Meaning- significance, point, worth.
It all boils down to meaning. The motivation behind actions and words. The drive that propels a person or group towards a certain goal. The thrust that determines how much a person is willing to give to achieve that same goal.

What happens when meaning disappears and all is left is a habit, ritual, a routine? What then is the point of the remnants? Just for past's sake? For the mere comfort it brings? Or for the fact that it is politically correct to stick to and by it, and maybe the complications of expectations adhered unto you?

Worse. You don't even realise that the meaning is gone. Thwarted.

It all becomes farce. A masquerade. Masks hiding the sheer emptiness behind it.

But then again, who's to say meaning is gone? No one can point fingers, because meaning is subjective. Meaning is innate, if you will, intrinsic. Meaning is owned, possessed. All in the mind. To accuse someone of losing grasp of meaning would be as foolish as trying to read their mind.

I think know I've lost meaning to different areas of my life many times. But then there's always a wake up call, and I'm back on track again, needless to say grateful for the timeliness of the call.

So should we, bystanders, be responsible in enlightening victims of habituality (if there's ever such a word), and be more vulnerable than ever to accusation of judgement? Or shall lips be sealed?

What say you?
|