> For the Camus of The Myth of Sisyphus, however, “Should I kill myself?” is the essential philosophical question. For him, it seems clear that the primary result of philosophy is action, not comprehension. His concern about “the most urgent of questions” is less a theoretical one than it is the life-and-death problem of whether and how to live.

I’ve read Camus before (and thoroughly enjoyed it), but I hadn’t come across this before.

I’m not suicidal and I don’t want to come across as someone to be concerned about, but I find this question similarly engrossing. I should read this.

I came to love philosophy a lot in my early 30s, but an eerie result I suppose is that it has caused me to feel a deep sense of… Perhaps I should say irrelevance. I find it difficult not to think in terms of much larger than practical timelines, or about people other than myself. I don’t feel as much like an individual as I did, but more like a part of humanity as a whole. From this lens, my presence here is wholly unnecessary.

I often wonder if my problem could be that I grew up in an intensely individualist society and I lack the tools to answer Camus’ question from this less familiar lens. How can I function in an individualist society with desires to be pro social towards others now and in the future, to a degree that is meaningful such that life would be “worth” living? Such that I’d feel I impacted the world in a way sufficiently aligned with my values?

Of course I’m positing here that my values are what makes life worthwhile. This question is somewhat hypothetical and I know everyone will ask this question with different parameters and weighting. That’s fine.

Again, not about to go jump under a cement truck. I enjoy selfishly loving my kids, pursuing hobbies, and simple things like sitting in the sun and smelling the warm resin of a nearby tree’s needles in the air while gnats flutter together in a beam of light. Or a simple bowl of warm rice with sesame seeds and sea salt with some greens from the garden. My youngest son climbing on me to cuddle and enjoying that while reflecting on his older brothers doing the same years ago (though not anymore). Life, in the most banal and trivial ways, is incomprehensibly beautiful for those of us fortunate enough to get to enjoy it. But what am I doing here if others are suffering and my joy amounts to nothing at best, yet likely a net negative for others?

Camus actually played a major role in me recognizing some of my most egotistic behaviours. His ideas aren’t particularly unique I suppose, but what cut through me is how he expressed them.

For example, a stoic from 2000 years ago might discuss the urgent importance of living by virtuous values with integrity, and while many (especially Epictetus) did a good job of undergirding the urgency, it winds up seeming somewhat academic. Camus on the other hand seemed to illustrate it in quite visceral ways, some of which made me felt like he could be writing about me. He spoke a very human-centric language at times, skipping the abstractions and jargon and cutting straight to what it is to live life poorly. I treasure this kind of honesty and clarity from people smarter than I am.

Not saying stoics were wrong or never managed to cut to the chase either. They actually did quite often, but Camus had a real flair for it in my opinion.