What's Holding Me Back? (3)

April 14, 2004 

I'm a sicko. Normal people read John Grisham. I read Ernest Becker.

No-one ever accused Becker of frivolity. You can tell from his titles - The Denial of Death, The Birth and Death of Meaning, Escape from Evil - that these aren't exactly bodice-ripping yarns.

I've read only one of them: The Denial of Death. It earned Becker the Pulitzer Prize for General Nonfiction in 1974. One reviewer went so far as to describe it as "one of the great books of the 20th or any other century."

It ain't easy being human, argues Becker. Like all creatures, we are mortal. But unlike every other creature, we know that we are mortal; we know that we are doomed to become food for worms. "This is the terror: to have emerged from nothing, to have a name, consciousness of self, deep inner feelings, an excruciating inner yearning for life and self-expression - and with all this to die."

According to Becker, we bury this terror deep in our unconscious. To lessen our sense of vulnerability and aloneness, we embed ourselves in social groups. As children, we learn "the ways of the world." Later we walk culturally approved paths, pursuing a good bank balance, a flash car, a higher rung on the success ladder, or whatever else will earn us credit with the groups we want to belong to.

There is an alternative. It is to follow a path that expresses our uniqueness - to try, in Abraham Maslow's words, "to become that which we can glimpse in our most perfect moments." But this threatens to isolate us - to leave us feeling more alone and vulnerable and exposed than ever.

This option fills us with such secret dread, contends Becker, that most of us find reasons not to pursue our unique talents and dreams. We prefer to be lulled by the daily routines of society, content to play "the standardized hero-game."