The bench was lonely, and the beach forsaken. I sat for a while to give them company. Another month, they’d bury beneath snow under a cloudy canopy of grey, and the bay would begin to freeze over.
I kicked an earthen mound. The hill disintegrated in a puff of dust, and ants scattered in the sand. A moment passed, no more. The colony re-gathered to the hole, and went back to their busyness, recollecting and reconstructing their home, one grain of sand at a time.
I had a serious case of ant envy. It bugged me.
Did the entire army intuit a collective idea of importance? Or, like so many others, did they busy themselves to sidetrack their search for significance? Deep down in the lower levels of the hill, did they pause to ponder their purpose, or was that a pest just for people like me?
I was a struggling soul, like a hole that wanted to be filled. But, I couldn’t be satisfied. There was no peace for me without an understanding of life’s purpose.
Then the wind called to me.
I looked up to the hills across the bay. I did a double take, pinched myself twice, then sat staring and jaw-dropped. There, hanging over me, written in the clouds, was a signal--clear as day--a question mark that punctuated the moment. It was time for me to search for the truth of life’s meaning.
For a guide, I was sent an unlikely but amiable agent. His mission was to prepare me for the discussion of Life and God issues. He presented six, key principles, each one essential for examining the various claims for answering life’s ultimate questions. It was a code for truth-seeking.
I spent a unique week with my little friend, collecting and learning the wisdom of that code, and experiencing life from his perspective. By the time he was finished with me, I realized we had created a handbook, essential for anyone who might be up for the search for meaningful life. Now, it’s a book.
On sale next week, November 21, the day before Thanksgiving, 2018!
I call it the “Why Cloud.” Taken with my IPhone on the beach at Little Traverse Bay, MI.