I like the article a lot more re: life and not simply law practice, but whatever:
Commentary: What Lawyers Can Learn From Sisyphus
James Dolan
Texas Lawyer
October 23, 2009
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In Greek mythology, Sisyphus was a convict. He committed a variety of crimes: deceit, theft and hubris. He was guilty of impugning death and returning to the land of the living, where he enjoyed the extraordinary beauty of a life reclaimed before being sent back to the Underworld to face his punishment.
The stories that detail each of these crimes are many and complex, but they have in common the fact that Sisyphus was guilty of being human, of loving life and wanting to cheat death.
His punishment was severe: For having deceived Hades, the god of the Underworld, he was condemned to roll a heavy rock uphill to a point almost reaching the light of the living world, only to witness its descent after each day's labor, the ultimate expression of the absurd.
The message is plain -- each of us is an echo of Sisyphus, reliving his struggle in our own lives. We are a reincarnation of that most unheroic figure of myth. He who gave it his best, enjoyed a brief, but beautiful life in defiance of death, but in the end was punished for the hubris of trying to transcend his own humanity.
As the echoes of Sisyphus, we all possess a rock. Or, as the Buddhists say, the essence of our existence is suffering. When that is all you have, what must be done? Psychologist Viktor Frankl said that if all you have is suffering, do it as beautifully as possible.
At this moment, we all have a sense of our rock, of the suffering of the world, a suffering that seems to have no point. Lawyers I speak to often express an acute sense of the absurdity of law practice; that it seldom has to do with right and wrong, with mending grievances, making a better world or helping those truly in need. They complain that it is more often a peculiarly isolated competitive business, logging billable hours or working alone through monstrous documents or meaningless research related to arcane forms of litigation.
A litigator might win a case, and for a brief moment glimpse the exalted terrain of those who live without care. But within hours, perhaps even at the moment of favorable decision, as the weight of the rock falls away and he experiences the relief of labors' end, he turns to see it rolling down the slope. Then he fills with the dread of knowing that if he will ever again taste the air of the living world, he must go down to the bottom and start over again with a new case -- again and again.
And this is if the decision is favorable. The loser also must return to the base, but with the taste of defeat in his mouth, fully aware that those months, if not years, of labor have gone into a losing proposition. The only correct reply is appeal (another rock), or a new case.
It is all too easy to develop a sense of futility and the absurd in this world of seemingly arbitrary judges, unethical opponents, and dishonest parties and partners. It is not hard to understand why so many lawyers long for retirement.
In one of the stories of Sisyphus, he escaped the Underworld and returned to the land of the living, the very world in which his farmland had to be tended and stock cared for, and where his neighbors connived against him. Yet he found it extraordinarily beautiful.
My query is this: If you were given a death sentence or a fatal prognosis, and told you could no longer live this life -- as imperfect as it may be -- would you not give anything to get it back?
The fatal diagnosis would immediately cast that life of struggle and rolling the rock in a different light, and reveal its meaning. As we know, this is exactly the discovery made by those who have been given a real, fatal diagnosis. They learn that the rocks are our truest and most valuable possession. Sisyphus' rock is the jewel of his existence; without it his life has no meaning.
Consider the fate of those who, for whatever reason, lose their rock. We can all think of people who, for one reason or another, no longer struggle. Typically, they recommit themselves to a "rock" of some kind that has to do with good works for others, or they invent for themselves a rock far more hellish than the one they started with, one that has to do with addiction, loss of meaningful relationships, and ultimately a return to poverty of one kind or another.
What can be learned from Sisyphus and his rock?
We each have a rock that is our daily struggle, and for lawyers it is the complexity and imperfectness of law practice. There is no human free of his rock. Like a Buddhist, we can accept suffering as a given and transform it into something beautiful. And we must each learn to bless our rock, for without it and all of its obvious difficulty, we would only invent another.
James Dolan, M.A., is a professional coach and psychotherapist with 30 years of experience in private practice in the Dallas area. He works with lawyers and physicians to improve business development, communications, internal relations, leadership and client-patient retention. Questions related to these issues can be e-mailed to dolan.james@sbcglobal.net.
James Dolan
Texas Lawyer
October 23, 2009
Post a Comment
In Greek mythology, Sisyphus was a convict. He committed a variety of crimes: deceit, theft and hubris. He was guilty of impugning death and returning to the land of the living, where he enjoyed the extraordinary beauty of a life reclaimed before being sent back to the Underworld to face his punishment.
The stories that detail each of these crimes are many and complex, but they have in common the fact that Sisyphus was guilty of being human, of loving life and wanting to cheat death.
His punishment was severe: For having deceived Hades, the god of the Underworld, he was condemned to roll a heavy rock uphill to a point almost reaching the light of the living world, only to witness its descent after each day's labor, the ultimate expression of the absurd.
The message is plain -- each of us is an echo of Sisyphus, reliving his struggle in our own lives. We are a reincarnation of that most unheroic figure of myth. He who gave it his best, enjoyed a brief, but beautiful life in defiance of death, but in the end was punished for the hubris of trying to transcend his own humanity.
As the echoes of Sisyphus, we all possess a rock. Or, as the Buddhists say, the essence of our existence is suffering. When that is all you have, what must be done? Psychologist Viktor Frankl said that if all you have is suffering, do it as beautifully as possible.
At this moment, we all have a sense of our rock, of the suffering of the world, a suffering that seems to have no point. Lawyers I speak to often express an acute sense of the absurdity of law practice; that it seldom has to do with right and wrong, with mending grievances, making a better world or helping those truly in need. They complain that it is more often a peculiarly isolated competitive business, logging billable hours or working alone through monstrous documents or meaningless research related to arcane forms of litigation.
A litigator might win a case, and for a brief moment glimpse the exalted terrain of those who live without care. But within hours, perhaps even at the moment of favorable decision, as the weight of the rock falls away and he experiences the relief of labors' end, he turns to see it rolling down the slope. Then he fills with the dread of knowing that if he will ever again taste the air of the living world, he must go down to the bottom and start over again with a new case -- again and again.
And this is if the decision is favorable. The loser also must return to the base, but with the taste of defeat in his mouth, fully aware that those months, if not years, of labor have gone into a losing proposition. The only correct reply is appeal (another rock), or a new case.
It is all too easy to develop a sense of futility and the absurd in this world of seemingly arbitrary judges, unethical opponents, and dishonest parties and partners. It is not hard to understand why so many lawyers long for retirement.
In one of the stories of Sisyphus, he escaped the Underworld and returned to the land of the living, the very world in which his farmland had to be tended and stock cared for, and where his neighbors connived against him. Yet he found it extraordinarily beautiful.
My query is this: If you were given a death sentence or a fatal prognosis, and told you could no longer live this life -- as imperfect as it may be -- would you not give anything to get it back?
The fatal diagnosis would immediately cast that life of struggle and rolling the rock in a different light, and reveal its meaning. As we know, this is exactly the discovery made by those who have been given a real, fatal diagnosis. They learn that the rocks are our truest and most valuable possession. Sisyphus' rock is the jewel of his existence; without it his life has no meaning.
Consider the fate of those who, for whatever reason, lose their rock. We can all think of people who, for one reason or another, no longer struggle. Typically, they recommit themselves to a "rock" of some kind that has to do with good works for others, or they invent for themselves a rock far more hellish than the one they started with, one that has to do with addiction, loss of meaningful relationships, and ultimately a return to poverty of one kind or another.
What can be learned from Sisyphus and his rock?
We each have a rock that is our daily struggle, and for lawyers it is the complexity and imperfectness of law practice. There is no human free of his rock. Like a Buddhist, we can accept suffering as a given and transform it into something beautiful. And we must each learn to bless our rock, for without it and all of its obvious difficulty, we would only invent another.
James Dolan, M.A., is a professional coach and psychotherapist with 30 years of experience in private practice in the Dallas area. He works with lawyers and physicians to improve business development, communications, internal relations, leadership and client-patient retention. Questions related to these issues can be e-mailed to dolan.james@sbcglobal.net.