedom is too much luxury. We are constantly faced with existential decisions. The nature of our world forces us to make decisions, we cannot afford to sit on the bench. Living is a constant process of deciding what we are going to do.
After the struggle to attain the good life, death comes to remind us that we are food for worms. That we must inevitable go back to the ground, rot and disappear. The bitter truth is, whatever we have, whatever its quantity or quality, whatever the intensity or passion with which we pursue them, and/or hoard them. We lose. There would be a time in the future when our names would be spoken for the last time.
Despite these existential predicaments, we must be existential heroes. We can accept and live in a world devoid of meaning. We must learn the art of maintaining a balance. So we neither take pride when things go well nor despair when they go off-center. Like Sisyphus, so long we accept there is nothing more to life than this absurd struggle and push on, then we can find happiness. Man must be applauded for the refusal to give up and the desire to push on. What bravery! As long as we are alive, we hold death at bay.
With love
Poison Ivy
