I AM J. Marcus Marriott, a PhD in cosmology and astrophysics, and I’m also a colonel in the US Air Force. I’ve traveled the world teaching, lecturing, and researching the celestial universe, and I’m respected by many, disdained by few. My passion will always be what’s above me rather than what’s below. I often thought about becoming an astronaut, but I wavered because of my size, and the fact of sitting on the top of high explosives to reach space frightened me to the core. I have flown on military planes above the troposphere, viewing the Earth and all its wonders from above. I realized that there must be a majestic intelligence behind the creation of our beautiful planet, and yet the sight of our rain forests burning and dead zones in our oceans, filled with garbage and debris from all over the world, makes me extremely sad. My studies of the heavens started when I was very young, living in a downtown loft overlooking beautiful Lake Michigan in Chicago. Everyone thought I was clumsy because when I was outside, I was constantly looking upward and walking into things or tripping over stuff. It puzzled me that most people looked downward when strolling, as if looking for coins, not realizing that their interest should be toward heaven because that’s where our riches are. You would be surprised what you might find if you only looked up to the skies more often. We loved living in the Loop in downtown Chicago because of its safety, shopping, diversity of people, entertainment, museums, and world-renowned restaurants, which were all within walking distance from our home. The Chicago Planetarium was my very special place to visit, and after I volunteered there during the summer, I was offered a job in my third year of high school as a tour guide. I quickly befriended the planetarium manager, a professor at the University of Chicago, and became his protégé. I was immediately recognized as one who knew more about the universe than the other veteran guides. I often spent my free time asking questions and gawking at the cosmos through their powerful telescopes. I learned so much during the two years I worked there, and it prepared me well for my undergraduate studies at Stanford University. I loved to search the cosmos for shooting stars alone on our balcony as late as allowed, using my older brother’s discarded Christmas gift, his telescope. To me, the beautiful stars were fascinating, and they made me wonder and dream. On the roof of our building, which we called “Uptop,” was a dog park, tennis court, and a walking track. I would tell Mom that I was taking Terry, our five-year-old Boston Terrier, for a walk Uptop, although it was late. With Terry in the secure dog pen, I would lay flat on my back on the walking track and become one with the universe and stars. Time would stand still as I dreamed of one day traveling there. Sometimes I would get in hot water with Mom for losing track of time. Why did I see things in the sky that no one else did? My mom was a science teacher at a college prep school, and my dad was a cardiologist, and they were stern but fair in a loving way. I could never explain to my family that each visit to Uptop, alone except for Terry, one with the universe, made me just a little bit smarter. All I knew is that I was receiving answers to my questions, and my fact-checking on the web proved them to be correct. I was allowed only limited time Uptop, and I extended it as much as possible and would gladly accept punishment for an additional fifteen minutes. I remember once, watching through our very large bay windows, a late-evening thunderstorm, traveling west to east, with monstrous black clouds and huge bolts of lightning, striking furiously over the tumultuous dark lake. I wondered, excitingly, how I could convince Mom to let me go Uptop and experience the energy of this awesome storm. One distinct flash suddenly caught my attention! The unique thing was that one of the lightning clasps that brightened had what appeared to be a massive disk on its peak, with a broad beam of blue and reddish light, like an upside-down snow cone, shining from its underside, with lightning flickering inside of it. During each thunderous flash, the incredibly large disk, with its circling white and blue lights around its edges, was clearly viewable for an instant. “Mom, Mom! Please come look!” Before she arrived, the phenomenon was gone, so I told her what I saw and asked her what I had just seen. Her response was, “It was the hand of God, showing his awesome, tremendous power.” “But, Mom, I saw a spaceship, a flying saucer!” “God can be whatever he wants, son.” Little did she know she had planted a very important seed in me, and till this day, it is still being nurtured. My next big request from Dad was a digital camera compatible with my telescope. I was nine and didn’t understand the teachings and instructions at our nondenominational church, so I emulated what I experienced with a head full of questions over many years. Continuing my pursuit of knowledge, I asked Mom to explain to me who God was in her own words again. “He is our comforter, provider, healer, and he is in us and we in him.” I was more confused than ever because even Dad had his own opinion on who God was. “God is a spirit; so am I.” If you asked him the question a thousand times, in different ways, you got the same answer: “God is a spirit; so am I.” What you get from my doctor dad is always no more, no less. He would refuse to participate in any debates or discussions on politics or religion with anyone. My brother and I once purchased a gold chain with a crucifix for him, but he refused to wear it. “I don’t need no symbols to know who God is and where I stand with him.” Dad was true to his word throughout his entire life. “When can I see him face-to-face, Mom?” “We all will unite with him one day when we transition.” “Do you mean when we die?” “Yes, Marc!” To me, even at that early age, the answer was unacceptable. Why should I have to die to meet the one who supposedly created me, and why couldn’t he just show up in physical form every now and then and give me a hug and talk to me? If he would not show himself to me, then I’d just have to find him on my own. My oldest brother became a world-renowned minister, and I, following in my parents’ footsteps, chose a career in science. My mission to meet God without dying commenced.