I know I must keep going. I have no memory of how I ended up here and no idea what lies on top of the mountain, but I know the journey hasn’t come to an end yet. Finding a comfortable, steady pace, I started walking, but it was hard to see ahead with all the mist clouding my vision. 

The wind awakened the trees from their slumber and gave their leaves a voice, one that I was eager to listen to. They spoke of a man named Sisyphus, who was punished with an eternal life of suffering by Zeus and Hades. The rest of his life was bound to pushing a boulder up a hill, only for it to fall back down. Day after day after day, that was all he did, despite knowing that in the end, all of his efforts would be to no avail.

“One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” How? Can one be happy knowing that every single day, struggling awaits them? Or perhaps it’s the little things along the way that give us some hope, some reason to continue forward, despite all the reasons not to. It’s the familiar faces that we see as we go to our favourite coffee shop, the friends whose words hug you, and the small wins along the way. 

Maybe all that ends up being enough for Sisyphus to push the boulder back up once more is looking at the sunset every once in a while, admiring the flowers along the way when ascending, and breathing in the fresh air at the top of the mountain.

But is he really happy? Every. Single. Day? Does he have anyone to talk to about his scars and his aching hands? 

I see it behind the pain in the eyes that no smile can mask, within hugs that last a few more seconds than they should, and within words saying “I’m fine,” yet the heart cries out of the lies that come out of one’s mouth. Even those feelings are a part of life and give it its blue hues, contrasting the yellow of those moments where your heart is filled with an immense happiness you cannot help but feel deeply grateful for. 

Life is fascinating with these contradicting moments, and I guess in a way, it makes you appreciate it even more. Sisyphus couldn’t have cherished the view at the top as much if he didn’t have to carry the burden of the boulder. It requires a special eye to be able to admire the beauty through the pain. 

By this point in the trail, my legs had started to ache. With the mist being lifted off, I still could see no end. How far could I go? 

Part of me hoped that the trees knew the way, as I just followed the way they swayed with no clue of where this led. Did I want there to be an end to which I was walking towards, a purpose perhaps? Somewhere between the pain in my legs from walking this far and my eyes that were in awe of the nature around me, I realized it really didn’t matter if there was an end or not.

What truly made the journey worthwhile was the experience and the peace I found within the harmony of the mountain surrounding my soul, within the trees that guided me, within the sound of my footsteps as I explored, and in the beating of my heart, reminding me that I still am. Sisyphus, too, isn’t only happy, but more importantly, he is a soul who has learned to achieve a peace that has set him free and opened his eyes to see beyond what his destiny has caged him into. 

Whether there is really a meaning or not, it is perhaps of no significance if we cannot be at peace with either. There are moments when we fall under the weight of the world, but our heads must rise again to see the warmth of the sun once more on our skin. That harmony with life itself gives power to persist beyond anything, for you have accepted what it means to be alive, what it means to open the door to another day, knowing it won’t be perfect. For Sisyphus to live a happy life beyond all that he must face and battle, he must first be at peace with himself and the life that flows within his soul.