Prometheus Bound

Prometheus was the Greek who stole fire from Zeus on Mt. Olympus and brought it down to the humans. Zeus punished him by bounding him to a boulder for an eagle to come and peck out his liver every day. Every day his liver would be eaten in immeasurable pain and every night it would grow back again.

This Greek tragedy is very similar to the myth of Sisyphus, which is the story of a king who was condemned to roll a gigantic boulder up a hill, just to have it fall back down right before he gets to the top.

Prometheus' and Sisyphus' lives are filled with eternal tragedy, pain, and suffering. They lived in worlds that were filled with inevitable injury and meaninglessness. They both embody (whether we like it or not) the type of life man has been born into.

We all attempt Sisyphean tasks in a world filled with Promethean suffering. We try to solve problems that never will be solved. We try to satiate desires that will keep coming back. We attempt to live orderly lives while surrounded with chaos. We build sand castles that will wash away with the changing tides. We constantly try to pick up the pieces of a world that will constantly be breaking. We control what we think we can, even though everything is out of our control. We lie to ourselves in order to find solace in an unforgiving, cold world. We are all ants that think our lives are significant, and think that we can change the course of history. The problem is: we can't.

The only significance in our lives is the individual significance that we give it. Society conditions us to follow the rules, to not step out of line, and to live the life that we are expected to. However, it is only when you break the rules, when you step out of line, and when you march to your own beat that you can truly find happiness. Take time to have your Nietzschean breaking down of false Idols. Forget absolutes, forget certainty, don't fall into the lie that heavenly bliss will follow life. Let it all burn. It is only once everything is ash on the ground that you can actually start to build your own world; build the ideal palace of your desires and dreams.

Break the Promethean bound that life has on us, and be a Dionysian drunk. It is only then that you can really dance and sing (as Nietzsche uses for metaphors of true creation and individuality).

It is almost humanly impossible to do such things. As Sartre says, there is No Exit.

Screw the exit. Punch a hole in the wall and walk out on your own.