While skimming through the novel, “Birth and death of meaning” by Ernst Becker,
dumbfounded I was by the mythological mystery, perhaps uncovered by evident thoughts.
The basic instinct of humans for anxiety, seclusion from inner world, sexual
pursuit seemed well justified in his twisted string of words…
I was shocked to the core having realised the insignificance of ‘body’- a
container, a hollow cylinder where our true spirit dwells. It is peculiar and
foolish to judge a person by his face, hair, skin.
The intimate relationship with one another is linked to avoiding the
seclusion from the exterior world. The book stimulated me to think about how I
actually think, about myself, about people around me, about people’s worthless
attention towards outer personality.
The moment I stood at my workplace and looked around, I no more saw the
old people, but highly experienced souls. The grey hair no more seemed to
depict their old age or journey towards the end of life, but they rather
radiated maturity, dedication and perseverance for a no. of years. Following
the concept, I assumed old age as a mere wearing of the ‘hollow cylinder’ by
the consistent rolling down all kinds of paths laid down by life. Though the
soul keeps growing and getting more mature at the cost of this weariness.
Nice book !
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