It is an indelible myth and metaphor. Futilely pushing the rock up the hill. It reminds us of our lives that can seem burdensome endeavors without meaning or purpose. We can refer to this metaphor, at least I have, and have forgotten its origins.

Sisyphus is a figure from Greek mythology who was punished by Zeus for his heinous and deceitful actions and was condemned to an eternity of pushing a heavy boulder uphill, only to watch it roll back down before he could reach the top. He is then doomed to repeat this task indefinitely, with no hope of escape from this repetitive and seemingly pointless labor. After re-reading the myth, Sisyphus was a really bad guy!

The relevance and popularity of this myth lies in its depiction of what we can view as the human condition. Philosopher Albert Camus used the story of Sisyphus as a metaphor for the struggle to find meaning, purpose, and significance. Sisyphus’s eternal punishment, the repetitive and futile task of pushing the rock, symbolizes the absurdity of human existence—the feeling that anything we do can seem ultimately meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

Now, the rock in the myth can symbolize various things. It represents the burden of existence, the weight of life’s challenges and the monotony of life’s struggles that we must constantly bear.

Camus argued that there is the potential for individuals to create their own meaning and find happiness in embracing the absurdity of life. He famously suggested that despite the futility of Sisyphus’s task, he can find fulfillment and purpose in the act of pushing the rock, in the struggle itself, and in the acceptance of the absurdity of his situation.

Happiness in an eternal struggle?! 

Philo said it best, Everyone you meet is fighting a great battle. We all are. And regrettably it never ends.

But unless you are in prison for life, then I am not sure who has forced you into this labor camp of a Dostoyevskyian life. (By the way, my work with people incarcerated for life taught me that joy, solace, and redemption are found even there)

What is our suffering? What is our burden? Why is it unfair? Why us? If only we were free from this rock. If only our lives were rolling stones down a hill. Just easy fun stuff without the blood sweat and tears.

You don’t want that! No one who is awake does.

Your kids are part of the burden?
Your partner is too?
Your job?
Your bills?

You always wanted it all. You always wanted a challenge. You always said it. You never wanted to settle, so you stretched your time, capacity and capabilities to the limit. You borrowed to buy that house, for that car, and so much meaningless stuff. You deferred your happiness or lived hedonistically.

We buy things we don’t need, with money we don’t have, to impress people we don’t like.  Robert Quillen

The rock we’re pushing up the hill is filled with a lot of shit. Chicken, horse, bull and even dinosaur feces. We like to brag in our own guilt-ridden way about our burdens. Some weird reality show contest. Like the way we have made busyness into a competitive sport. We can be the most privileged people in the world and talk relentlessly about mundane problems that are giving us anxiety and stress. Tone deaf and so disconnected from the world. We all feel that we must have a story of our troubles that we carry, and shoulder, to prove that we’re human in some psycho way. The rock has many compartments, an unlimited capacity to be filled with stuff, guilt, and trivia so that we can tell other people about our tales of woe.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, we all have real problems. And we have real anxieties and real stress. And yes, we have inherited traumatic stuff from the family dynamics of our ancestry. I’m not saying otherwise. I’m talking about the other stuff that we add to this giant rock that we’re pushing up a hill in a Sisyphean way. A test of our self-awareness of our own capacity to see what’s real. That everything we’re thinking about are things that we have imposed on ourselves. The interpretation of what is real and what is happening to us is all inside of our minds. All of it is the product of our thoughts. And while we want to take out our blame throwers, and aim them at everyone and everything, the mirror is the only place we will be able to see who has added the most weight, the most dimensions, the most challenges to our rock.

Some people may quickly deny this, but it is true.

This bulbous rock is all of our making.

Not the actual people, relationships, and challenges—what we think about them.

The letting go of the rock is not giving up or disengaging from life. Sisyphus had no choice nor did Frankl or Dostoevsky, but we do. And choice and agency matter. There is one thing to accept the rock and quite another to embrace the suffering that is self-inflicted and self-induced.

Letting go of our own interpretive fabrications makes sense. Not just to lighten our load and simplify our life but to deliver us into the present.

The absurd is born of this confrontation between the human need and the unreasonable silence of the world. Camus

We must break the silence.

Camus’ suggests that the act of letting go of the rock represents a form of rebellion against the absurdity of existence. By freeing oneself from the relentless pursuit of an unattainable meaning, one can be liberated. This freedom allows for the exploration of personal passions, values, and individual paths to happiness.

Choosing to let go of the Sisyphean rock is not about abandoning all effort or responsibility but rather about acknowledging that life’s struggles and endeavors are meaningful in their own right, even if they lack ultimate cosmic significance. It is an existential act of defiance against the absurdity of life and a conscious decision to find joy and fulfillment in the present moment and the journey itself.
As Mitchell asserts in his passage, one can fall in love with the rock. That an identity can be forged with the burden one possesses. Falling in love with the rock can lead to a sense of resignation, where one accepts their suffering as an integral part of their destiny, hindering their escape from the rock.

The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.  Camus

Happiness can be found in the awareness and acceptance of the necessary and inevitable repetitiveness of life.

Step aside and let that overweight rock hurtle to its fate so you can pursue yours.