I have always loved the ‘Theatre of the Absurd’ (le théâtre de l'absurde), of which the Anglo-Irish playwright Samuel Beckett (pictured left), who lived most of his adult life in France, was one of its leading exponents.
The tramps---'existential clowns,' they have been called---believe that Godot will in some unexplained way make everything different. Godot will give meaning and coherence to their miserable lives, and will relieve their metaphysical anguish. 'We are all born mad. Some remain so.' Just the thought of Godot’s supposed imminent arrival gives the two tramps some false comfort and relief from the existential absurdity and pointlessness of their condition. How very much like them are we!
However, Godot never comes. No surprises there.
Vladimir: Hmm. It'd give us an erection.
There is only one way to live with purpose---even when confronted with utter hopelessness---and that is to choose to live mindfully in the Eternal Now. True, ‘There’s no lack of void,’ as Estragon says in the play, but if you face each moment with directness and immediacy by maintaining bare attention to, and being choicelessly aware of, whatever is the ‘content’ of each passing moment, from one moment to the next, your life will be meaningful and coherent---even in the face of an otherwise indecipherable cosmos.
'The only sin is the sin of being born,' writes Beckett. Be that as it may, don't wait for Godot to relieve you of the burden of being human---that is, the bondage of self. Godot never comes. Godot never turns up. Never has, never will. In fact, don't wait at all. Just live mindfully---in the Eternal Now---and you will be free of the bondage of self.
Tramps---I mean, angels---can do no better.