God Must Really Like Rocks

I have three friends. One is an anthropologist, another is a biologist, and   another is a physicist. I asked each of them the same question. Do you believe  in God? After much hemming and hawing, some stammering and blushing, the bottom line each came up with was:

Nothing comes from nothing and that's a fact. 

 I asked them if they believed in a cosmic consciousness.

The biologist said, "Absolutely. DNA proves it."  

 The physicist said, "Without doubt. Mathamatics proves it." 

The anthropolgist was more reluctant. "I think man needed to give meaning to his existence. However that doesn't preclude the existence of a higher being."                                                                                 

Um,  yeah,whatever.                                                                                                                                            

Another friend is a geologist who believes that Earth was seeded by meteorites. Little bits of matter survived the fall onto our planet, mixed with the mush  that was once Earth, and out of it popped little amoebas that eventually grew into human beings. He believes that God loves rocks and through them, we were created.     

On a personal note, I can live with that. I love rocks too. Each one is a  fountain of information dating back millions of years. They are the DNA of our  planet, the coded information that speaks of the existence of millenia. Each one has a story to tell. All of them unique.

In the books I write, each one, aside from (hopefully) telling a good story, the characters search for the meaning of life. For them it comes in a variety of solutions, all having some scientific basis in fact.      
                                                                                              
Each person's journey is unique and individual. Death like birth, is a personal experience, so too is the nature of reality. To me, it is without question there is a higher existence. Just the scent of pine on the air, or the splash of a fish  on a sun-dappled pond speak volumes to me. 
                                                                                                                
As to the nature of God, I think I'll let Him/Her figure it out. When I got sick, I handed in my resignation letter to the title of Queen of the Universe. There were very few perks that came with the job, and often no vacation daysl. But, all that being said, for  a fixer like me, it was quite a job to leave. However, in rebuilding my health, it is has to be one forever behind me.
                                                                                                             
I'm going to head back to the sand and the water, stick my feet in and let the  Croppies nibble my toes. Heaven is my grandchildren next to me, admiring the  fish I just happened to catch from a lake that just happened to be there, on a  day the sun just happened to shine in the sky and warm me, handing me perfection when I didn't ask for it. 
                                                                                                                    
Life is like that sometimes.
                                                                                                                                
Good reading everyone!