Albert Camus suggested readers 'imagine Sisyphus happy,' as the mythical character's constant bolder-up-a-mountain exertion seems to, otherwise, be futile.The cruelly-evil King Sisyphus (who was cunning enough to successfully trick death a few times) is eventually sentenced by the gods to an eternity in hell, where his human muscles never stop exerting against gravity and his human mind knows that there is no finish line. All drudgery. No goal.
And, one might wonder: why the ancient Greek writer of this allegory did not have Zeus creating an infinitely endless mountain for Sisyphus to roll a bolder ever upwards? One might reasonably assume it to be because reaching an apex appears to be "accomplishment of a goal." With the real punishment occurring when he watches the bolder crash into the valley-bottom, him having to descend after it, and him resuming this endless-task at its starting point, over-and-over, for eternity; that might prohibit him from using the simple mental trickery all humans commonly use to delude themselves. Right?
This could be the "hidden crux" of this entire parable, don't you think? Since Sisyphus had been cunning enough to "trick the gods, and even death" a few times, obviously the ancient Greek gods did not possess an ability to read King Sisyphus' mind or to listen-in on his every conversation. Otherwise, they would have known (when he told his wife to leave his dead body in the town's public square) that his intent—to request permission for a brief pop-back to the living world to remind his wife to bury his body—was just another ruse.
So, Sisyphus is eventually caught and required to toil in hell. Endlessly straining without a reason; fully aware that his strife serves no purpose. "Imagine Sisyphus happy," is Camus pointing out how Sisyphus would still be capable of tricking the gods. Because all humans create our own happiness, daily, even when we are aware of the absurdity.
It would be absurd to purchase, construct, maintain, and stock a bird-feeder in your yard. Just to re-stock it. It would be absurd to rent your workweek to an employer for decades. Just to retire. It would be absurd to (fill in the verb and direct-object of this sentence). Just to end this paragraph.
Unless it makes you happy.
So is the solution as simple as: Pretend to be happy?
No—not in the commonly-understood context of pretend. But. Imagine Sisyphus deciding to make a game out of his task. He visually plots-out a reasonably easy path on the side of the mountain immediately ahead of him; he chooses the best positions to put his hands on the bolder; he tries to avoid places where he has previously lost his grip. And, when he doesn't lose his grip, he feels the simple pleasure of choosing correctly. When he felt the bolder teetering on the edge of an outcropping and exerted his push in the correct direction to be able to visually plot-out the next portion of the path ahead—he has become aware that he just accomplished the mental task he had chosen for himself in that moment. And that momentary success would make him feel pleasure.
Millions upon billions of pleasantly-and-happily-deluded humans continuously perform their Sisyphean-tasks; no-matter if they are fully aware of the pointlessness of it all or if they are blindly, blissfully, unaware. Those who have found a way to be happy doing it (no matter what it is) are those who have discovered how to mentally create for themselves: "small pleasures."
Those with a sufficient number of recent small pleasures (relative to their remembered past experiences) possess an increase in their overall baseline happiness.
Those who focus on the mundane labor, the physical discomfort, the futility, or think "everything-dies-so-why-should-I-go-on?" are choosing to not decide to find any small pleasures for themselves.
Choose for yourself.
I choose to spend a small percentage of my time (and retirement pension) re-stocking my bird-feeders. It brings small pleasure.
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