If you are currently going through a certain stage of life, unable to find any sense of meaning, feeling that the daily repetition is so empty and boring, then perhaps you can try to learn about Camus and his philosophy. He once said that car accidents are the stupidest way to die, but in the third year after winning the Nobel Prize, he was taken away by a meaningless car crash. At that time, he was only 47 years old. A philosopher who spent his life contemplating absurdity, yet died in a senseless accident. This in itself is filled with absurdity. Today, I want to talk about Camus, and about what he spent his life exploring—how to survive in a world without meaning. Many people know that Camus was a Nobel laureate in Literature, winning at age 44, making him one of the youngest winners in history. But few know that he was born in a slum in Algeria, and before he was one year old, his father was killed in World War I. His mother was deaf, and supported her two children by working as a maid and cleaner. Such a life can be said to have started with the sky falling. And Camus’s life is like a footnote to his philosophy. A person who rose from the slums to the Nobel podium, and then died at 47 in a meaningless car accident—that is exactly what he called absurdity. What is absurdity? Have you ever had a moment like this: after a whole day of being busy, suddenly stopping, not knowing what you are busy with. Or sometimes looking at yourself in the mirror, suddenly feeling that this person is so unfamiliar, not knowing what life is for. This feeling is the sense of absurdity. Camus defined absurdity as: humans instinctively seek meaning, but the world is essentially silent, chaotic, and meaningless. The conflict between these two is what he called absurdity. In other words, absurdity is not a problem of the world, nor a problem of humans, but a conflict between humans and the world. This creature, human beings, are born wanting to find meaning. We ask why we are alive, pursue life goals, hope the world makes sense. But the reality is, the universe simply doesn’t care about your questions; it is silent, indifferent, and gives no answers. The tearing between human demands and the silence of the universe is the source of absurdity. Camus described a very typical scene: a person gets up day after day, takes the bus, works for four hours, eats, works another four hours, sleeps, and repeats. Suddenly one day, in a crack of this mechanical routine, a thought jumps out: why? Once this question appears, it becomes very hard to pretend everything is normal again. Camus once wrote a book called "The Myth of Sisyphus," using a story from Greek mythology. Sisyphus was punished by the gods to push a huge boulder up a mountain every day, only for it to roll down again, endlessly. Logically, this is a hellish punishment. But Camus said we should imagine Sisyphus as happy. The key lies in Sisyphus’s consciousness—he is fully aware that his situation is absurd, knowing that pushing the stone will never have an end. But he does not collapse, does not give up, and chooses to keep pushing. This clear-headed choice is a form of rebellion. Every time the stone rolls down the mountain, and Sisyphus walks back down alone, in that moment, he is free. He knows he is about to start again, but this knowledge itself elevates him beyond punishment. In other words, when you no longer expect the outside world to give you meaning, and accept the absurdity of fate, you gain a strange kind of freedom. This choice itself is rebellion, it is dignity. Many people in this era easily fall into a sense of nihilism. Work seems meaningless, relationships seem meaningless, the future seems hopeless, and everything they do now feels purposeless. Then they either lie flat, or become anxious, or alternate between the two. But Camus’s philosophy is not telling you that the world actually has meaning, nor that you should find a grand goal. His answer is simpler: admit that there is no meaning, and then keep going. You don’t need to believe everything has meaning to live well; you just need to continue acting under the premise of meaninglessness. And this very choice creates meaning. Camus’s most famous novel is "The Stranger," whose opening line is: "Today, mother died." Maybe yesterday, I don’t know. This sentence shocked the entire French literary world at the time. A person who doesn’t even know when his mother died, and says it so calmly—what kind of person is that? The protagonist of the novel is named Meursault. He didn’t cry at his mother’s funeral because he truly couldn’t. Later, he killed a man, and in court, people weren’t concerned with the details of the murder, but with why he didn’t cry at his mother’s funeral. The prosecutor wanted to use this detail to prove he was a cold-blooded monster. Meursault didn’t not love his mother; he simply couldn’t express his feelings in a conventional way. He lives in his sensory world—sunlight, seawater, physical exhaustion—these are what feel real. Before his death, a priest comes to persuade him to repent and turn to God. Meursault erupts, saying he is more certain of himself than the priest, and he doesn’t need illusions of comfort. In his final moments, Meursault feels a sense of peace. He opens his heart to the summer night air, feeling happy. In 1960, Camus died in a car accident, with an unused train ticket in his car. He had planned to take the train back to Paris but changed his mind and rode with a friend. In his bag, there was also an unfinished manuscript of a novel. A person who spent his whole life contemplating absurdity, dying in the most absurd accident—you can’t help but feel it’s like a joke played by fate. But from another perspective, it just confirms Camus’s philosophy. He never said that rebellion can defeat fate; he said that continuing to rebel even when you know you will lose. Camus knew that humans will eventually die, but he still wrote. Just like Sisyphus pushing the stone up the mountain every day, only for it to roll down again, and him to push again. This process has no end, no reward, but when you give up the obsession with meaning, and accept the absurdity of the world, you ultimately find a certain freedom.