"When I was young and knew nothing, a tree was simply a tree, a mountain simply a mountain, and a lake simply a lake.
When I had studied and learned some, a tree was much more than a tree, a mountain much more than a mountain, and a lake much more than a lake.
When I became enlightened, a tree was once again just a tree, a mountain just a mountain, and a lake just a lake."
This Zen Buddhist paradox may simplify the phenomenon of existence to the point of imbecility--but it also governs the life of Meursault, the main character of Albert Camus' The Stranger. Meursault is a paradox himself, a paradox living a paradoxical life, and one who is cognizant of the absurdity of it all. He has "recognized the ridiculous character of that habit, the absence of any profound reason for living, the insane character of that daily agitation, and the uselessness of suffering"; those around him have not. His recognition of this truth is what makes Meursault a "slightly disgusting" (p65) "Monsieur Antichrist" (p71) and a super-evolved being. It is what leads to his demise.
Most people are at the second stage of consciousness. Having "studied and learned some", we suffer under the all-encompassing Delusion of the phrase "greater ______ (insert "meaning", "purpose", "significance", or other synonym)". This misconception has persuaded humankind to even more foolish delusions, to the myths and legends of defunct civilizations, to the religions of gods and God, and finally, to the self-perpetuating sciences of today. All invest more and search for more when there is nothing but.
We begin at the beginning:
"Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don't know. I got a telegram from the home: "Mother deceased. Funeral tomorrow. Faithfully yours." That doesn't mean anything. Maybe it was yesterday." (p3)
Before the first chapter is finished, we try to absolve Meursault of his manifest transgression. We pontificate and postulate about the loss of a loved one, the relationship between mother and son, and the "significance" of denial--all in wonderfully psychoanalytical terms. When we inevitably come to grips with the reality that Meursault is not in a state of denial and that he displays no overpowering emotion simply because he experiences no overpowering emotion concerning the fact that "Maman died today" (p3), frustration and indignation surface. His lack of "normal" feeling is outrageous to us. Our condemnation begins with exclamations to "take note of the fact" (p91) that Meursault has smoked a cigarette by the bedside of his dead mother, that he had not cried, that "the day after his mother's death, this man was out swimming, starting up a dubious liaison, and going to the movies, a comedy, for laughs" (p94). Really, it is all very shocking. What a distressing perversion of noble humanity! (Because in saying so, we deny the futility of our own trifling existences.)
Meursault is a detached and indifferent observer. His marriage to Marie "didn't really matter" and "besides, she was the one who was doing the asking" (p41). An advancement of his so-called career was "all the same" (p41) to him. It is not for the murder of another human being that Meursault is damned. The dead Arab, to put it in Meursault's words, doesn't mean anything. Meursault has put love and inviolable life and our beloved Delusion to death. Frankly, he has "knocked four quick times" on our "door of unhappiness" (p59). And what is most mortifying is that Meursault does it with his mere disregard, it is with no premeditated attack that he topples our cherished beliefs; he is no frenzied iconoclast. And so, we put him on trial. We become the prosecutor prior to any criminally indictable crime. We "have nothing further to say."
"When I was a student, I had lots of ambitions like that. But when I had to give up my studies I learned very quickly that none of it really mattered." (p41)
Meursault is at the "enlightened" stage. Perhaps it can even be said that he has transcended "enlightenment", because to him, a tree is much less than a tree, a mountain much less than a mountain, and a lake much less than a lake.
