One day my oldest daughter Casey and I were reading and I explained that letters make words, words make sentences, sentences make paragraphs, paragraphs make a page, and pages make a book. Each time we would settle in for a good read we would go over that progression of the written word. When her kindergarten teacher asked the class what is a sentence, she answered that a sentence is made up of words. I couldn't have been more proud. Our lives are built on moments that turn to memories that in turn define a progression of being indicated by the mile markers notched on our souls.
Glancing at Casey I was struck by the sight of her standing next to a stack of spiritual books I had set on the floor awaiting their pilgrimage to Half Price Books. They were stacked taller than her and were all on only one subject. The image made me laugh because what have I really gained through all that reading but pieces or glimpses of who I am and disappointment that I couldn't obtain the exuberance others seem to grasp. The movie Razor's Edge, a remake with Bill Murray about a man's spiritual journey, shows a scene where the Lama sent him to a mountain temple for answers. The climb was too long to return before night fall and Bill's character started to freeze upon finding no one there. He began burning the books he always carried with him for warmth. The sudden lesson of why he was sent to that abandoned mountain temple became clear, there is more to life than living vicariously through a book and we should not possess that which possesses us. Laughing, he started tearing away at his beloved books feeding the fire that sustained him until morning.
I find myself alone on that same mountain top, but for different reasons and all I can do is burn the facade of a false front page by page to sustain me until daylight comes. I am grateful for my view of the world…it has come at a cost.
For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow ~ Ecclesiastes 1:18
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