ABSTRACT
In high school, I wrote my senior thesis on Albert Camus, an audacious choice for a seventeen-year-old, but one I eagerly embraced. “One must imagine Sisyphus happy,” wrote Camus, because he continues to struggle to achieve new heights (1955, p. 123). is is what “fills one’s heart,” a human being deciding to rise above the absurd struggles of life by accepting rather than denying his plight (p. 123). Sisyphus understands the absurdity of his situation, yet still expresses an intense passion for life, which makes it possible to imagine him happy. He recognizes that the only real thing is human experience. For Camus (1955), the real is what one can feel in his heart or touch in the world and, thus, there is no truth beyond experience. It is what we create ourselves, what we experience and do, that gives meaning to our lives.
