It’s the anti-Sisyphus. In the old Greek myth, the condemned man must push a boulder uphill for eternity, only to watch it roll back down just as he reaches the summit. For Indiana Jones, it’s the opposite: a man runs for his life from a giant ball of rock.

In both stories, gravity itself, not the boulder, is the real antagonist. Both heroes—one pushing, one running—are doing something seemingly impossible, fighting against the fundamental directionality of the universe. And even more cruelly, their respective catastrophes seem impersonal, because gravity is indifferent to their struggle. It’s just physics doing what physics does.

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Perhaps that’s why these stories resonate so deeply, why we still commonly use the word “Sisyphean” to describe tasks like finishing laundry or reading email. Perhaps that’s why an 18-second clip from a 1980s action/adventure movie has entered our visual lexicon, becoming an essential piece of cinematic grammar. We all know the feeling of being overwhelmed by forces beyond our control, of wondering why is this happening to me? When the unreasonable, yet implacable, answer may be: no reason. Life is just hard sometimes.

But—is that the reason? If we were ready to believe that life is just hard and there’s no meaning, we wouldn’t continue to tell heroes’ stories about their grit and their refusal to give into inertia. Their unshakable belief in their quest, even when it feels like the universe is indifferent or hostile. We borrow their faith, telling ourselves: never give up.

This post is part of The American 250, a series featuring 250 objects made by Americans, located in America, in honor of the country's 250th anniversary. 250 words on 250 works, from January 1 to December 31, 2026.

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