Rebellion Against the Mundane
“To rise or not to rise?”—this, perhaps, is the ultimate existential question we face each morning. We are conditioned, bound by society’s unyielding expectations, to greet the dawn with enthusiasm, to conquer the day, and to live as though each moment is a battleground. Yet, in the stillness of the early hours, a provocative thought lingers: What if we did not wake up? What if we chose, instead, to let the world go on without us, to remain nestled in the cocoon of sleep, untouched by the demands of reality? Could there be merit in such a decision?
Shakespeare, ever the master of human contradiction, once penned the words, “The time is out of joint; O cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right!” And so, in a world that seems irrevocably out of joint, why not defy the very compulsion to wake up? Perhaps it is within our power to reject the chaotic race of existence, to question the value of participating in the relentless cycle of waking, living, and sleeping again. Is there truly any profound meaning in it all, or is it merely the ceaseless ticking of a clock that binds us to an endless, often senseless, routine?
Why wake up? Perhaps it is better to ask: What is gained by waking up? In the grand sweep of time, what does a single day matter? Shakespeare, in Macbeth, lamented, “Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.” Life, like a candle in the wind, flickers and fades. Why add more hours to it, when in truth, those hours are fraught with the same disquiet, the same uncertainties? Each day we rise, we meet new struggles, new disappointments, and the same shallow pursuit of fleeting joys. The agony of existence persists, no matter how much we attempt to fill our days with meaning. Would it not be easier, simpler, and perhaps more peaceful to remain untouched by it all, to let the dream continue unbroken?
In a world so filled with noise, distractions, and ceaseless activity, is waking up merely a submission to the mundane? The poet Emily Dickinson once wrote, “Life is over there—/ There—where it is not.” If life, indeed, lies in the intangible, the unmanifested, in the realm of dreams, why do we feel the need to tear ourselves from this sanctuary each morning? Sleep, that gentle reprieve from the harshness of reality, offers us the sweet release from the noise of the world, a world that demands our attention, our energy, and our conformity. Why, then, awaken? Why throw ourselves into the fray of existence when sleep holds the promise of peace, of respite from the complexities of life?
Furthermore, waking up seems to lock us into a narrative we did not necessarily choose—a script written by others, by the expectations of society, family, and career. The great philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, a thinker of profound existentialism, argued that human beings are condemned to be free, thrust into existence without a clear guide. The very act of waking up forces us into the web of this freedom, where we are expected to choose, to make decisions, to shape a life from raw possibility. But what if we choose not to wake up? What if, instead, we opt for the freedom of non-existence, the solace of not having to navigate a world full of choices, risks, and consequences?
There is, perhaps, a certain tranquility in sleep that we ignore in our relentless pursuit of productivity. The Greek philosopher Epicurus once said, “Death is nothing to us, for when we exist, death is not, and when death exists, we are not.” In the same vein, waking up, too, may be a needless act. Perhaps, in sleep, we are free from the anxiety of existence, unburdened by the weight of our responsibilities, and unshackled by the expectations that bind us to a never-ending cycle of striving. To wake up is to once again submit ourselves to the grind of the world—a world that may, in the end, offer no more lasting value than the dreams we leave behind in the quiet of the night.
But what if, in not waking, we find ourselves closer to the truth of existence? What if, in sleep, we touch upon the eternal, the unspoken realms of our subconscious, where we are free to wander without direction, without purpose, but also without the constraints of time? In that sense, perhaps waking up is not a triumph, but a surrender to the tyranny of the clock, the ticking reminder that our time is running out. The poet Rainer Maria Rilke once wrote, “The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.” In this, there is an invitation to surrender to the great unknown, to embrace the mysteries of existence rather than fight against them. So, perhaps, in sleep, we are not defeated but liberated—free from the battle of life itself.
To wake up, then, may not be the universal imperative we’ve been led to believe. It is but a choice—a choice to engage with the complexities and struggles of the world. In remaining asleep, we may be choosing a different path, one that bypasses the pain, the strife, and the disillusionment that often accompany the waking world. If life is fleeting, as Shakespeare so eloquently expressed, why not choose to sleep through it, untouched by its burdens? In doing so, we might find a quiet wisdom in the embrace of the dream, a wisdom that is unavailable in the noise of the waking world.
So, let us ponder: What if waking up is not an inevitability, but a decision? What if, in choosing not to rise, we are making the most profound choice of all—the choice to live in peace, free from the trials of the waking world, and instead, to remain forever in the embrace of the dream? After all, as Shakespeare so wisely said, “We are such stuff as dreams are made on,” and perhaps, in our sleep, we find our truest form.
By: Tanaya Gupta
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