Where the Stone Meets Hope
The Myth of Sisyphus. Imagine pushing a rock uphill. Every day. Always the same rock. Always the same mountain. And just when it seems you’re about to reach the top… the rock rolls back down to the base. This is the punishment of Sisyphus, a figure from Greek mythology.
Sisyphus was the king of Ephyra (the ancient name for Corinth) and became famous for his cunning, having managed to deceive several gods – including Hades, lord of the underworld – and even postpone his own death for a time. According to the myth, Sisyphus tricked Thanatos, the personification of death, and later convinced Persephone to allow him to return to the world of the living. As punishment, he was condemned to an absurd and endless task: to push a massive boulder up a mountain, only to watch it roll back down again and again. An unceasing effort, without aim or visible purpose.
This story intrigues us because of its profound symbolism. The French philosopher Albert Camus reinterpreted the myth in his 1942 essay The Myth of Sisyphus, proposing it as a metaphor for the human condition. For Camus, life is essentially absurd – devoid of any objective or transcendent meaning. And yet, we persist in living, in seeking meaning, even while knowing everything is fleeting.
Camus saw in Sisyphus the image of modern man: fully aware of the absurd, yet refusing to surrender to despair. Sisyphus pushes the rock not out of submission, but by choice. Because the awareness of absurdity can, in itself, be liberating. Thus, the essential lies in how we confront the absurd.
“One must imagine Sisyphus happy,” Camus wrote – not out of ignorance, but because by accepting his fate and facing it with dignity, Sisyphus transforms punishment into resistance. He knows the rock will fall. And even so, he pushes it. Not out of obligation, but from freedom. To reject despair is an act of rebellion. A choice. Camus therefore proposes an ethic of lucidity and resistance without metaphysical illusions.
This myth may seem far removed from our daily lives. But is it really? Think about your routine: the alarm rings, the day begins, exhaustion builds… and the next day, it all begins again. The contemporary experience of work sometimes mirrors Sisyphus’ punishment: living through a tiring, repetitive, alienating routine. We do what is expected of us. We produce. We persist. And sometimes, we feel empty. It is at this point that the myth ceases to be a legend and becomes a mirror. But there is hope in that reflection!
Just like in the myth, the distance between despair and hope lies in our attitude. Even aware of the futility of the task, Sisyphus is free – he recognises his absurd condition and faces it with lucidity and, perhaps, with pride. He knows the rock will fall, smiles as he sees it roll down the mountain, and chooses to push it uphill once more. That choice is freedom. Camus ends his essay with the powerful statement: “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” Happy? How!? you might ask. Because there is dignity in persistence. Because pushing the rock with awareness is preferable to the illusion of eternal success. Because finding meaning in effort, even without guaranteed results, may well be a form of transcendence.
For Camus, Sisyphus is happy not in the conventional sense, but because, by accepting the absurd without resorting to illusions, the human being attains a kind of peace – or dignity – in the simple act of continuing. As Camus says, “The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart.”
The universe, too, moves in a continuous and repetitive way. Planets orbit in precise paths, and physics reveals an invisible order. The Pythagorean school spoke of the “music of the spheres”: the idea that celestial bodies produce an inaudible harmony as they move according to mathematical proportions. This silent music symbolised divine order between the macrocosm and the microcosm. In contrast with this cosmic harmony, human life often seems chaotic and absurd. And yet, here we are. Like Sisyphus, we push our stones. But we also lift our gaze and ask: “What is the point of all this?” That question, even if unanswered, is already a form of freedom. The world may remain silent, but the question is ours.
Just as the ancients saw beauty in numbers and meaning in proportions, perhaps today we are called to find harmony in simple gestures: in shared routines, in human relationships, in the unseen spaces that nourish our hope. Perhaps the rock is not a burden, but an opportunity to discover what we are made of. As Camus wrote: “The true philosophical drama is the absurd. And the only serious question is whether life is worth living.”
In a world so often indifferent, what makes us human is not the stone: it is the way we carry it.
Just as π (pi) has no end and the planets keep moving, so too does our search for meaning never cease. Science seeks laws. Art seeks beauty. Philosophy seeks meaning. And each of us seeks a place, a reason, in this vast silence. The beauty of the universe lies not only in celestial orbits, but also in the courage of those who persist in pushing the rock, even knowing it will fall before reaching the summit. And so, meaning may not lie in the end – but in the act of continuing.
The 1st of May marks the struggle for better conditions, rights, and dignity in work. Keeping the myth in mind, work need not be a perpetual punishment. International Workers’ Day is, above all, a cry against dehumanising labour: it demands that work be fairer, more meaningful, less exhausting and alienating. Camus saw in Sisyphus a symbol of freedom won through lucidity. The worker who recognises their reality and fights to change it is also a “happy Sisyphus” – conscious, resistant, and perhaps, hopeful. Unlike the mythical figure, the worker is not condemned to endless repetition. They can resist. They can demand. They can act. They can change.
Workers’ Day is not just a holiday. It is a living memory of the mobilisation of those who dared to say “enough” to soulless labour. It is the result of collective action by many who fought for fair working hours, safety, decent wages and, above all, respect. Workers’ Day is a reminder that work should serve life – not the other way round.
May is an opportunity to remember that work is a right, not a punishment. May gives us space to reflect on dignity in labour, fair wages, safety, balance, and value. May is also a chance to reflect on the true meaning of our efforts – and to act accordingly.
Let the stone weigh no more than dignity. Let the summit not be unreachable. And may every worker, when looking at their path, find more than fatigue: may they find meaning, justice, and pride.
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