The Myth of Sisyphus

(There is only one truly serious philosophical question: suicide. To judge whether life is worth experiencing is itself to answer the fundamental question of philosophy.)

(Once the world loses its illusions and light, man feels like a stranger. He then becomes an exile with nothing to live for, for he is deprived of the memory of his lost homeland and has lost hope in the world to come. This separation between man and his life, like the separation between the actor and the stage, truly constitutes a sense of absurdity.)

There is only one truly serious philosophical question: suicide. Judging whether life is worth experiencing is itself answering the fundamental philosophical question. Other questions--such as that there are three spheres of the world and nine or twelve spheres of the spirit--are secondary to the game. The first thing to do is to answer the question. As Nietzsche said, if a philosopher wants his philosophy to be taken seriously, he must lead by example. If this statement were correct, one would understand how important it is to answer the question, because this answer precedes the final action. The mind is very sensitive to these obvious facts. However, these facts should be analyzed more y in order to make them clear to the spirit.

If one were to ask, on what basis is the judgment that this problem is more urgent than others? I would answer, on the basis of the action it is intended to perform. I have never yet met anyone who went to his death for ontological reasons. Galileo once stood up for important scientific truths, and once he was poor, he readily abandoned his claims. In a sense, he did the right thing. It was not worth suffering fire for that truth. Who revolves around whom, the earth or the sun, is fundamentally irrelevant. It is, in short, a trivial issue. Yet I have seen: many people who have decided that their lives are not worth continuing and have ended them; and I have seen others who have absurdly died for the ideals and fantasies that supposedly gave meaning to their lives (what has been called the reason for living, and at the same time a good reason for dying). Thus, I believe that the question of the meaning of life is the most urgent of all questions to be answered. How can this question be answered? I think there are only two ways of thinking about the answer to all the basic questions for those who want to risk death and for those who desire life with tenfold enthusiasm: one is the way of Paris (1), the other is the way of Don Quixote (2), and the other is the way of Don Quixote (3). Quixote's method. The balance between factual reasoning and lyrical expression is the only way we can be sober and passionate at the same time. In a subject at once so humble and so rich in pathos, the scholastic and classical dialectic should take a back seat. One sets the subject on a more prosaic ideological stance, one that derives both from right direction and from a sense of empathy.

Suicide has always been analyzed as a social phenomenon. On the contrary, I believe that the problem is first and foremost the relationship between the individual's thoughts and suicide. The act of suicide is conceived silently in the mind, as if it were a great work of art. But the man himself is not aware of it. One night he shoots or throws himself into the water. People have talked to me about a homeless man who committed suicide, saying that he had lost his daughter five years before and that he had changed completely since then, and they said that his experience had already "set the stage" for the act of suicide, and they have not yet been able to find a more accurate word than "set the stage". They haven't found a more accurate word than "set the stage". To begin to think is to begin to set the stage. Society has nothing to do with suicide in the beginning. The hidden pain is deep within the human being, and it is therefore within the human being that suicide should be explored. This game of death is a transition from being awake in the face of existence to escaping from the light. We should follow this thread to understand suicide.

Suicide occurs for a number of reasons, and in general the clearest and most obvious reason is not the one that directly causes it. People rarely (but cannot be ruled out) commit suicide as a result of reflection. The triggers of the crisis are almost always beyond control. The newspapers often speak of "inner sorrow" or "incurable illness", and these explanations are correct. But it also seems important to realize that if, on the same day, a friend speaks to the disillusioned person in a tone of indifference and indifference, that friend is culpable. For his words are sufficient to intensify the misery of the disappointed man and to intensify his pessimism and misanthropy2.

However, if it is difficult to ascertain precisely when the mind decides to die and what subtle steps it takes, it is easier to derive from the action of death the results which the mind presupposes. In a sense -

as in melodrama - to commit suicide is to recognize, to admit to being overtaken by life or to admit that one does not understand life. I don't have to stretch the analogy too far, but I'll go back and illustrate it in some usual terms. Suicide is nothing more than an admission that life is not "worth living". It is true that life is never easy, but for various reasons people continue to behave in ways dictated by existence, the most important of which is habit. A person who voluntarily dies recognizes, even if subconsciously, that habits are not immutable, that there is no profound reason for living, that everyday actions are meaningless, that suffering is useless, and that there is no use in suffering. of it.

What, then, is this indescribable feeling that is to remove the spirit of numbness necessary for living? A world that can be explained even by the most unimaginative reasons is a world that people feel familiar with. However, once the world loses its illusions and light, man feels like a stranger. He becomes an exile with nothing to live for, for he is deprived of the memory of his lost homeland and has lost hope in the world to come. This separation between man and his life, like the separation between the actor and the stage, truly constitutes a sense of absurdity. Without much explanation, one understands that this sense of absurdity is directly linked to the desire for nothingness in all those who are alive and have thought of suicide.

The purpose of this book is to discuss the relation between absurdity and suicide, and to discuss within what definite limits suicide becomes a consequence of absurdity. We can say in principle that, in the opinion of a sincere man, what he believes in with conviction is capable of constraining his actions. Thus, the conviction of the absurdity of existence is able to govern his behavior. One wonders-clearly, not sadly-whether the result of this reasoning would not compel one to leave the incomprehensible as quickly as possible. Obviously, I am speaking here of those who are prepared to concur with themselves 01 Absurdity and Suicide (2)

To pose this question in clear terms, the problem would seem to be both simple and yet intractable. It would be a mistake to think that simple questions have even simpler answers, or that clarity begets clarity. If one a priori inverts the terms of the question, then, like the question of whether one commits suicide or not, it seems that there are only two philosophical outcomes, namely, the two outcomes of "Oui" and "Non". This is wonderful! But one should also speak of those who do not reach a final conclusion but always ask questions. I am not joking here: such people are the majority. I have also seen people who answer "No" with their mouths, but whose actions prove that they think "Yes". According to Nietzsche's criterion, these people actually think "yes" in one way or another. Yet those who commit suicide may often be convinced of the meaning of life. Such contradictions are commonplace. One might even say that they have never been more profound than in the case of logic, which has instead shown itself to be so intensely seductive. Within this context, we can compare philosophical theories with the behavior of those who preach them. It should be noted, however, that among the thinkers who denied the meaning of life, none except the literary figure Kirillov, the naturally fanciful Belgranos,3 and the prescient hypothetical üller Lokiye,4 have ever been so profound. With the exception of the literary figure Kirillov, the naturally fanciful Belgrinos,3 and the prescient hypothetical üller Lokiye,4 none of them developed the logical reasoning of the denial of the meaning of life to the denial of this life itself. To ridicule such reasoning, Schopenhauer is often cited as an example. Schopenhauer sings the praises of suicide at an ornate table. In fact, there is nothing ridiculous about it. This method of not looking at tragedy is not all that serious, but with it one can ultimately judge the person who uses it.

In the face of these contradictions and difficulties, should it be assumed that there is no connection between the opinions one may have about life and the acts one performs in order to leave it? Let us not exaggerate on this point. There is something in one's relation to one's own life that overwhelms all the sufferings of the world. The judgment of the body is equal to the judgment of the spirit, and the body cowers in the face of destruction. We develop the habit of living before we develop the habit of thinking. In this race which forces us to approach death step by step every day, the body always remains irrevocably in advance of thinking. In the end, this fundamental contradiction resides in what we call "dodging," because, according to Pascal, it is both lighter and stronger than recreation. The evasion of death is the third thesis of the book, and that is hope: the hope of another life with which one must be "worthy," or the deception of those who live not for the sake of life itself, but for the sake of some great idea that transcends life, that sublimates it, that gives it some meaning, and that departs from it. life.

All this complicates things. People have thus far played with words and pretended to believe that denying the meaning of life inevitably leads to the claim that it is not worth going on with, but these attempts are not useless. In fact, there is no mandatory scale between these two judgments. It is only the confusing words, separations, and unanswered questions that should be avoided to lead us astray. One should avoid these and delve into the real issues. That a man commits suicide because life is not worth experiencing is undoubtedly a fact - yet because it is obvious, it is an impoverished fact. But is this damnation of existence, this disappointment in which one is y involved, the result of the meaninglessness of life? Does the very absurdity of life compel people to escape from it either through hope or through suicide? This is the question that must be focused on, explored and clarified. Absurdity governs death, and it should be recognized that this question is more important than any other. Avoid all ideological methods and unrelated spiritual games. An "objective" spirit will always be able to introduce differences, contradictions, psychology into all questions, which have no place in our research, in the question of feelings. All that is needed here is a non-legitimate thought, i.e., logic. This is not an easy task. It is always easy to be logical, but it is impossible to be logical from beginning to end. The person who ends his life with his own hands is the one who is allowed to act on his emotions until he dies. Thinking about suicide provides me with the opportunity to ask the only question that interests me: is there a logic to death? The answer to this question can only be arrived at by following a reasoning that I would like to point out its roots, which must not be accompanied by confused emotional impulses, but only by sober analysis. This is what I call absurd reasoning. Many have begun this kind of reasoning, but I do not yet know whether they have persisted.

To show that it is impossible to constitute a unified world, Jaspers exclaims, "Such a limitation leads me to myself, that I can no longer hide behind an objective point of view in myself, but can only express it, so that neither my own existence nor that of others remains as an object for me. " At this point, following many writers, he refers to this barren and water-starved land in which thought is at the end of its rope. Following many writers, yes, that may be so. But how many are anxious to break free from it! Many, though mingled among the humblest, have reached the last point in which the mind is wavering. These are then giving up the most precious thing they possess - their lives. Others, who are the pride of spirit, have also given up, but they are committing the suicide of thought in the purest revolt. Those who are truly powerful, on the contrary, want to persevere, and they see this as possible, that is to say, by carefully observing the strange plants in the distance. Persistence in sobriety is the priority of witnessing this inhuman game in which absurdity, hope and death are jockeying for position. The spirit is able to analyze them before it articulates and re-experiences the various facets of this primitive and subtle struggle.

1) Palisse: The prince of the city of Ilion, the capital of Troy in Homer's epic. He cheated Helen, the beautiful wife of the Greek Spartan king Menelaos, causing years of war. --paraphrase

② It should not be forgotten here that there is a relativity in such a discourse. Indeed, suicide can also be associated with more noble views. For example, the so-called political suicide of dissidents. --Original Note

3 I have heard that a competitor of Bergoglianos, a writer who had completed his debut novel after the war, committed suicide in order to bring attention to his work. He did attract attention, but his work is still considered a failure. --Original Note

4 Jules Leguille. Jules Leguier (1814-1862): a French philosopher. --Translation note

The people who are in tune.

02 The Wall of Absurdity (1)

(All great actions and all great ideas have a trivial beginning.)

Great works, deep feelings, always contain much more than their consciousness has to say. The constant movements and impulses which take place in the mind are likewise in the habits of behavior and thought, and continue in consequences which the mind itself does not perceive. The great emotions carry with them various heavens and earths - bright and brilliant or poor and painful - with which they travel. These great emotions illuminate a unique world with their own passions, and in this world they meet again the atmosphere that suits them. There is the world of envy, lust and self-interest, and the world of generosity and magnanimity. A world that implies a metaphysics or a position of mind. This will be all the more true of the reality contained in those various feelings, for the passions which are their main constituents are just as chaotic, just as "fickle", just as distant and " present", as the emotions which bring us the good world, or which give rise to the absurd world. present".

Absurd feelings can shock anyone in a positive way, at any junction. Absurd feelings are naked and poignant; they emit light but see no traces of it, so they are elusive. And that difficulty is worth thinking about. Perhaps there really is that one person who is always a stranger to us, and who always carries with him something irreducible that we cannot grasp. But, in reality, I know some people well enough to be able to distinguish them by their behavior, by the totality of their activities, and by the results of their experiences in life. In the same way, I am practically able to define all these irrational feelings, to evaluate them in actuality, whereas analysis does not have the capacity to unify their results in the sphere of knowledge, or to grasp and point out all the facets in which they manifest themselves in order to redraw their world. On the face of it, it would seem that I would not know an actor better by seeing him perform a hundred times. But if I summarize the roles he has played, if I say that after I have counted the hundred roles he has played, I know him a little better. This shallow paradox is also a parable that contains deep meaning. It is to show that a man is defined not only by his performances, but also by his spontaneous impulses. The same is true of a more subdued tone of voice, of actions which are incomprehensible to the mind and yet partly altered in their feelings by their own inspired actions, and by the mental positions which they set themselves. The reader may thus feel that I am establishing a method. And the reader will also feel that this method is a method of analysis, not a method of knowing. For these methods all contain metaphysics, and they unconsciously depart from those conclusions which they sometimes claim not to have recognized. Thus, the end of a book is already residing in its opening section.

The difficulty is inevitable. The method I have established here, frankly, makes any true knowledge of feelings impossible. Only the manifestations (apparences) can be revealed, only the corresponding atmosphere can be felt.

This absurd inscrutability of feeling we may get in various however fraternal, intellectual, living or short-lived worlds of art. The very beginning is the atmosphere of absurdity. The world of the absurd is then the end, and it becomes the ideological position that illuminates the inherent face of the world in order to make the unique, unalterable face of the end - the face that the end recognizes from this world - shine brightly.

All great actions and all great ideas possess an insignificant beginning. Great works usually arise at a turning intersection or in the din of a diner. So it is with absurdity. In comparison with the other one, the world of the absurd is moreover the world of sublime ideas from this humble origin. In some situations, answering a question about the nature of one's thought with a "rien" may be a trap for a person. The presence of the Beloved makes this clear. But if the answer is candid, if it graphically represents this particular state of the mind - in which emptiness (vide) becomes indisputable, in which the daily continuum of acts is interrupted, and the mind seeks in vain to reconnect the ties that bind them - then it is regarded as a question of the nature of the mind, as a question of the nature of the mind, as a question of the nature of the being. -then it is seen as the initial signal of absurdity.

Sometimes the contexts collapse. Wake up, take the tram, work four hours in an office or factory, lunch, take the tram again, work four hours, eat, sleep. Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, always a rhythm, and it's easy to follow that path for the vast majority of the time. Once the question of "why"

is posed one day, it all starts with this jadedness that smacks of surprise.

The "beginning" is crucial. Boredom follows the activity of a mechanically numbing life, but it also inspires the movement of consciousness. It awakens consciousness and stimulates subsequent activity. The subsequent activity is the unconscious rechaining, or the final awakening. After the awakening, in the course of time, the result is: suicide or a return to the old state. Boredom has something sickening in itself. Here I should conclude that boredom is a good thing. For everything begins with consciousness, and nothing is worthwhile unless it passes through consciousness. These points contain nothing original. But they are obvious: at one time or another, this would have been enough to summarize the origin of the absurdity of awareness. Everything is the origin of the original "trouble".

In the same way, time is with us for the days and nights of a dull, dull life. But a time comes when we are immersed in it and face it. We live towards the future: "tomorrow", "later", "you'll get there", "as you grow older you'll understand". ". These pending visions deserve attention because they are ultimately associated with death. Yet on a given day, a man confirms or states that he is 30 years old. This he is showing his youth. But at the same time, he is grounding his youthfulness relative to time; he is taking his place in time. He recognizes that he is, at one point, attached to a curve that he openly indicates he wants to pass through. He belongs to time, and to the horror which suddenly shocks him, and from which he recognizes his fiercest enemy. To-morrow, when nothing is acceptable to him, he puts his hope in to-morrow. This carnal revolt is the absurdity1.

This is the lower grade of feeling, and its grotesqueness consists in the discovery that the world is "hermetically sealed", in the discovery of the point at which a stone is grotesque, the point at which we consider it irreducible, and, naturally, the point at which a landscape, because of its hermetically sealed nature, is able to deny us. In the depths of any beauty that contains some inhuman element, as well as these hills, this serene sky, the silhouettes of these trees, all this suddenly loses in the same minute the significance of the fantasy that we dreamed of, and from then on becomes more distant than the lost paradise. After a thousand years of change, the world has become more and more antagonistic to us. In a moment we suddenly can no longer understand the world, because, for many centuries, our understanding of the world has been limited to our preconceived appearances and outlines, and from then on we have lost the power of this approach. The world flees from us because it becomes itself again. These backgrounds, masked by habit, change back into what they are. They turn away from us. It is as if a man, at a certain time, suddenly feels that the face of a woman, usually familiar, becomes completely foreign, when he had loved her for months or years, and it may be that we still long for those things which put us suddenly in solitude, only the time has not yet come. The only certain fact is this: this hermetic gaplessness and strangeness of the world, which is absurd. The world also secretes inhuman elements. In certain waking moments their mechanical movements, their meaningless gestures make everything around them absurd. There is a man on the phone inside a glass partition; we do not hear his voice, but we see his meaningless movements, and we cannot help but wonder why he lives. This discomfort in the face of man's own inhumanity, this degradation in the face of the image of what we are, this feeling that a certain writer of our time2 has called "disgust", is also absurd. And the stranger we see in the mirror in a few seconds, the familiar and tiresome brother we see in the photograph we take of ourselves, is equally absurd.

Finally, I turn to the question of death and the feelings we derive from it. Much has been said about this, and it is reasonable to reserve sorrow for it. However, one is never sufficiently surprised by what all people go through as if no one knows about it. This is because, in actuality, there is no experience of death. In a primitive sense, only what is experienced can be experienced and made conscious. It is perfectly true to talk about other people's experience of death. But it is a substitute, an ideological point of view, and we can never be too convinced of it. Such painful experiences are not convincing. Fear actually comes from the certainty of the certainty of the aspect of the event. If time makes us fearful, it is because it demonstrates it in public, and results follow. Here, at least for a time, the fine words about the soul receive through the nerves a test which their opposites put upon them. The soul disappears and goes away from this inert, tapping body on which it no longer works. This primitive and decisive aspect of the encounter becomes the connotation of absurd feelings. From the point of view of the death of destiny, uselessness reveals itself. No kind of morality, no kind of effort can justify itself a priori in the face of the bloody mathematics of the environmental conditions that arrange me.