الثلاثاء، 12 مايو 2015

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Lately I've been experiencing a new feeling. Every time I lose something, I can't help but feel relieved: A feeling of lightness. A feeling that makes me wish I could just remain burden free. 
The significance of my earthly belonging doesn't matter. It could range from my link to home: my phone, to a simple convenient object I use to stay hydrated: my thermos.
But the privilege of being an independent facing the thought of being free of responsibility is one that is unbearable, however light it may make me feel.

This fell in accordance with reading Milan Kundera's novel: The Unbearable Lightness of Being. I found it to be a complicatedly constructed piece of art that gave me both the delight of it's apparent subtlety, while also giving me the intellectual pleasure of sensing that every character, every word, every event being deliberately placed for the precision of adding to the greater meaning of the title chosen, to the pull between lightness and heaviness.

As in every other Kundera text I've experienced, the main purpose and accomplishment is aesthetic.

Perhaps the greatest contrast this novel provides is between the mundane filth we cannot help but produce yet reject as human beings and the ideals we hold at an ethereal level in what he deems as "Kitsch".

I continue to feel relief for a few seconds before I feel heavy as a crash deletes most of what I started out saying.