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gatherings, but the girl I was dating at the time had talked me into it. I quickly regretted the decision. For hours I endured her shamelessly flirting with a young celebrity until I couldn’t take it anymore. I just walked out. I left her there without so much as a goodbye. In my opinion I was doing everyone a favor because another minute of the bullshit and I would have strangled somebody.
She was nowhere to be found that morning. I assumed she had gone off with the actor. It was a slight blow to the ego, but the fact that it was actually over between us came as the only relief that horrible morning.
I finally did get out of bed, and when I got to the bathroom mirror I saw something horrifying. I didn’t recognize the man in the reflection. It was like there was nothing behind my bloodshot eyes. For the first time in my life I went to my knees and prayed. I prayed for my soul. I prayed for peace. I prayed for answers. Why was this happening to me?
Later that day, I was scheduled to fly back to France, but somehow I ended up at the train station in Geneva. As a child I had taken the train dozens of times. I had fond memories of watching the countryside race by outside the windows. I needed time to think, to go back in time and find out where I had gone wrong.
As we left the Swiss border, I began to think of my childhood. The complexity of adulthood was overwhelming to me. I longed for simpler times. I had always considered myself a seeker, but now I was lost. How had I gotten so far off the right path?
A black man was sitting across from me. He had a mushroom-shaped afro, watery eyes like pearls in a shell, and full lips. He was wearing polyester khaki slacks, a pair of athletic sneakers, and a short-sleeved button down shirt. A notepad and pens were in his breast pocket. By anyone’s definition, he was a nerd.
I had never been the type to just strike up a conversation with a stranger. Most of my life I had suffered from a nearly pathological shyness, probably from a childhood on the move, never living in any one city for more than a year and therefore always the new kid. In this instance, for reasons I can’t explain, I felt inclined to make conversation. I learned he was a scientist, a string theorist. At the time I knew nothing about subatomic strings. His explanation of protons, neutrons, and quarks was Greek to me, but I was totally fascinated. We talked nonstop to Paris and later we corresponded by email, and over the next few months we had many conversations by telephone that went into the late hours of the night.
I quickly learned that I would never understand quantum physics, but the theoretical themes intrigued me. In my loneliness and isolation, I found comfort in a place billions of times smaller than the nucleus of an atom. For me, there was an obvious correlation between basic quantum mechanics and morality. In science, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Buddhist monks believed the wave of a hand could be felt at the end of the universe. For me, whether it was science or philosophy, Newton or a Tibetan monk, the idea was the same: my actions were causing depressing reactions. I hadn’t been suffering from a hangover; I had come to a dead end after years of being on the wrong path. Everything about my life was superficial; my relationships were ones of ease and convenience. The work that had brought me so much success lacked meaning for me.
I was disconnected.
The underlying truth of Newton’s theory and the Chinese axiom tells us that in order for action and reaction to work, all things must be connected. Being disconnected is unnatural. Once I reconnected with the universe, amazing things began to happen. Life presented me with a series of meaningful accidents. One beautiful thing led to another. To me, it was obvious that more than just mere chance was at work. I was being led. I was on the path to my destiny.
At the end of my journey, the discovery of the Zone was the universe’s