Once upon I time I owned an anthology entitled Basic Writings of Existentialism. I remember the editor began with, “I came to existentialism on my knees”, and this statement has always held some significance for me as, the more I think about it, I too came to existentialism in a state of atrophy. At sixteen years of age questions regarding the human condition, religion, and whether or not existence has intrinsic value became ingrained in my head. My newfound habit of theoretical questioning caused me to view the world from a state of near constant ennui as if all around me became characterized primarily by futility.
I sought shelter from my listless outlook through the alternate lives offered by classic literature, became enamored by the traditions of the French and Russians and soon came across a copy of The Stranger by French writer and absurdist philosopher Albert Camus. The correlation between my moody temperament and the dispassionate main character of the novel exhorted me to further research the world existential philosophy as if it were to become my roadmap and guide me towards the proposed light at the end of the tunnel which I had become trapped in.
It has now been five years and my journey towards understanding is still far from complete, though my continued studies have repeatedly renewed my confidence and passion in the study. For those who do not know, existential philosophy is centered on the idea that existence precedes essence or (simply put) no one is born with an express purpose. Instead it is the responsibility of the individual to create and maintain meaning in their lives.
Today I see existentialism as being a two part process. Firstly, the individual must accept the idea that no outside force will grant meaning to their lives. The ideas of destiny and a God who will divinely intervene in our life at opportune times must be rejected. This is not to say that religion and existentialism are mutually exclusive. Soren Kierkegaard, the father of existentialism, was a devout Christian his entire life. Once the individual is able to accept that meaning can only come from within they may move on to step two; inventing and applying their own meaning.
Though the two-step system seems simple enough I am afraid many people, including myself, become trapped in between the two. Existing in a place where the world is meaningless, but the possibility of manifesting meaning seems entirely out of our grasp. Thus, they venture dangerously close to the border of the unfortunate nihilistic perspective. I remember this period of stagnation in my life quite well. Soon after discovering the wonders (and horrors) of existentialism I skulked about coffee shops with my heavily annotated copy of Nausea and preached to resentful listeners how the plight of Sisyphus would become the perfect metaphor for the futility of existence. Never mind that he found peace as he journeyed down the hill, surely a life of constant and unnecessary struggle is worse than none.
I have certainly traveled far from this initial view, and have learned a few of the many realms and aspects which existentialism has to offer. As of late I find myself particularly taken by the absurdist theory of Camus (a lost dog always wanders home) which borrows from existentialism in that it firmly believes that humans will attempt to find the intrinsic meaning of existence, but will always fail. However, Camus, being the radical man he was, insisted that if humans were to be doomed to this existence they should proactively embrace the absurdity of it all. If life has no meaning we should attempt to live it in a state of complete freedom.
Indeed absurdist philosophy, as well as existentialism, for that matter paint a lovely picture where radical freedom is not only a possibility, but a necessity if we are to ever wish for a meaningful life. As I said earlier my journey is far from complete, a large part of my time is still spent gripped in terror at the prospect of complete freedom, knowing that a failure to generate meaning would be a personal failure that I only I will be responsible for. There are few transcendental moments where I feel myself sign into the realm of the absurd. The horror of the cosmos and the microscopic and meaningless existence which we have had deployed upon us is replaced with the knowledge that time will continue to flow without pause, and, as long we act with positive intentions, that is enough for now.
In the end existentialism is a long and temperamental road. It is a philosophy that seems solely characterized by incredible highs and counterbalanced by devastating lows. Yet, despite these issues, I am glad I walk it.
