As I was growing up, when something unfortunate would happen to me or to a friend or relative, I used to think, "Well, that's life." That's what I had been taught, and I believed it. After all, my life hadn't been so great. My parents were divorced when I was in first grade. As I grew older they both had serious physical difficulties. Things were rough for both them and me. Over and over again as I grew up I was told, "Do the best you can, and that is all you can do, because that's life."
As the years passed I experimented with drugs, alcohol, meditation, homeopathy, and creative visualization—all in a desperate search for truth. Something in me was not willing to accept that things had to stay permanently bad. So I kept searching.
After one year of college, I decided to transfer to a music school. My first roommate there was a Christian Scientist. (I had never heard of Christian Science.) It didn't take long for me to notice that he was different: he rarely got sick, and if he did, it wasn't for long; he was always happy, eager to help others, and excited about life; he didn't drink or smoke; and he had two books on his desk that he studied, especially every morning. Where were his problems?