r/Absurdism

I study physics in university, so I only read philosophy when I feel a genuine personal need for it. I have read The Myth of Sisyphus a few times, but my background in this area is limited. This reflection comes from an idea that helped me persevere through some of my worst moments of despair, and I want to share it to get honest feedback and clarify my understanding.

"He who has a why to live can bear almost any how."
(Nietzsche / Frankl)

At face value, this idea often feels disconnected from absurdism because it sounds like a search for desire, purpose, or grand meaning.

What if we look at the "why" differently? What if the "why" is not an invented purpose or an internal enlightenment, but purely the conscious choice to confront the absurd?
Reading essays and myths gives us the vocabulary we need to make sense of our experience. Finding that shared language brings comfort, and that comfort is an important part of recovering from deep personal turmoil.

At the same time, we cannot let ourselves get too comfortable living inside someone else's words. That initial relief is only a flag planted at the top of the mountain. The goal in life is never to balance the boulder at the summit. The real task is walking back down to the base and finding our peace within the physical effort of pushing the weight back up.

Living this out is fundamentally solitary, but that is not a flaw in the philosophy. The weight belongs to each of us individually, and recognizing that responsibility is where real freedom actually begins.

For those more familiar with Camus and existentialism: does viewing the "why" as the sheer choice to struggle make sense within absurdism, or does it miss the point of his philosophy? I would appreciate your honest thoughts.

I have come across a modern interpretation of Kierkegaard’s work recently, and wanted to share it with you all:

“I see it all perfectly; there are two possibilities – one can do this or that. My personal opinion and advice to you is – do it or do not do it, you will regret it either way.”

This is, of course, a paraphrase of Either/Or, in which Kierkegaard wrote “Marry, and you will regret it; don’t marry, you will also regret it…” referring to his own thoughts on women and marriage.
I think this quote captures the existential dread of having to make conscious decisions beautifully – one regrets what one does, and one regrets what one does not.

It encapsulates the feeling of loss and of wasted potential that comes with every choice, since choosing one option over another generally means abandoning the other, and regretting the loss. Is the thought of “doing the right thing” as Kierkegaard suggests even comforting?
Is it a relief to admit that no matter what choice you make, you will always regret it (because what you did not choose will always be there, a ghost of the possibility you gave up on)? Does it free us, or does it constrain us?

I’ve read a few of his but I want to focus on my favourite. I first read the stranger a few years back. I knew about absurdism before this but I feel like this really introduced me. The fact that the book has so much in it, but not a lot at the same time. Full of meaning but also complete emptiness, took me allot to realise that was the point of the whole book. Such a great read as I believe it is quite a simple read. However his way of thinking baffles me, although I’m slightly in awe of it. His utter inability to care for anything that is not in his control and also when they are in his control, still staying so calm. Highly recommend this book as an introduction to existentialism and absurdist views.

Preface: I wrote this for the joy of the philosophical expression and the possibility that it may be a ladder for those who are stuck in a pit of despair that often comes with Nihilism. I know that just because these philosophical ideas helped me immensely when I was in my own pit of depression, they may not be useful for everyone else. Even if only one person gains some peace from this, it would make it all the more worth it to me. To be clear, the peace I'm referring to is not a complete relief from suffering, that's impossible. The peace I am referring to is to get back a sense of dignity and control over one's self.
I am not an Academic. I'm a Blue Collar man (Water/Wastewater Plant Operator) with a love of philosophy. I'm not an Educated Intellectual. I'm a man with an insatiable curiosity, which led me to asking a lot of the Big Questions in life. I understand that I'm building this off the backs of Philosophical Giants. I fully acknowledge that none of this is an original philosophical idea that comes from me. It is my subjective interpretation of multiple philosophies, and an attempt to build something usable in daily life. I am open to the criticism or any rebuttal I may receive from this.

Opening quote: "All are lunatics, but he who can analyze his delusions is called a philosopher" — Ambrose Bierce.

The Silence is Not a Sentence. The universe does not speak, and it has no plan for me. This is not a tragedy, it is radical freedom. Because there is no Objective Meaning, I am not a servant to a cosmic script. I cannot fail at being me. I am the architect of my own significance.

The Future is a Cloud of Probability. I reject the premise of Pre-determinism. I recognize that at the very heart of reality, there is a roll of the dice. Even if the odds are stacked, the outcome is not fixed until I act. I am the deciding factor in my own timeline. I am not unaware of the fact that my will may be hampered by circumstance, but there will most certainly be choices to make along the way. Even though my autonomy is possibly an illusion, with intended irony I choose to be a Driver, rather than being a Passenger beholden to the mercy of fate. I would rather die with my hands on the wheel of a delusion that allows me to climb, as opposed to rotting in a truth that keeps me at the bottom. I do not claim my autonomy as a leap of religious faith, but as a functional necessity. Whether the Self is a biological machine or a sovereign soul is a debate for the comfortable. For the Rebel in the pit, there is only one reality in which I can proceed, and that's with my on hands the wheel. The difference is indistinguishable to the human experience anyway. Even if the dice are loaded, playing the game will still feel the same.

I Trust the Yay and the Nay, the Intuition, the Internal Compass. My morality is not a math equation, nor does it come from a will outside of my own. It is a complex expression of my emotions. This is an acknowledgement that my values come from my humanity, my empathy, my disgust, and my delight. I do not need a Universal Law to justify being kind. I am kind because it is the melody I choose to play.

The Rebel's Compassion for Their Shadow. The Shadow is everything we deny about ourselves, our capacity for anger, selfishness, our insecurities, and the coldness that Nihilism feeds on. I recognize that I am not merely a creature of The Light, The Yay. Beside the fire of my will there is a Shadow where my bitterness, my fatigue, and my capacity for indifference reside. To pretend it isn't there is a lie, to be ruled by it is a defeat. The Rebel does not suppress the Shadow, the Rebel integrates it. I acknowledge my capacity for darkness so that I may consciously choose the light. My kindness is not dulled teeth, it is a choice to keep them bared only at the void, and never at the vulnerable.

Compassion as Necessity. When I see the Shadow in another, their lashing out, their retreat into apathy, or their wreckage, I do not meet it with spite nor pity. I meet it with the recognition of a fellow lunatic. I understand that their ruins are often the result of a war with the Absurd that they are currently losing.

The Non-Sacred Mercy. I do not forgive because a scripture tells me to. I do not choose kindness because it is Right in a cosmic sense, but because it is the most potent weapon I have against the entropy that seeks to turn us all back into dust. I offer compassion because, in a world of infinite cold, the only thing more absurd than the vacuum is two people adding to it by hurting each other. I choose to be the Heat even when the other person has forgotten how to strike a match. I care for them not despite their Shadow, but as a complete blueprint that includes it.

The Rebellion is Internal. My defiance against the Absurd is not found in grand gestures, but in my refusal to be indifferent. Despite the world being cold, I will be warm. In defiance of the chaos, I choose to be principled. The world and life may be meaningless, and pointless, but I can find beauty in it regardless.

When Grief Strikes at the Rebel’s Heart. We don't get to love someone for free. In a universe that doesn't care if we live or die, every Yay we say to another person is a loan. When they are gone, the bill comes due in the form of grief. It hurts because it was real. If life was actually as empty as the Nihilists say, losing someone wouldn't feel like having your ribs cracked open. The pain is proof that I am not just a passenger, I am invested. I put skin in the game. The Rebel does not seek to get over grief, to erase the pain would be to erase the significance of what was lost. I wear my sorrow as a badge of honor, and a declaration of the fact that I dared to care about something in a world that ends in entropy, and I’d do it again. The Rebel views grief as the ultimate price of having dared to create meaning in the first place. The Rebel is never a victim. Even in grief. The universe did not notice their departure, but I did. In my defiance, their existence remains a fundamental truth. I will not let the void have the last word. I keep the language of the lost alive by continuing to play the melody they inspired.

Failure Strengthening The Rebel's Conviction. If I am the architect of my own meaning, then every setback is just a lesson, an opportunity for growth. When I stumble, when my plans turn to dust, or when I fall short of my own principles, I don't look for a scapegoat in Fate nor in a Deity's Will. I focus on the role I had to play, and take accountability for my own shortcomings. However, the Rebel doesn't waste time on self-loathing, because self-loathing is just another form of The Silence, it is a distraction from the work of building. Every time I fail and refuse to sink into apathy, my No to the void becomes louder. I take accountability not to satisfy a judge, but to master my own machinery. I am not defined by the height of my success, but by the calluses on my hands from climbing back out of the pit.

The Rebel's Tribe. Pride is a sturdy tool, but it can become a prison of solitary confinement. There are nights when the Shadow is too heavy and the calluses have worn thin. In these moments, the Rebel does not retreat into the silence. To ask for help is not to surrender your seat as the Driver, it's calling for a Navigator when the fog is too thick. We are a Tribe of fellow lunatics. To allow another Rebel to help hold the ladder for you is an act of trust that defies the isolation of the void. We do not climb together because we are weak, we climb together because the Rebellion is too magnificent to be a purely solo act. I will offer my hand to any who reach, and I will wait by the ledge for the weary, but I will not be an anchor for those who have traded their climb for the comfort of the fall. The Rebel must remember, they cannot help someone who completely lacks the will to climb.

The Rebel’s Covenant. Love is defiant against the cold nature of reality. The universe is a void, and biology is a machine, but devotion is transcendent. We do not love because we are soulmates trapped in a pre-written destiny, we love because, in a world of infinite silence, we choose to speak the same language.
No Sacred Contracts, Only Creative Wills. I do not promise to love you because a book, a law, or because some deity tells me to. I promise to love you because you are the most compelling yay I have ever encountered. Our commitment is not a cage, it is a collaborative masterpiece. I will not try to fix you into a cosmic mold. You are an architect, just as I am. I love your blueprints, your scaffolding, and even your ruins. To love you is to respect the entirety of your individuality.
Sharing the Umbrella. When the void of Nihilism threatens to swallow the day, we do not despair. We lean into the irony. We hold the umbrella for each other not because it stops the rain of absurdity, but because looking at you under the silk is better than standing alone in the storm.
The Defiant Heat. Entropy says everything eventually grows cold. The Rebel says Not tonight. We generate our own heat. Our kindness toward one another is a deliberate strike against the coldness of the vacuum. The world is indifferent to our union, so we will make our private world magnificent. We are two rebels sharing a drink while the stars go out.

Humility in Uncertainty. I do not need to be right about the secrets of the universe to live a good life. I choose to live contently with the irony of awareness, knowing the void of nothingness exists, but choosing to enjoy the day anyway.

Grit of the Rebellion. Remember that even the best-built engine needs to idle. A fist can't stay clenched forever. To take a breath and enjoy a quiet moment isn't surrendering to the void. Instead, it’s proving you’re the one in control of the clock. Rest to remember why you are climbing, don't rest until you forget you're on a ladder. Whenever you feel that pull back into Nihilism, ask yourself, Am I waiting for the universe to give me permission to care? The Rebel answer is always No. You don't need permission from a vacuum. Your Yay is the only permission you'll ever need. Even the smallest Yay is a middle finger to the void.

Closing Quote: "In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer." — Albert Camus, "Return to Tipasa" (1952)

Written by: just another fellow lunatic.

I want to start of by saying I haven't engaged with any of Camus' works except 'The Plague'. I want to keep this discussion within the context of Camus' wider philosophical views and this book with Dr Rieux is a character in.

Whenever there was a conversation Dr Rieux was engaged in and God was a focus, I felt like his responses where of someone who acknowledges God, but doesn't love Him. There was a hateful rage directed to God's method of utilising suffering and pain to either teach or punish mankind. As he says so himself in conversation with Paneloux: "No, Father. I've a very different idea of love. And until my dying day I shall refuse to love a scheme of things in which children are put to torture." And the reason why I felt this was because it reminded me of myself, and the journey I've had with faith, suffering, and purpose.

I was born a Muslim and for much of my childhood and teenage life, I was Muslim due to the influence of my parents and the neighbourhood around me. I studied the Quran without much understanding of what I was reading but I have a level of respect for it. I was a typical kid and spent my time having fun with friends. And then, my grandmother died. It broke me mentally and for the first time in my life, I was forced to confront the concept of death. I sat with it for months and could finally say I was at a point that I somewhat accepted the inevitability of death and my fear of it wasn't debilatating. I should also mention that my porn usage increased soon after this to the point where I would call it an addiction. I still suffer with it now. As with any repeated activity that triggers a high level of dopamine, there were less and less things that I was enjoying. Gaming in particular, which I relied on heavily for my joy, was not fun at all. I stopped playing games and I realised that there wasn't much to live for once life becomes this grey mess.

Finding myself in this state, I started my search for meaning. I began with reading a translation of the book I had engaged with my whole life but never understood, The Quran. I read it's translation cover-to-cover and I was left in awe. There was so much wisdom that had never been imparted to me and I finally had some zeal. And for some months from this point, I was the sincerest at being Muslim as I ever was and was to be. That is until I turned my attention to God Himself and some of the discomforts I had felt with the languaged used. There was this almost delight in the punishment and torture of human beings. Words that imply that the punished humans would deserve it and that all they had to do was listen and take heed. Whilst I believed and still do believe that the Quran is the literal word of God, there was one thing I found to be lacking in the text. And that was the reasoning for God creating anything and everything.

The Quran and Islam certainly can give you meaning. If you are willing to trust God and take the leap of faith. This leap of faith is so because God doesn't give his reasoning. He doesn't inform you of how suffering will lead you to betterment. He just dishes out his judgment and whilst everyone experiences it, a person of faith is meant to not only accept the suffering, but love it as they love God. As Paneloux's statement in his second sermon so accurately put: "We must accept the dilemma and choose either to hate God or to love God." But despite this, I'm not here to lecture people or preach to them about Islam. My orientation towards absurdism is due to my inability to love God. If He doesn't give His reasoning, I struggle to fulfill his demands which are meant to express your love for Him. And whilst we don't know Dr rieux's previous religious background, I got the feeling whilst reading that his mindset was similar. Just take this specific passage from his conversation with Paneloux before the second sermon:

"Ah, doctor," he said sadly, "I've just realized what is meant by 'grace.'"

to which Dr Rieux replies

"It's something I haven't got; that I know..."

This is exactly how I feel, and I was shocked that Camus could create a characters who's feelings and thoughts I so closely associated with. Whilst some of my friends and family turn ever deeper into religion with some being dangerously defensive of it, I have turned away and only keep this veneer of being a Muslim so I'm not alienated from the community I have shared my whole life. Perhaps they chose not to confront the ideas of purpose and meaning as I have, or they chose the comfort that faith brings. Which I can understand as having turned away from God, I've been left feeling blind and direction-less on this path of life. Whilst I find myself unable to love God, I acknowledge Him but I'm not the better for it.

Many discussions surrounding meaninglessness and existential dread seem to share a

Fundamental flaw: they evaluate human existence through an anthropocentric lens, secretly expecting humans to be "above" nature, and then mourn when no grand cosmic purpose is found.
When people conclude that "life has no higher meaning," they are usually comparing human existence to a fictional ideal, a universe designed specifically for us. But from a grounded, biological perspective, this disappointment makes no sense.
Here is why this perspective is flawed:

The Biological Baseline: We are, first and foremost, biological organisms. Our fundamental baseline, our "objective" foundation, is rooted in biology: survival, homeostasis, adaptation, and continuation. Expecting a cosmic mandate beyond this is biologically illiterate.

The Subjective Value Fallacy: The absence of a cosmic, objective purpose does not imply a total lack of meaning. It simply shifts meaning from objective or given to subjective or constructed. The fact that our values, desires, and emotional drives are tied to our evolved neurobiology does not make them any less real or valid to us.

Constructing Meaning: Once we accept that we are animals with a complex conscious experience, the lack of an inherent objective purpose ceases to be a tragedy. It becomes a clean slate. Pain feels bad, joy feels good, curiosity drives us, and connection fulfills us. These subjective experiences are real because we experience them.

Dismissing life as pointless simply because there is no grand divine blueprint ignores what we actually are. We don't need the universe to give us a reason to exist; as living organismsi with subjective experiences, we hold the authority and the responsibility to define what matters to us.

To be a true absurdist is to disagree with Albert Camus and Jean Paul Sartre. The two would encourage you to disagree with them anyways, otherwise you’re not being yourself as an absurdist philosopher.

I just finished reading The Plague by Albert Camus and I just wanted to write. I haven’t read any of Camus’ previous work nor do I know much about him.What an impactful book that I also found extremely difficult to get through. I don’t know if my reduced attention span had any impact on this but regardless, I finished the book and I was glad I ever opened this book. In particular, I was fascinated by his discourse on God. There are varying perspectives on this and Camus doesn’t explicitly tell us one is right which I liked. 

The priest Panaleoux is a great character and represents people of strong faith. He chooses to believe in God and accept whatever God has to offer, including pain. In his second speech, he lays down what he believes to be the crux of the issue. Either we love God and accept his judgement, or we hate God and shatter our reality. In denying God, we reject everything. And he believes all that will leave is further suffering and pain. In other words, we are powerless against God.

The Doctor Rieux has a different perspective, and one that I partially hold. Riex who is also the book’s narrator sympathises with the human reality and his job as a doctor allows him to somewhat fight against the world’s order. The Plague, which Panaleoux understands to be a lesson for mankind and the town in particular, can be fought by the Doctor. However, this comes at a cost. He will never know victory, and all that will be left in his wake is defeat. But there is a sort of consolation in that you tried. From what I understood, he is a man that believes in God, but doesn’t love Him. And according to the priest, lacking in the love of God will only leave us bewildered and confused.

But the character that I resonated with the most was definitely Tarrou. It’s easy to believe that your thoughts, beliefs and doubts are your own but it felt like Camus had burrowed deep into my being and presented an expression of my soul on the pages I was reading.  I hadn’t felt that since reading Crime and Punishment. Tarrou is a man not from this world, nor from the next. God is someone not in his sphere of thought, but someone like Paneloux would believe he is looking for. The Doctor thinks he is looking for something akin to peace. But in Tarrou’s mind and as presented by Camus I believe, Tarrou spends his existence wandering in suffering. He doesn’t believe in mankind, nor in God. He is looking for something that can’t be found. The Doctor even mentions that his giving a hand to the health department, is part of this fruitless search he is on. Based on my experience, I believe he is looking for meaning. He is looking for purpose. The Doctor finds it in his work. The Priest finds it in his devotion to God.

I think all these different characters represent thoughts that Camus had previously carried, or currently carries simultaneously. I’m someone who is doubting conventional religions, but I firmly believe in a God. However, I have struggled to love Him in any capacity and so I feel lost, unable to tether myself anywhere and find meaning. What an amazing work by Camus and I will be reading more of his works.

Maybe he knows he is so bad and he’s tired of it. What do you think? Here we go again for him. Someone else to roll down my hill after realizing that pushing them up was a learning experience waste of time.

So this thought crossed my mind today, and I’m sure someone would have already said it out.

A man (conceptually defined by sociopolitical institutions and cultural understanding) reaches a point where he becomes either disillusioned or frustrated by what he experiences in his everyday life. Disillusioned can be at workplace, family, social circle; while frustrated in his dating ventures, retaining job and financial stability, and dealing with insecurities.

At this point, I think the philosophical suicide would be to either gravitate towards manosphere or self-help industrial complex. I don’t see much difference between religion and self-help/manosphere honestly. All of them rely on one thing, and that’s hope.

But to revolt is to reject and resist the definition reinforced by the sociopolitical institutions through morals, values, and language. The codes that men internalise and inherit through generations, ensure that men benefit out of the existing structures, and never question these structures if they want to continue to benefit of them.

I think that the entire gendered role, and the myth of man, is more damaging than women not wanting to date men. The whole idea of ‘man’ (as portrayed in pop-culture and media) is ridiculous. I believe that we are humans, and we get to construct our own narrative, irrespective of the gender or any other social identity that we are born with.

It’s hard. We all want to express something like we exist. That’s good man. Take breaks. Don’t be hard on yourself. Enjoy the simple things. But Art? You get to be alone. Finally. They might have hurt you making Camus and Sartre more valid. But enjoy your own company eventually. That’s the only way Art is possible.