I love words. Words give me hope that I will understand and be understood. Ever since Roger Ebert put his face on the cover of Esquire I knew he was someone I wanted to understand. He is a writer too. I stop by his online journal when I’m in the neighborhood. On the surface, we have little in common, Roger and I, aside from cancer and a love of words.
This morning I was touched by his insight, confidence, and clarity. In an essay about Terrence Malick’s new film The Tree of Life he wrote:
Many films diminish us. They cheapen us, masturbate our senses, hammer us with shabby thrills, diminish the value of life. Some few films evoke the wonderment of life’s experience, and those I consider a form of prayer. Not prayer “to” anyone or anything, but prayer “about” everyone and everything. I believe prayer that makes requests is pointless. What will be, will be. But I value the kind of prayer when you stand at the edge of the sea, or beneath a tree, or smell a flower, or love someone, or do a good thing. Those prayers validate existence and snatch it away from meaningless routine.
We all occupy our own box of space and time. We have our memories and no one else’s.
I am certain of very little, but I do know that I am fully occupying my box of space and time. This awareness of self is a rich and wonderful thing. And, above all else, it is full of prayer. Thanks Roger. Be well.