Tag: Albert Camus

La Peste

Hamar WilliamsLeave a comment

There are times when certain books need to be revisited. With current events, even though they seem to be drawing to a close, it might be worth pointing people in the direction of Albert Camus’ The Plague. It’s probably quite obvious why it’s a suitable book. Set in Oran in Camus’ native Algeria, he tells of the story of a city in quarantine trying to deal with the ravages of a plague working it’s way through the populace. The protagonist is a doctor trying to find answers in scientific explanations while the ruling classes prefer to prevaricate, cover up and live on false hope. Painfully relevant to contemporary events in our own Oran as an island cut off. Having been written in the years immediately after the Second World War, the plague was also supposed to represent the Nazi occupation, one Camus experienced first hand working as a publisher in the French Resistance. Apparently in Britain alone, sales of the ebook have risen by three thousand percent which is quite remarkable.

There was an article in The Sunday Times a few weeks ago that was a translation of a letter Camus wrote to doctors during the early years of the war. In it he offers advice to doctors in how best to deal with plagues. I assume there must have been a lot of plagues back then, unless this was also a reference to Nazi occupation. It is in many ways a precursor to his book. He gives some advice on how best to avoid exposure, the importance of wine “to lessen the dismay that will engulf you” and probably most importantly of all to “never get used to seeing people die”. Sometimes it’s easy to not notice the new normal slowly ebbing it’s way into taking over our existence and once death becomes normalised, life will lose some of the value it once held. In times of plagues, pandemics and political occupations it is always vital to remember what is not normal. If that does become the case, well wine will always help.

“The fact remains that none of this is easy. Despite your masks and sachets, the vinegar and the protective clothing, despite the calmness of your courage and tireless effort, the day will come when you can no longer bear this city of dying people…their cries, their terror that knows no future. The day will come when you will want to shout out your disgust in the face of everyone’s pain and fear. When that day comes, there will no longer be any solution I can offer, other than compassion, which is the sister of ignorance”

To Stroll For Strolling's Sake

Hamar WilliamsLeave a comment

I read an article this morning about walking. It was reasonably interesting and revolved around some of the greatest minds of the past two hundred years being avid walkers. Henry David Thoreau, William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Walt Whitman, Friedrich Nietzsche, Virginia Woolf, Arthur Rimbaud and Mahatma Gandhi apparently all loved a good walk and it wasn’t suggested that their achievements were down to their ability to walk but did suggest there was a link between their understanding of being able to put down the pen and getting the blood flowing with a stroll. This is by no means a new revelation, anyone who has sat in front of a screen or studied for too long has felt heavy, groggy and the necessity of movement to make them feel alive again. The point the article attempted to make was that in this day and age in which there needs to be a purpose behind everything we do; we have simply forgotten the art of simply existing. There is something cleansing about simply being in a moment of purposeless purpose that we cannot get when we’re walking from A to B to either count the steps it’s taken us to get there or because any other method of movement is not possible. The relation to Sisyphus in our effort to get to B before discovering we almost immediately need to get on to C and then D afterwards.

However it does neglect to mention that these great minds most likely understood the benefit of taking time for a stroll for their minds and the furthering of ideas they had perhaps started to stagnate on. To imagine while walking they weren’t thinking through various angles to problems is to misunderstand the mind. In that case it is quite easy to suggest they were never strolling for the sake of it existence in that moment because there was a purpose behind it, even if that was just to clear their mind there was purpose. We may live in an age were everything needs a purpose that can be monetised, and while that is soon to be found out as flawed over the next few months, that doesn’t mean people simply existed previously. Perhaps we just don’t know how to relate to the workings of their alien thought process and minds.

Saying all of that though it is entirely acceptable to suggest we could do with a little more strolling in life. To experience life for the sake of mere existence. How that can relate to people being stuck inside their homes in quarantine I’m unsure but I suspect there may just be a new age of appreciation for the simple art of walking as people find satisfaction once more in the stroll. Any excuse for getting out of the house and absorbing a bit of vitamin D. Don’t forget the two metres of course.

Death’s Eternal March

Hamar WilliamsLeave a comment

I was thinking today about death. It is one of those things I find myself contemplating. I have heard it said that we start reflecting on death more often when our own is drawing in but I doubt the validity of that on numerous levels, especially because it would suggest everything is already written and I’m not quite willing to accept that yet. I don’t worry about death, the idea of it coming for me is not necessarily something to fear. Of course the manner of ones death needs to be taken into consideration and despite the bravado; when death feels a long way away, we never know how we will react, if we have the time to react. In regards my own, I worry more about how it would affect others, I can imagine it would destroy my parents for example. Equally my only fear of death is that of my family and the reality that I will one day have to deal with that terrifies me. To know my dog, who is five now, has perhaps ten years to live is also a scary realisation.

It is this knowledge that the life of other’s is finite that helps me to understand the whole phenomena in a way that my own potential death doesn’t. I have already experienced the death of my grandparents, as well as the trauma of losing my childhood dog, but parents are another issue and I’ve invested such an emotional bond with my dog now that I don’t know how I would deal with the loss of her either. It is scary. It also makes you realise how temporary everything is. We’re all going to die one day. That is the only certainly in life we face and it’s the one thing that can give our own lives a true sense of value.

If you’ve ever been back somewhere that you had an intense and memorable experience; let’s say a place you worked, lived or travelled through, if this has happened a few times you start to notice the only commonality is that it’s not the place you remembered anymore. The faces are different, the energy has changed and it is not the same place, other people are now experiencing their own version, as will others after them. We can’t long for the return of moments from our past because they don’t exist anymore. Just like events in time, life is transient, it is an event, it is impermanent.

Your grandparents were your age once, they experienced what you experienced, they felt the same intense emotions and sensations and now it’s you turn and soon it’ll be someone else’s. It is undeniable that there is a deep sadness to this but there shouldn’t be and this is what I am trying to get beyond because supposedly it is beautiful too. Of course understanding how temporary life is allows you to enjoy it and embrace what comes, it helps us lead a full life. The knowledge of the inevitable though makes it feel pointless, if we’re going to die one day then what is the point. The nihilists recognised this, Camus did too and called it absurdism.

Like deaths sadness when felt deep down though, this feeling of pointlessness is surely something to be overcome. The ever present knowledge of death may be what makes the human condition but so does our innate ability to overcome adversity. While death is one thing we cannot overcome, the feeling of life’s intrinsic pointlessness is one we can. Death need not be sad, we can understand this end point, it’s getting there that seems the impossible part. Let’s just hope we have the time to do so but really does it matter one way or another if we don’t.