Self-analysis. Camus.
I thought I'd do a bit of self-analysis. This has just been on my mind.
There are two sides to me. The first is the existentialist, searching for some deep meaning in life that doesn't exist. Because life is so meaningless, this side of me is very apathetic. Back when I created the Red Book, somebody asked why I even needed a reminder of why I should be a communist. The existentialist within is the answer.
In response to the existentialist, the other side of me is the fervent socialist/communist. I think I'd prefer to call myself a socialist to distance myself from Marx, Lenin and Stalin. Anyway, this side of me responds that yeah, maybe there is no point to life, but it exists anyway. Suffering exists. And while it exists, it's unfair to be apathetic; it should be every person's duty to reduce that suffering. In this way, I suppose I give meaning to life: the ease of suffering. Even though I haven't done anything noble or altruistic on a grand scale, so it feels a lot like I'm talking the talk but not walking the walk... I aim to correct that at Uni.
There you have my two polar opposites as I see them. I'm biased of course, being myself, so who knows how accurate this is. Who cares really?
Talking of existentialism, I've finished Jean de Florette by Pagnol, which was quite depressing, so I'm starting up Le Mythe de Sisyphe by Camus again. I really love this guy. Here are some of my favourite quotes thus far, in French for those lucky enough to understand it, and with my shoddy translations beneath for those who speak only English.
Il arrive que les décors s'écroulent. Lever, tramway, quatre heures de bureau ou d'usine, repas, tramway, quatre heures de travail, repas, sommeil et lundi mardi mercredi jeudi vendredi et samedi sur le même rythme, cette route se suit aisément la plupart du temps. Un jour seulement, le « pourquoi » s'élève et tout commence dans cette lassitude teintée d'étonnement.
One day, the settings collapse. Wake up, tram, four hours of the office or the factory, meal, tram, four hours of work, meal, sleep, and Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday to the same rhythm; most of the time we follow this route with ease. Yet one day, the question "why?" awakens and everything begins to be seen with weariness tinted with astonishment.
Dans certaines heures de lucidité, l'aspect mécanique de [les] gestes [des hommes], leur pantomine privée de sens rend stupide tout ce qui les entoure.
In certain hours of lucidity, the mechanical aspect of [men's] gestures, their pantomimes lacking sense render everything surrounding them foolish.
Si... nous affirmons... la réalité de l'Un (quel qu'il soit), nous tombons dans la ridicule contradiction d'un esprit qui affirme l'unité totale et prouve par son affirmation même sa propre différence et la diversité qu'il prétendait résoudre.
If we affirm the reality of the One (whatever it is), we fall into the ridiculous contradiction of a being who affirms the total unity and proves by this same affirmation his own difference and the diversity which he claimed to resolve.
That's a bit of a complex one. What Camus is saying is that God provides meaning to life, He gives it reason by uniting all the irrational things we see. However, in doing this, he also proves his own separation from the Unity of the world, because he's outside it. The meaning and unity God gives to the world cannot be applied to Himself so this results in the same problem of a non-united, diverse universe without meaning.
I love Camus. So much of this book goes over my head, either because it's in complex French or because I don't understand the philosophical arguments (he spends quite some time attacking other philosophers whose works I haven't read), but what I understand really speaks to me.
There are two sides to me. The first is the existentialist, searching for some deep meaning in life that doesn't exist. Because life is so meaningless, this side of me is very apathetic. Back when I created the Red Book, somebody asked why I even needed a reminder of why I should be a communist. The existentialist within is the answer.
In response to the existentialist, the other side of me is the fervent socialist/communist. I think I'd prefer to call myself a socialist to distance myself from Marx, Lenin and Stalin. Anyway, this side of me responds that yeah, maybe there is no point to life, but it exists anyway. Suffering exists. And while it exists, it's unfair to be apathetic; it should be every person's duty to reduce that suffering. In this way, I suppose I give meaning to life: the ease of suffering. Even though I haven't done anything noble or altruistic on a grand scale, so it feels a lot like I'm talking the talk but not walking the walk... I aim to correct that at Uni.
There you have my two polar opposites as I see them. I'm biased of course, being myself, so who knows how accurate this is. Who cares really?
Talking of existentialism, I've finished Jean de Florette by Pagnol, which was quite depressing, so I'm starting up Le Mythe de Sisyphe by Camus again. I really love this guy. Here are some of my favourite quotes thus far, in French for those lucky enough to understand it, and with my shoddy translations beneath for those who speak only English.
Il arrive que les décors s'écroulent. Lever, tramway, quatre heures de bureau ou d'usine, repas, tramway, quatre heures de travail, repas, sommeil et lundi mardi mercredi jeudi vendredi et samedi sur le même rythme, cette route se suit aisément la plupart du temps. Un jour seulement, le « pourquoi » s'élève et tout commence dans cette lassitude teintée d'étonnement.
One day, the settings collapse. Wake up, tram, four hours of the office or the factory, meal, tram, four hours of work, meal, sleep, and Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday to the same rhythm; most of the time we follow this route with ease. Yet one day, the question "why?" awakens and everything begins to be seen with weariness tinted with astonishment.
Dans certaines heures de lucidité, l'aspect mécanique de [les] gestes [des hommes], leur pantomine privée de sens rend stupide tout ce qui les entoure.
In certain hours of lucidity, the mechanical aspect of [men's] gestures, their pantomimes lacking sense render everything surrounding them foolish.
Si... nous affirmons... la réalité de l'Un (quel qu'il soit), nous tombons dans la ridicule contradiction d'un esprit qui affirme l'unité totale et prouve par son affirmation même sa propre différence et la diversité qu'il prétendait résoudre.
If we affirm the reality of the One (whatever it is), we fall into the ridiculous contradiction of a being who affirms the total unity and proves by this same affirmation his own difference and the diversity which he claimed to resolve.
That's a bit of a complex one. What Camus is saying is that God provides meaning to life, He gives it reason by uniting all the irrational things we see. However, in doing this, he also proves his own separation from the Unity of the world, because he's outside it. The meaning and unity God gives to the world cannot be applied to Himself so this results in the same problem of a non-united, diverse universe without meaning.
I love Camus. So much of this book goes over my head, either because it's in complex French or because I don't understand the philosophical arguments (he spends quite some time attacking other philosophers whose works I haven't read), but what I understand really speaks to me.