I had been blogging three days when I posted this story. At the time I had four readers––I think––or it may have been just me times four since I didn’t have a handle on Google analytics at the time. However, It remains one of my favorites so I thought I’d re-post it.
I read the news––and invariably, I think about God. This predilection, not practiced for most of my adult life, now gives me great comfort. And compels me to tell a story.
Once upon a time…
I was in New York City on business visiting some bigwigs––a great address on Park Avenue for those that care. The meeting was to be an important one. As I entered the sleek colorful elevator on the ground floor, there’s another man, smartly dressed, already inside. As we start our upward journey, the perfunctory nods out-of-the-way, we’re jarred by a sudden lurch, and we stop.
“When these things happen, I go into a Zen state,” he says.
“Really. I try to solve for the rate of acceleration of a falling object.”
