THE BEGINNING OF THE JOURNEY
It is a magical night—one of those rare December evenings when the cold and the warmth mix just right to blanket everything with big, fluffy, crystalline flakes of snow. Everything looks so perfect; everything feels so silent. As the snow deepens, so does the silence in the atmosphere. I could be viewing this mesmerizing winter scene from a chalet in Switzerland, but I’m not. I’m in bumper-to-bumper traffic on a Minneapolis freeway, and oddly enough, I’m enjoying every minute of it.
Being in a car at rush hour can be a prison or a monastic retreat. It all depends on your perspective. Does it really matter that I’m going to be late? Even though I could feel stressed, I don’t. I could use this time to peek at e-mails, ...
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