Sisyphus and the Shadow: A Jungian Perspective on Meaning in Repetition

By Nakita Jangra: Psychotherapist

Introduction: The Rock We All Roll

The myth of Sisyphus is one of the most haunting images in Western consciousness: a man condemned by the gods to push a boulder up a mountain, only for it to roll back down each time he nears the summit—for eternity. On the surface, it’s a tale of futility. But when we view Sisyphus through a Jungian lens, something deeper emerges: a symbolic portrait of the ego’s struggle with the unconscious, and the potential for transformation through suffering.

Most clients don’t show up to therapy because life is easy. They come because they feel stuck—pushing the same “boulder” up the same hill, again and again. Whether it’s a pattern in relationships, a recurring inner critic, or a battle with addiction, the Sisyphean struggle resonates deeply.

Sisyphus and the Ego-Self Axis

In Jungian terms, Sisyphus is the ego caught in a loop—divorced from the Self, trying to control what cannot be controlled. His punishment is not just physical labor; it’s meaninglessness. He represents the individual who tries to live purely from willpower, ignoring the symbolic life, the unconscious, and the archetypal dimensions of being.

The boulder, in this context, is not just a rock. It is the weight of unlived life, of repressed desires, traumas, and truths we have not yet integrated. Clients often come to therapy carrying this weight, without knowing what it really is.

The Shadow in the Stone

One of the most potent archetypes in Jungian thought is the Shadow—the parts of ourselves we reject or fail to recognize. Sisyphus’s punishment can be seen as the refusal to confront his own shadow. He cheats death (Thanatos), he deceives the gods—he denies limits, denies the unconscious, denies the numinous. The consequence is repetition without redemption.

For clients, the “boulder” may be an addiction they thought they’d conquered, a relationship pattern they can’t seem to break, or an inner voice of shame that persists despite years of self-help. These patterns are often shadow material. The psyche repeats what it cannot yet integrate.

The Turning Point: Making the Struggle Conscious

Jung believed that suffering becomes meaningful when it is made conscious. The eternal return of the same becomes a spiral when insight is gained. What if Sisyphus, instead of raging against his fate, began to relate to the stone? What if he became curious about it?

Albert Camus famously said, “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” In Jungian terms, we might say: one must imagine Sisyphus conscious. The stone does not change, but he does. He becomes aware of his shadow, his limitations, and his freedom within fate. In doing so, the rock may become symbolic—a burden, yes, but also a teacher.

Therapeutic Implications: From Fate to Destiny

Jung differentiates between fate (what happens to us) and destiny (how we respond to what happens). When clients begin to see their patterns not as punishment, but as symbolic messages from the unconscious, they begin the work of individuation.

This doesn’t romanticize pain—it dignifies it. The goal is not to stop pushing the stone, but to understand what the stone is. When a client can say, “I see this pattern, and I understand what it’s asking of me,” they have moved from compulsion to choice.

Conclusion: A Myth for Our Time

Sisyphus is not just a figure of despair; he is an archetype of potential transformation. In every repetition lies a hidden image, an unspoken truth. The stone we roll might be the key to our individuation—if we are willing to turn and face it.

So the question for the client (and the therapist) becomes: What is your stone made of? And what might happen if, instead of just pushing, you listened to it?