We're All Sisyphus Now

We’re all Sisyphus now. We’re all engaged in that daily struggle to roll a boulder up hill, only to watch it roll back down and start again. How many times can I avoid visiting my parents because they’re immuno-compromised? How many times will my wife cut our kids’ hair using a Youtube video? This is not the life we predicted; this is not the life we were prepared for; this is not a life that even makes sense. This is, in a word, an absurd life. 

I read an article the other day called Philosophy for a Time of Crisis. One of the philosophers mentioned is Camus (an absurdist), who wrote an essay called The Myth of Sisyphus. As someone who’s taught Camus in the past (and, honestly, never really enjoyed it), I was surprised to find some insight here. 

I’ve spent a lot of time trying to make sense of the current situation. Or even just trying to find silver linings, like how many things we’re grateful for that we took for granted before. While it’s true that COVID will open us to new habits and experiences (like this blog!), it’s also true that it’s a pain in the rear. Most of the time. 

I admire that thing in humans that wants to make sense of situations. That thing that wants to understand, and predict, and find patterns. It makes our life easier. It makes us more efficient. But what happens when that thing hits a virus and a human response that is anything but predictable? Well, for now at least, the virus turns our life absurd.

And the acceptance of this as the natural course rather than something I can bend to my will is in an odd sense re-assuring. The fact that my daughter's 5th birthday party wasn't a huge shin-dig is not actually a burden I need to take on. It's like the universe and I are breaking up, and the universe is saying, "It's not you, it's me." Is it weird to think that there’s some solace in that? That life is just absurd, and there’s not much I can do to change it? 

How much of my anxiety and irritability comes from trying to control an uncontrollable situation? Camus makes the argument that Sisyphus is only unhappy if he dwells on the hopelessness of his situation. If he thinks of his tedious and endless future. But if he can focus on his task, and give it all his effort, he is quite literally doing everything he can do. And there’s a sort of courage and heroism in that work. In knowing that you’re doing all you can do, no matter what the outcome. 

What if our mental and emotional well-being rested less on the outcome of our work, which we most definitely can NOT control right now, and more on the simple act of doing it as best we can. By “work,” I don’t just mean your job. I mean everything we need to do to get through a day. What if we brought our full selves to that work, because that’s all we can do? 

We could spend a lot of time and energy reminiscing about the way things were, or the way we want them to be. But maybe now is the perfect time to just give ourselves to this moment. I know, it’s counter-intuitive. I can practically hear you saying, “Why give myself to a moment like this?! I’ll take pure joy and bliss, please.” 

But this is the only moment we’ve got. We can’t escape it. We can’t wish it away. We might, however, be able to transcend it, by coming to peace with it. It’s like that finger trap we had as kids. You put a finger in each side of a tube. If you pull really hard, it just tightens its grip. But if you relax and push deeper into it, you’re released. 

Now is the time to bring ourselves to our task. To do it (whatever “it” is), because it’s all there is to do. And if we do it well, then we’ve done everything there is. And if we don’t, we try again tomorrow. That seems oddly fulfilling to me. 

PRACTICE

Sitting in a quiet place, feet flat on the floor. Back straight but not rigid. Hands resting comfortably in your lap. If you’re comfortable doing so, closing your eyes.

Allowing yourself to settle into the room you’re in. 

Noticing the sounds around you.

The sounds of your own breathing.

Feeling your breath moving into your body, and then leaving your body. 

And now moving your attention to ways that you’ve been wishing you could alter your current reality. 

Maybe you wish you could have had a big birthday party. Or maybe you want your class to just be normal again. Allowing your mind to move through whatever emerges here. 

Settling on one situation now, and letting yourself feel the strain of your hopes and wishes. 

And recognizing that those hopes and wishes cannot, at least right now, exist. They probably will someday, but not right now. Noticing any pain that this brings up in you, and allowing that pain to exist in you. 

While granting yourself permission to feel that pain, also recognizing that we are all limited right now, and all different versions of what we were before. 

But maybe we can accomplish the simple task of rising to meet the day. Every day, no matter what it brings.

And then repeating this phrase to yourself: “If I rise to meet this day, I’m doing enough.” 

And noticing how that feels. Maybe it rings hollow, in which case this might not be the right meditation for you right now. That’s fine. There are plenty more meditations. 

Or maybe it resonates, in which case you might come back to this meditation when you want to. 

“If I rise to meet this day, I’m doing enough.”

And now re-connecting with your breath as it moves through your body. And letting yourself move back into the room around you. Noticing the sounds.

And when you’re ready, opening your eyes, and rising to meet this day.