The Boulder, The Banter, and the Absurd

Witty Banter

Today’s topic is quite random and inspired by the work of French philosopher Albert Camus on the Myth of Sisyphus. I really enjoy that story — a lot. But the ending always leaves us with one question, which I’ll come back to later.

So before we dive in, I want you to ask yourself some simple questions and see how quickly they turn into something much deeper:

Why do you work?

Most people — including me — would answer:
"To earn money."

Okay, then why do you need money?

"To survive, to live comfortably."

And why live comfortably?

"To be happy, I guess?"

And what does being happy really mean?

Silence.

Do you feel it? That slow descent into a rabbit hole — where every answer leads to another question? Where the deeper you go, the harder it becomes to define anything with certainty?

We wake up, we work, we eat, we rest, we dream a little, we break a little, we repeat — and sometimes we wonder:
What’s the point of it all?

Maybe there is no point — no ultimate goal or grand plan. But what if we’re just looking at the whole picture the wrong way?

So, let’s get to business :)

Let us Roll back a bit 

Before we go further, let’s quickly recap the story of Sisyphus and how it connects to this whole dilemma.

In Greek mythology, Sisyphus was a clever king who defied the gods not once, but twice. For his arrogance, he was condemned to an eternal punishment: to roll a heavy boulder up a hill, only to watch it tumble back down just before reaching the top. Forever. A meaningless task. A cruel joke. A symbol of futility. But we never think that does Sisyphus really hate his punishment? What if he actually doesn't hate it that much? What if, one day he rolls the boulder to the top of the hill and the boulder doesn't roll down? What if — and this might sound strange — Sisyphus actually wants to keep going, because it gives his life structure, rhythm, and meaning? What if, in a world stripped of purpose, this endless task became his purpose?

Albert Camus, a French philosopher and writer, published a short but powerful essay in 1942 called The Myth of Sisyphus. In it, he tackled a question that’s both deeply personal and philosophically heavy:

"Should I kill myself?"

He wasn’t trying to be edgy. He was seriously grappling with what he called the absurd — the uncomfortable tension between our human desire for meaning and the cold silence of the universe. We keep asking why we’re here, what our purpose is, what life means — and we get no clear answer back. Camus called this feeling the absurd condition. We expect life to make sense, to be fair, to reward effort, to have purpose. But often, it doesn’t. Tragedies strike. Good people suffer. Injustice persists. Life is unpredictable and, at times, feels completely indifferent to us. So what do we do with that? For Camus, there were three options:

1. Give up — which he rejects, because ending your life is a way of surrendering to the absurd rather than confronting it.

2. Turn to illusions — like religion or rigid ideologies that offer comforting explanations, but may not stand up to honest scrutiny.

3. Revolt — and this is the one he chooses.

Revolt, in Camus’ sense, means facing the absurd and choosing to live anyway. Not because life has meaning, but because you give it meaning by how you live. That’s where Sisyphus comes in.

Camus argues that Sisyphus becomes free the moment he accepts the absurdity of his situation. The moment he stops hoping the rock will stay at the top and fully understands that it never will — and yet, chooses to continue pushing anyway — he defeats the gods. In other words, Sisyphus wins not by escaping his punishment, but by owning it. By refusing to let it crush his spirit. By saying, "This is meaningless — and I will do it anyway." And that’s where Camus ends, with one of the most famous lines in philosophy:

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

Not because he enjoys his task. But because in the face of futility, he still chooses to act. And that according to Camus is true freedom.

We All Push Our Own Boulders

Think about your life for a moment. You work hard. You try to do the right thing. You chase goals, face setbacks, handle pressure, and navigate disappointment. In many ways, it’s like pushing a boulder uphill — especially when the same challenges keep resurfacing. In that sense, we’re all a bit like Sisyphus.
At first, that might sound bleak. But the truth is, life doesn’t owe us meaning or reward. Living fully — in spite of everything — is the reward. We stop waiting for some grand purpose to appear and start creating our own instead.
Yes, life gets messy. From personal heartbreak to injustice on a global scale, it’s easy to feel like nothing we do matters. Like the boulder will always roll back down. But that’s not when we give up — that’s when we dig in. Not because we’re promised a win. Not because things will get easier. But because we choose to act anyway.
That choice — to keep pushing in the face of it all — is its own kind of rebellion.

Final Thought

If Sisyphus can find contentment in the push — maybe we can too.

So, pick up your boulder.
Roll it up the hill.
And if it rolls back down… smile, shrug, and start again.

Because sometimes, just choosing to keep going is the most meaningful thing of all.

Maybe the question isn’t “What’s the meaning of life?”
Maybe the real question is:

“How do I choose to live, knowing life may not have meaning?”