As we write, elusive words fill the page or screen the way relics fill museums behind us and hopes fill dreams in front of us. Stories are never finished, but time imposes conclusions in the way death imposes endings. So we begin writing again, maelstroms of emotions facing the emptiness once more—determined to roll out words the way Sisyphus rolled his stone up the mountain only to have gravity inevitably bring it back to the bottom. In The Myth of Sisyphus, Albert Camus concluded, “I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain. One always finds one’s burden again…. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”
Even when we’re something less than happy and terribly reluctant to let go, with endings come new beginnings. Only when the stone had been rolled from the entrance of Christ’s tomb was the most glorious triumph revealed. We may follow a repetitious process just as Sisyphus trod the identical path, but without rolling the stone we have no idea what we might discover—never knowing if the next ending leads to something greater than we’d ever dared imagine.
Photo was taken at C21 in Bentonville, AR. The artist’s name is Serkan Özkaya. The piece is titled “A Sudden Gust of Wind.” It consists of metallic sheets and monofilament.