The question of the meaning of life is often linked to the prevailing impression of the futility of our existence. Surveys in several Western countries tend to confirm that many of our contemporaries are subject to questioning as old as philosophy. Why bother? Okay? More consumption increases, increasing leisure time, more "us" seems obvious uselessness.
" Vanity of vanities, all is vanity, we read in the Bible (Ecclesiastes)" There is nothing new under the sun ... so I think of all the works of my hands and all the trouble j 'had taken ... well all is vanity and vexation of spirit, there is no profit under the sun. . This feeling
of uselessness is perfectly expressed in theater of the absurd and especially that of Ionesco. In the Chairs, we see an old couple locked in memory, magnified, delirious, mischievous of his past and attempts to resuscitate him. They give a reception to which nobody comes, welcome invisible guests, placing them, bumping them, and soon the stage is covered with empty chairs: through their aberration is the sad reality of life that they evoke, bright evenings, social gatherings, entertainment sought at all costs (consumption at all costs might add).
Everything finally seems to them absurd, and when they jump out the window, because they lost all meaning in life, they discover she has ever had.
Devil! Is this winter and coldness that inspire me. ?
Fortunately, there is art, poetry, good books, and writing.
And if life were a book which turns the paper every day? In the morning, you would write down the page even these simple white worms Verlaine
The sky above the roof So blue
, so quiet!
A tree, above the roof,
Waves its crown.
... ... ... ....
... ... ... ....
My God, my God, life is there
Simple and quiet.
. And above this signature, you would leave written lines of your day with their full and loose, their complaints and smiles. And take away your consent to this day his poison of bitterness and worthlessness.
" Vanity of vanities, all is vanity, we read in the Bible (Ecclesiastes)" There is nothing new under the sun ... so I think of all the works of my hands and all the trouble j 'had taken ... well all is vanity and vexation of spirit, there is no profit under the sun. . This feeling
of uselessness is perfectly expressed in theater of the absurd and especially that of Ionesco. In the Chairs, we see an old couple locked in memory, magnified, delirious, mischievous of his past and attempts to resuscitate him. They give a reception to which nobody comes, welcome invisible guests, placing them, bumping them, and soon the stage is covered with empty chairs: through their aberration is the sad reality of life that they evoke, bright evenings, social gatherings, entertainment sought at all costs (consumption at all costs might add).
Everything finally seems to them absurd, and when they jump out the window, because they lost all meaning in life, they discover she has ever had.
Devil! Is this winter and coldness that inspire me. ?
Fortunately, there is art, poetry, good books, and writing.
And if life were a book which turns the paper every day? In the morning, you would write down the page even these simple white worms Verlaine
The sky above the roof So blue
, so quiet!
A tree, above the roof,
Waves its crown.
... ... ... ....
... ... ... ....
My God, my God, life is there
Simple and quiet.
. And above this signature, you would leave written lines of your day with their full and loose, their complaints and smiles. And take away your consent to this day his poison of bitterness and worthlessness.
