The Absurdity of Existence: The Art of Being Broken and Beautiful

I would like to share with you a story of how a doctor's dreams were shattered and then rebuilt. But first, let us explore Kintsugi: The Beauty of Your Cracks.

There is an ancient Japanese art called Kintsugi—the practice of repairing broken pottery with gold. The philosophy is simple yet profound: the cracks are not flaws to be hidden, but wounds to be honored. Instead of discarding the shattered, Kintsugi turns the broken into something more valuable than before. The golden veins do not erase the past; they illuminate it, transforming each fracture into a story of resilience, each scar into an emblem of survival.

Are you not the same?

Each of us has known pain, loss, and the weight of existence pressing down upon us. We have been cracked by disappointments, fractured by grief, broken by dreams that never came true. And yet, here we stand. If we are to embrace this absurd life, perhaps we must also embrace this truth: we are not ruined by our struggles. We are refined by them. 

A Doctor’s Dream, Shattered and Rebuilt

When I was fresh out of residency, stepping into my first job as a family doctor, purpose fueled me. I was ready to change lives, heal the sick, and truly make a difference. But what I found was something far more disheartening.

In the corporate medical machine, I had 10 minutes per patient—barely enough time to say hello, let alone uncover the true root of their suffering. The system did not want healers; it wanted prescription writers, physicians who could partner with Big Pharma, not with their patients.

Day after day, I watched myself become a cog in the very machine I had hoped to dismantle. I wasn’t practicing medicine—I was handing out Band-Aids. Superficial fixes. Temporary solutions. I became exhausted, burned out, staring at my reflection, wondering, Is this all there is?

Was this what I had trained for? To be a glorified drug dealer? To watch patient after patient cycle through the revolving door of conveyor-belt medicine, never truly healed?

The existential weight pressed in. The absurdity of it all gnawed at me.

Then, I broke. But breaking is not the end.

In 2012, I walked away. I left the system that had hollowed me out and built my private practice—a place where medicine could be personal again, where I could truly listen, where I could treat patients as human beings, not statistics. It was terrifying. It was uncertain. But for the first time in years, I found meaning again.

The Universe Whispers… And We Strain to Listen

There are nights when the sky stretches so endlessly above us we feel small—just fleeting sparks in an ocean of darkness. The stars twinkle in their ancient silence, indifferent to our joy, our suffering, our endless search for meaning.

Have you ever stood in such a moment, feeling the weight of existence press against your soul? Have you ever wondered why we ache for purpose in a world that offers none?

Albert Camus called this the absurd—the place where our longing for meaning meets the great, unyielding silence of the cosmos. And yet, the more we resist, the more the universe refuses to answer.

The Colosseum: Then and Now

I stood in the ruins of the Roman Colosseum, where men were thrown to lions for sport. A crowd once roared as blood stained the sand. I wondered: are we any different today? Do we not still stand in a modern-day Colosseum, where the powerful feast upon the weak for their own amusement?

The lions may have changed, but the game remains. Who among us has not been devoured by an indifferent world?

The Myth of Sisyphus: Learning to Love the Climb

Camus gave us Sisyphus, the man condemned to roll a boulder up a hill, only to watch it tumble back down for eternity.

But Camus also gave us something else: hope in the absurd.

“We must imagine Sisyphus happy,” he writes. What if happiness is not found at the summit, but in the climb itself?

What if, rather than cursing our fate, we learned to love every struggle, every moment of resistance? What if the secret to existence is not in reaching the top, but in dancing with the fall?

Nietzsche’s Eternal Return: Would You Choose This Life Again?

Nietzsche posed a question:

What if you had to live this life over and over for eternity?
 Would you tremble in despair? Or would you smile and say, Yes. Again. Always again.

Because to live fully is not to chase perfection. It is to embrace the raw, imperfect, messy beauty of this human experience. It is to find meaning in every breath, every sorrow, every starlit night of wondering.

Laughing with God: The Cosmic Joke

Perhaps the universe is not cruel, but playful.

Perhaps we are not being punished, but invited into a dance—a divine jest where suffering and joy, longing and fulfillment, loss and love are not contradictions but partners.

The poet Rumi tells us:

"This being human is a guest house.
 Every morning a new arrival.
 A joy, a depression, a meanness…
 Be grateful for whoever comes,
 because each has been sent
 as a guide from beyond."

If the absurd is real, if the universe does not provide us with meaning—then let us become the authors of our own great story.

A New Way Forward: Creating Meaning in the Absurd

The mistake is believing we must choose between meaninglessness and certainty. What if we could hold both?

  • What if we could acknowledge life’s absurdity, yet still find wonder in it?

  • What if we could reject rigid doctrines, yet still touch the sacred?

  • What if we could laugh at our insignificance, yet still feel deeply, madly alive?

This is Spiritual Existentialism.

This is The Divine Absurd.

Kintsugi: Our Scars Are Gold

And so, if existence is absurd, then let us become the gold-filled cracks in the broken pottery of life.

If suffering is inevitable, then let us transform it into wisdom.
 If loss is certain, then let us turn it into gratitude.
 If life offers us nothing but chaos, then let us paint it with a meaning of our own making.

When I walked away from the medical machine, I broke the pot of what I thought my career would be.
 But I put it back together with gold.

The cracks still show.
 But now, they shine.

And so do yours.

The universe may be indifferent, but we are not.

We are the shattered vessels of existence,
 and in the places where we have been broken,
 we shine the most.

Disclaimer: The medical stories shared by the author are based on real patient encounters. All patient identifiers and medical facts have been removed and altered to such a degree that you are reading a work of fiction. Therefore the stories shared are merely to entertain you. However, for the astute reader you may find powerful and profound lessons for living. These messages of universal truth should not be construed as medical advice, but feel free to use them as free Cuban soul spice to live your truth.