Steve Braunias on the return to work
The myth of Sisyphus is a story that never ends. It never goes anywhere, it never changes; it's the same old, same old; its cruelty and horror never varies. The gods punished Sisyphus by making him roll an immense boulder up a hill only for it to roll down every time it reached the top, and to repeat his meaningless task for all eternity.
Yes, happy new year! It's a story everyone can relate to as we step out of the bright light of summer into the dimness and meanness of work. Back to the grind. Back to the futile pursuit. Back, too, in my case, to the creek around the corner from my estate.
The myth of Sisyphus is a metaphor for hopeless endeavour. Once every so often I step into the mangrovial wonderlands of my nearby creek to pick up rubbish. I've been doing this small service for the past 10 years and performed it again the other day, filling two rubbish bags and hauling out five chairs from the mud. There was a TV stuck beneath a fallen tree. But more rubbish will accumulate, more TVs and chairs will be dumped; when the boulder rolls down to the bottom of the hill, it sinks into the mud. Poor old Sisyphus bends at the knees and the waist.
The myth of Sisyphus is a lesson in remaining steadfast and true. I take out the rubbish and place it into or beside a bin at a field above the mangrove creek. The council comes and takes it away. That's good. That's something. Our pointless and interminable activities at work are Sisyphean, but we can take some pride, some satisfaction; honest labour is its own reward. Homer witnessed Sisyphus, and described him in The Odyssey: "The sweat poured from his limbs and the dust rose high above his head."