During the fall of France in World War 2, Albert Camus wrote any essay called ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’. In my mythology, Sisyphus struggles to push a rock uphill, only to have it roll down, again and again. An infinite loop of struggle and misery. A curse of existence.
From Camus’ perspective, this struggle is exactly where the meaning of life is found. It’s not getting the rock to the top that matters, because that will never happen. There are always human setbacks, and there are always moments when we have to start from Square One again.
Camus says: The struggle itself ... is enough to fill a person's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.
We often talk about the journey being the destination. In times like these, when the world is seemingly hanging on by a thread (just as it was in WW2), maybe it’s good to remind ourselves that yes the struggle is real. But that in itself can provide its own profound message and meaning.
The answer then is simple: keep pushing. This has many times in the past been enough to change history.
