An Endless Shoulder for the Stars

Witty Banter

Well, this is a weird way to start a blogpost, right? Talking about a Titan doomed to hold up the heavens for eternity. But the story of Atlas has always fascinated me, not just as mythology but as a mirror of something deeply human. This isn’t going to answer big questions, but it might raise a few that I’ve wrestled with for a while (yes, shower thoughts again). As always, these are just my opinions, you might see it differently, and that’s perfectly fine. Who knows, maybe you’ll help me see something new.

The Myth of Atlas

In Greek mythology, Atlas was one of the Titans, children of the primordial deities who ruled before the Olympian gods. When the Titans rose up against Zeus in a war known as the Titanomachy, Atlas fought on the losing side. As punishment, Zeus condemned him not to death, not to oblivion, but to something worse, an eternal sentence. Atlas was forced to bear the weight of the heavens on his shoulders, holding the sky and earth apart for all time. His punishment wasn’t destruction, but endurance. Not a swift end, but an endless burden. And that’s what makes his story so haunting. Atlas isn’t the Titan who fell. He isn’t the Titan who vanished. He is the Titan who endures, forever bent, forever holding, forever silent.

Why doesn't Atlas Let Go?

We all know the picture: Atlas, bent under the crushing weight of the sky. A punishment. A burden. A symbol. But here’s the thing, why doesn’t he just let it fall? Of course, the myth tells us he has no choice. Plus you guys would be really saying it out loud of how stupid of me to think of such a silly thought. But let’s imagine for a second that he did. What if, in one motion, he could shrug his shoulders, straighten his back, and watch the heavens collapse into the sea? Why keep holding it? Why not let go?

Maybe Atlas doesn’t let go because he’s afraid. Not afraid of freedom, but of what comes after. What happens if the world really does collapse without him? Isn’t that the same dilemma we face when we keep carrying our own weights, jobs that exhaust us, relationships that hollow us, responsibilities that eat away at us? We don’t drop them, not because we love them, but because we’re terrified of the silence, the chaos, the unknown that might come when we do.

Is Duty a Curse or a Purpose

Atlas makes me wonder: are responsibilities what destroy us, or what define us? If he let go, would he be free or would he simply vanish into irrelevance? Maybe the weight he carries is also the weight that gives him shape. Without it, he isn’t Atlas. He’s just another forgotten Titan. And isn’t that true for us too? The struggles we curse are often the very things that make us who we are. We complain about carrying too much, but we cling to those weights anyway because deep down, they give us identity, even meaning. Maybe freedom isn’t the absence of burdens but the acceptance of them. I could rant the entire day of how much work I have to bare but when I sit down to think of why I take up so much work, I realise that maybe I do so because I my identity is shaped by them. I can rant but acceptance is the only way through.

Atlas and Sky- a Tragic Love Story

But here’s another way I like to picture it. Not as a punishment, not as some cruel joke of Zeus, but as a tragic love story. Atlas and the Sky. Two beings forever bound, forever apart. The sky leans heavy against his shoulders, pressing, suffocating, yet intimate. It is both his prison and his closest companion. He can’t live with it, and he can’t live without it.

Perhaps Atlas once hated the weight. Perhaps, in the first moments of his punishment, he screamed, cursed the heavens, and longed for release. But over centuries, hatred softened into something else. The burden became familiar, like the silence of a long marriage. The groaning of the heavens against his back became a voice he learned to recognize. The pressure, unbearable at first, became strangely comforting. What if the sky is not his punishment, but his beloved? Think about it. He alone touches it, he alone feels its vastness, he alone knows its shifting moods. The stars are not distant to him, they rest against his skin. The winds that circle the earth brush his ears with secrets. In his exile, Atlas has become the one closest to the universe itself.

Maybe he doesn’t let go because, in some strange way, he loves what he carries. Like us, who hold on to pain because it has become too familiar, too much a part of our story to abandon. The weight hurts, but the absence would hurt even more. I picture him sometimes not as straining under punishment, but as holding an embrace that can never be complete. Atlas clutching the sky, the sky pressing back, both condemned to a closeness without release. A love story twisted by fate, where touch is possible, but freedom is not. And in that metaphor, don’t we find ourselves? We hold on to people, to memories, to responsibilities, to grief. They weigh us down, yes, but they are also the very things that make us feel connected. To let them go would be to step into emptiness.

Atlas- The Silent Question

To me, the real tragedy of Atlas is not his punishment, but his silence. He never tells us why he endures. He just keeps holding. And maybe that’s the point, maybe myths aren’t there to hand us answers but to leave us with uncomfortable questions. So, the next time you feel like the world is on your shoulders, ask yourself: what are you really carrying? Is it a curse, or is it the very thing that makes you who you are? And, perhaps the hardest question of all, what would happen if you finally let go?

That’s it from my side today. If you’ve got thoughts, questions, or your own take on Atlas, I’d love to hear it. Until then, keep questioning, keep carrying but remember, sometimes you’re allowed to set things down.