While in college, I went down a stint into philosophy while searching for meaning and reason in my life. At the time, I wasn’t happy with what I found; my experience with the topic was that more questions were raised than answers given. Instead of helping me find meaning, I came away with more uncertainty about life than I went in with. As a confused college student, I wasn’t very grateful.

Despite the sour taste, I’ve kept up an interest. Since then, I’ve come across a few thinkers whose writings do resonate with me. One of these is Camus. Myth of Sisyphus, Camus presents an opposition between the desire of man to find meaning in life, and the cold, unrelenting indifferent randomness of the universe.

In the final chapter of the essay, Camus draws inspiration from the greek myth of Sisyphus, which tells the story of the Sisyphus, king of Ephyra, who angers the gods and is punished to forever push a boulder up a hill. When he reaches the top, the boulder rolls back down and he must begin again. The beginning of the myth is discarded, and Camus focuses solely on Sisyphus rolling the boulder up the hill. All of humanity is cast into the role of Sisyphus: we are in perpetual ardor for no gain, struggling our way up a hill for no return. (On a bit of a tangent, I connect this metaphor to the allegorical image of the Vinegar Tasters )

While perpetual ardor for no gain could be viewed as futile or miserable, Camus presents a different view. He argues that those who recognize this condition can (in revolt) alter their perspective away from negatively valuing the absent “goal” or “achievement” and towards positively valuing instead the effort put forth. In the last two lines of the essay, Camus writes, “The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

I’ll write it again for the sake of clarity: Camus argues that to navigate the human condition, one must value the effort put forth towards a goal, not the goal itself. This sentiment has given me strength over the years since I’ve encountered it.

When I wake up in the morning and don’t want to leave bed to go on a run, or go to the office to work a project that’s been wearing on me, I remind myself that the most important part is that I make the effort to do so. It doesn’t matter how much it sucks, or how slow it goes, or it I even make any progress at all. At the end of the day, I can look myself in the mirror and feel fulfilled in making the effort.

I’ve also found that goals and achievements never seem to carry the weight that I attribute to them. A strong example that comes to mind is my experience on the PCT. Every day for months on end, I set out to walk towards the Canadian border. In my head, reaching the end had some significance, or a greater meaning. I think pursing the hike may have been in the same vein as my search for meaning with philosophy. What I found at the end was not a metaphysical experience, nor the hand of god, not even a single enlightened thought. It was just three pointed posts of wood marking the northern terminus and a big sign for the Canadian border.

I recognize now that I was foolish to expect anything else at the border, but in general I’ve found that it’s easy to attribute too much value to accomplishments. If one’s mind does the tally of work, it’s natural to expect too much. Shifting my focus to valuing the work itself and not the end has allowed me to feel more fulfilled in my pursuits, even when there’s nothing concrete at the end.