Essay:
When Gilgamesh tore down hustle culture
Around two thousand years ago, the very first epic poem explored our fear of death, our neglect of duty, and the proper meaning of life.
Two thousand years later, that same poem- the Epic of Gilgamesh -takes a swing at the bizarre trends of the productivity sphere, as if the Sumerian copper merchants personally got mad at the flood of hustle-porn and lying influencers on their clay tablet feeds.
But first, some backstory.
King Gilgamesh, “tall, magnificent, and terrible,” ruled over the city-state of Uruk in its finest days. The walls were proud, the rival city of Kish was quietened, and the gods were well-fed at their altars. Life was good. Life was glorious.
You can imagine the king cast his eyes over the city in satisfaction; the fruit of his labour was now peacefully resting in the golden sunlight, nestled by a blanket of warm sands and inundated with the smells of hot myrrh, earthy mudbricks, and freshly-baked bread. If Gilgamesh slumped into his throne and fell asleep for one last time, he could do so without regret.
But what king, entrepreneur, or conqueror is ever satisfied?
In business, there’s no such phrase as “That’s enough.” In the world of conquerors, there’s a (fictional) saying that reads how “King Alexander looked up at the moon and wept, for he knew he could not conquer it.”
Gilgamesh danced with the same temptation.
Once he befriended the wild man Enkidu, a rival in strength, Gilgamesh abandoned his kingly post and the pair set out on a quest for fame and renown. However, even after their blazing success in defeating the forest guardian named Humbaba, Enkidu falls sick and dies, which terrifies Gilgamesh and places a mirror up to his own mortality.
My friend, whom I love so dear, who with me went through every danger, my friend Enkidu, whom I love so dear, who went with me through every danger:
the doom of mortals overtook him. Six days I wept for him and seven nights. I did not surrender his body for burial, until a maggot dropped from his nostril.
For his friend Enkidu Gilgamesh did bitterly weep as he wandered the wild: ‘I shall die, and shall I not then be as Enkidu? Sorrow has entered my heart!'
‘I am afraid of death, so I wander the wild, to find Uta-Napishti, son of Ubar-Tutu.'
And so marked the real beginning of the epic. Gilgamesh sets off to find Uta-Napishti and the secret to eternal life. On his journey, the king abandons his humanity and devolves into a beastly form of himself, running through the wild, killing lions, and drinking water from the ground.
The pursuit of more life made him abandon the life he already has.
Even though Gilgamesh was warned of the futility in his effort, he pressed on. The first caution comes from the god Shamash, who is startled to see the king in such a hopeless position:
‘O Gilgamesh, where are you wandering? The life that you seek you will never find.’
Later on, Uta-Napishti, the very man Gilgamesh sought out in the first place, responds to his false hope with a final, brutal scolding:
‘But you, you toiled away, and what did you achieve? You exhaust yourself with ceaseless toil. You fill your sinews with sorrow, bringing forward the end of your days.'
‘Man is snapped off like a reed in a canebrake! The comely young man, the pretty young woman– all too soon in their prime Death abducts them!'
‘No one at all sees Death, no one at all sees the face of Death, no one at all hears the voice of Death, Death so savage, who hacks men down.'
Once a proud and noble king, Gilgamesh became a desperate wretch obsessed with more. He ran away from his wealth, accomplishment, and peace, with the false promise that there was more on the other side—perhaps then, and only then, could he truly enjoy life.
Hustle culture sells you that same lie. You need more to be happy. You need to work harder, to stack capital, to buy more, to achieve more, and only then can you rest your foot off the pedal and start to delight in life's pleasures.
"I’ll enjoy life when I get rich." Why not enjoy it regardless? If you can’t appreciate a weekend trip, a sunny day, or a warm cappuccino right now, what changes when your wallet is a million dollars heavier and you have an extra title on your résumé?
"I'll enjoy life when I have more time." When will that be? When you have the weight of fourteen assignments to crush your back? When you have kids crying your name every few minutes? When your bones are worn and creaky? One hour in the present is worth more than one hour in the future because it has greater potential, so spend them freely while you can. As writer Aldo Leopold might say, 'we should not relegate our happiness to heaven, for one may never get there.'
Don't get it wrong though—ambition is beautiful; beware of the contrarian who kicks down hard work and buries the aspiration in others, but nonetheless, we can’t let it become an ever-hungry beast which obsesses over the next milestone before the high of the first has passed.
After his failure to find immortality, a more mature Gilgamesh returns to Uruk. He cleans the grime from his skin, dons the royal robes, and finds solace in the mightiness of his city's walls. This was his present and his peace. Like King Gilgamesh, we tend to see the pointlessness in our hustle-struggle only after we are neck-deep into it, as we trade our social life and happiness for the faint promise of something extra.
Only once we replace the rotten hustle with healthy ambition can we finally live for life itself, unburdened by the pressure to chase a mirage that the internet made you worship.
Yours,
Odysseas
P.S.
The next video will be a bit of a wildcard. It's about how you can get the most out of museums and galleries, free from the usual boredom, fatigue, and time constraints we usually have to deal with.
Maybe I'm coping here, but I feel like we're expected to enjoy galleries just because. It's a given. If you enjoy them: congrats, you're cultured. If you don't see the hype, you must lack some ArTistiC DePth to your character. That's nonsense.
Back in the day, I struggled. I wanted to enjoy these collections, but I found myself bored or lost within the hour. Years later, I now see it's not just a question of curiosity (or inbuilt snobbery), but a skill in itself; enjoying art is almost an art in itself, and even beyond the abstract side of it, there's plenty of raw practical tips to make sure your experience is fun, focused, and fulfilling in the wider picture.
Should be out within the next week!