Freeing The Sisyphus Within Us

There are different versions of the Greek myth of Sisyphus, and then there is Camus’ essay by the same name, in which he introduces his philosophy of the absurd.

The Greek myth that speaks to me the most tells of how Sisyphus enchained the spirit of Death, and that while Death was imprisoned, no human being died. But when the gods freed Death, Sisyphus was its first victim.

Protesting to the gods that he hadn’t been given any of the traditional burial rites when he died, Sisyphus was allowed to return to the living where he lived to an old age before dying again and enduring his eternal punishment.

Because he had cheated Death, his eternal punishment was to be condemned for eternity to repeatedly roll a boulder uphill only to have it roll down again once he got it to the top.

Camus uses the myth of Sisyphus to introduce his philosophy of the absurd, which as he saw it lies in “the juxtaposition between the fundamental human need to attribute meaning to life, and the “unreasonable silence” of the universe in response.” Camus ends his essay thus: “The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

Of course, that’s the absurd thing, not only because it’s impossible, but more importantly because it misses the basic meaning of the myth and substitutes a false claim about man for an implicit truth about life.

The human need to attribute meaning to life, and the “unreasonable silence” of the universe are not only distinct things, but also antithetical ones. The great paradox is that when we end the need to attribute meaning to life, and allow the mind to fall completely silent in all-inclusive and non-directed attentiveness, the brain comes into contact with the infinite silence permeating the universe. In complete silence of thought there is the experiencing of the immeasurable and inexpressible meaning of being.

So contrary to Camus’ absurdist interpretation, the myth of Sisyphus speaks deeply of the human condition, and may point to a way out of man’s recurrent and intensifying cycles of hell.

The metaphor of endlessly repeating, useless labor points to the futility of effort to transform oneself, and man. Indeed, it conveys the futility of goals as fixed ideas that we try to attain.

Inner goals recede in direct proportion of the desire to reach them. Except in achieving outer ends, do goals have a place at all with the inner life?

Intent is a goal stripped of ideas and ends. The ultimate goal of the human being is the intent of illumination. Though very few human beings have “attained enlightenment” except for Siddhartha, the fullest possible awakening of insight in this lifetime is a worthy goal as intent.

Diligently doing one’s spadework toward that goal/intent not only allows the individual to be in ever-greater harmony with nature and the cosmos, but contributes to radically changing man from a predatory and rapacious primate to Homo sapiens worthy of the name.

A new understanding of the myth of Sisyphus is also a good metaphor for awakening insight through inquiry together. Imagine a boulder with two to twenty people standing behind it. The boulder is on an incline, and its size is proportionate to the number of people behind it able to push it up the incline.

The group has to work together to move the boulder, with every person necessarily giving their full measure to reach the top of the incline.

Insight inquiry isn’t a physical exertion of course, or even an intellectual one, but a matter of questioning together. That’s what moves the boulder. The boulders are the impediments to insight in our own minds and hearts, and human consciousness as a whole.

In this view, the futility of labor flows from identification with a nation, religion or ethnic group; the coercions of power; the motivations of greed, competitiveness and ego.

When thinking together for its own sake, the work incorporates a quality of play, which as anyone who has watched a child at play can attest, is intrinsically done for its own sake.

The people of an inquiry group who are arduously but playfully pushing together behind the boulder, cannot see around it. Therefore they cannot see the top of the incline, or know where it is. They are pushing within simply to question together, which has its own reward.

And unlike Sisyphus, if and when the group unexpectedly reaches the top of the hill, the boulder doesn’t roll back down the hill. It rolls down the other side, effortlessly taking everyone with it on a journey of insight and freedom.

Martin LeFevre

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