"Live to the point of tears."

Albert Camus once said "Live to the point of tears". At first I just thought he meant, live so fully and happily such that you will cry. But I was wrong. At least I thought I was. Because this quote has a much darker connotation to it, at least that's how I interpret it.

Why?

It all started when I got rather obsessed with Albert Camus. I am going through the significant what-is-the-purpose-of-life phase (haven't most of us), and I just kept wondering... Why am I born a human? Why not a bacterium, even a speck of dust? Why not that table? Or the paper that got blown away by the wind which I had never noticed had gone?

The most immediate answer at that time was that I have a greater purpose. I am born at the top of the hierarchy of everything (at least sort of) because I have a greater purpose. I have privileges, I can use the internet, I have a complete family etc. because I am meant to do something great. However, it took me a while to realise that there are two essential flaws in this argument.

1. The assumption is that I am here for a reason given by this higher form/s of authority which may or may not exist
2. Following my logic, people living in poorer parts of the world, and the less unfortunate have a less purpose in life than me. (This doesn't sound fair, because honestly who am I to judge?)

However, at that point in time, I was satisfied with that answer, because it made me feel empowered, gave me a reason to use my time meaningfully. Right now, I have a more pessimistic view about it.

Why am I born a human? Why not a bacterium, even a speck of dust? Why not that table? Or that paper that got blown away by the wind and I had never noticed that it has gone?

Because, it doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter if I were just a speck of dust, or anything else that is not a human that is living my life right now. Because when I die, what am I going to be? When everything dies, gets destroyed, what is left of them? Nothing...

I am not going to mean anything more than anything else. Even if people might remember me, or that I left a permanent imprint on a physical object. However, when time comes, those people will gradually forget about me. When earth collapses upon itself, nothing will remain of my existence. Compared to the vast history and future of the universe, my existence is negligible.

In the end, there is no difference between me being who I am and if I were something else. There is no meaning as to why I am a human, why I have consciousness, why I have life.

Yes, I said it.

Life has no meaning.

Let me repeat it.

Life has no meaning.

But, that doesn't make sense? If life has no meaning, why do we all not go and commit suicide, and just give up on life? Because,

who said we cannot be content without a meaning in life?

The idea that a content life can have no meaning was one Albert Camus was famed for. He gave the example of Sisyphus, a person from Greek mythology whom was punished. He was tasked to roll a rock to the top of a mountain, and that rock will fall back of its own weight after it reaches the to of the mountain (http://www.mythweb.com/encyc/entries/sisyphus.html). It sounded like a pointless task, and seemed like a horrible punishment alright.

Or is it a punishment?

Camus' idea was that Sisyphus is perfectly content with what he was doing. "The struggle itself (...) is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy," Albert Camus wrote. (http://www.nyu.edu/classes/keefer/hell/camus.html)

What he means that, it doesn't matter than the task of rolling the rock up has no meaning in itself, the struggle to push the rock up is "meaningful", and enough for Sisyphus to feel happy and content.

And actually, it makes sense.

Let me ask you, are you content with your life? (I guess this is hard to answer)
But at the very least, do you feel like giving up on life right now?
Why not?

Because we still have a chance at things?
Because there is still so much we can do with this life?
(even if we know our lives are going to end eventually in the future?)

Our lives are pretty much like Sisyphus' punishment. Sisyphus rolls the rock up a mountain, knowing that it will fall back down. We live, knowing that we will die one day.

Yet, do we find life a punishment? Maybe, if you think hard enough about it.

However, once again, the lack of meaning in life itself does not matter, because as we struggle to fill our days with things that interest us, do things that we are passionate about, or simply breathe and take in the air - That, my dear friends, is enough for us. We give ourselves our own purpose in this pointless life. We empower ourselves. It is scary to consider, though, that whatever "big purpose" we give ourselves might just disintegrate into nothingness after our life ends.

However, personally, that was not what scared me the most.

What scares me the most was that all the people I treasure around me are going to be gone eventually too. The meals my parents cooked for me and vice versa. The times my brother and I bickered just for the fun of it. The times I cried and my best friend stayed by my side, just to comfort me until I slept. It is not just your life that is meaningless. Everybody's life is meaningless.

Everything you hold dear to you is not going to consequent anything in the big picture of the universe. Yet, that does not stop us from remembering and cherishing them, does it? On the contrary, it makes us (at least me) treasure those moments, those people even more, because these are feeble memories that will only exist for a negligible sliver of the existence of the universe, and are going to perish forever in the future.

Maybe it is futile trying to remember them. Maybe there is no point in it all.
(I keep telling myself that sometimes.
And that scared me.)

All those memories, for a lack of a better word, meant so much. I would rather think that they are part of this great plan of things, that they really meant something great and important.

But, I guess, maybe it is enough that they mean a lot to me. As long as they mean something great and important to me, who is to say that it does not "really mean something great and important"?

(this is the part where I get really sentimental and starts to make a little sense so I shall just wrap up)

Perhaps, this is why Camus tells us to "Live to the point of tears".

Life in itself, is rather meaningless. It will seem so unfair for everything wonderful and everything that you hold dear to will value to nothing in the big picture of things. We are so helpless against it. It makes us want to cry.

Yet, even so, even knowing that everything we gain is going to be lost. We would rather "Live to the point of tears" than have never lived at all.

Yes, it is all going to end,

but really, that does not matter

as long as life matters and means something to us (albeit only for the duration of our existence), and the meaning of life shall be whatever you wish to give it.

P.s. I find this reddit thread very inspiring and insightful and thought-provoking (yes haha I am linking a reddit thread after some philosophical post thing): http://www.reddit.com/r/DecidingToBeBetter/comments/1utm4k/does_anyone_else_ever_get_overwhelmed_by_the_fact/ (Hope you'll enjoy the read as much as I did!)