[Kirism is a contemporary philosophy of life that I’ve developed over the last several decades. It is psychological, philosophical, and existential and takes into account human nature, the human predicament, our contemporary understanding of the world, and our pressing individual and species-wide challenges. I hope that you’ll enjoy learning more about it. In the first four posts of the series, we’ll look at the idea of absurd rebellion: what that is and why a Kirist adopts that attitude. This is the second of those four posts. To learn more about Kirism, please take a look at Lighting the Way, in which Kirism is introduced. To be in touch with me about Kirism, please drop me an email to [email protected].]
Yes, it may be absurd to bother. But the absurdity of bothering must not be allowed to stand as the perfect excuse for inaction. We nod at absurdity, we give it its due, and then we act. You acknowledge absurdity without letting absurdity defeat you.
Absurdity is not an excuse for inaction. It certainly could be. Can you think of a more powerful excuse for not bothering than the absurdity of bothering? But as someone who has decided to matter, you refuse to take that familiar, well-lighted route.
In Camus’s famous fable, Sisyphus, condemned by the gods to roll his rock up a mountain for all eternity, smiles at the absurdity of his situation. But in his peculiar way he has it easy. He can’t act freely, which means that he is nothing like you.
Sisyphus has no options and no way to matter. Oppressed and rendered completely impotent, he smiles the dignified, mostly vacant smile of a man no longer with us, a living dead man, one who for all intents and purposes is smiling from the afterlife.
Sisyphus can take no action in the real world. He can respond with dignity and with his peculiar smile to his situation but his situation is not yours. He is trapped in a sense even more monumental than yours. You can still do some good!
You are not Sisyphus. You are a man with a toothache and options, a woman with heartaches and choices. Your delicate amount of freedom, pitted against that ocean of absurdity, is your absurd burden to bear and your responsibility to manifest.
You, having smiled wryly at the absurdity of it all, must go about your impossible business. You acknowledge that it is absurd to stand alone, tired, out of sorts, and only wanting brunch, but there you are, rising to your feet and standing.
Sisyphus is wearing an ironic smile. Your smile is graver. You have your small portion of freedom, that portion that you are obliged to use, which makes it much harder for you to smile at all. Maybe you find that you can’t smile. But still you can act.
It is ridiculous that a purposeless universe should make it so hard on us, effectively acting, in its completely indifferent way, as if it were actually malevolent. Ridiculous … but here we are. So, we do not bow. Rather, we rebel. Our absurd rebellion!
We know that absurd rebellion is the right way. When we encounter a character in literature who ought to rebel and who doesn’t, we want to shake him. Sir, can’t you see the absurdity of your situation and that your only wise response is rebellion?
In Kafka’s The Trial, K. hunts for rational answers to his absurd situation. Finally, he is absurdly executed. Watching him, we want to scream, “Stop it already! Don’t you see that rebellion is your only answer! A ridiculous answer; but still your only one!”
We want K. to refuse to sheepishly play along. We want him to laugh just once at the absurdity of his situation, so as to unlock the door to some resistance. Please, K., laugh at the absurdity of your indictment and your punishment. And rebel!
Of course, some rebellions are impossible. You can’t stop the sun from slowly dying. You can’t stop time from passing. You can’t stop falls from hurting. You can’t stop your mind from whirring. You might as well beg electricity to stop shocking.
And then there are all those pointless rebellions. Spending the week fighting that unfair service charge on your bill. Refusing a seat on the bus because you hate looking old. And so many other rebellions that waste your time and do not serve you.
Skip the pointless rebellions and the impossible rebellions. Skip those rebellions that arise just because you’re angry or hurt. Skip those rebellions that are just versions of acting out. Skip those rebellions that do not serve you or the world.
Which rebellions, then, are the absurd rebellions that are the hallmark and cornerstone of Kirism? They are your absurd rebellions on the side of the good. They are your rebellions for the benefit of all humankind, played out in tiny installments.
You might rebel by singing. It’s absurd to suppose that your protest song can stop the tidal wave of history. But you sing it anyway. You sing it on street corners and from rooftops. You sing out for justice, a rebel songbird, not caring if you look ridiculous.
You might rebel by breaking the silence. Can your few kind words, offered in passing, do much good? You sigh, put aside your distaste for your species, and stop and chat anyway. You say a nice thing to this person who needs some comforting.
You might rebel by putting the world on your shoulders. It’s absurd to suppose that it’s your job to save the world. What could be more ridiculous? And still anything less is too little. Everyone tells you, “Do less.” You say, “No, I don’t think so.”
You might rebel against your own programming. How absurd to arm-wrestle yourself! But you know about your shadow side, your trickster nature, your callous impulses, your venalities, and, absurdly enough, you valiantly rebel against your own nature.
You might rebel against the very idea that you do not matter. Yes, you are puny. Yes, you are a lone creature among billions and billions of others. Yes, you are miniscule. But do not let your insignificance stop you from aiming for grandeur!
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Lighting the Way: How Kirism Answers Life’s Toughest Questions
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: iStock
