living

The Elevator of Life: A Profound Story of Honesty

Benjamin2 Comments
2–3 minutes

The Whiskey Sea and the Elevators

The man had lived his life in balance—not a saint, not a sinner, but somewhere in between. He had helped when strong. He erred when he was weak. Now, in his elder years, he carried the weight of both. His body ached. His breath came shorter. One night, he sank into a sleep so deep it felt like stepping into another world.

A ship appeared from the darkness. Its hull was blackened with age. It floated on a sea of whiskey. The whiskey shimmered like molten amber under the moonlight. A cigar extended from the deck like a gangplank, smoke curling in lazy ribbons. Hesitant but curious, the man stepped onto the cigar and walked across, balancing himself as if crossing into another reality.

On board, a captain awaited him—tall, weathered, eyes that had seen too much. “I’m here to take you to your next destination,” the captain said, voice low and certain. The man nodded. The ship cut across the whiskey sea. It came to rest before a towering building of glass and brass. Its entrance was lined with golden elevators, each gleaming like judgment itself.

Inside, a sharply dressed man waited in the lobby. His shoes were polished so bright they caught the reflection of the man’s weary face. He gestured toward a chair. “Tell me your life story,” he said.

And so the man spoke. He told of the good—moments of kindness, loyalty, laughter. He confessed to the bad—times of selfishness, anger, and failure. He left nothing out, for what use was there in lying at the end? The suited man listened, not judging, only nodding as though each word was weighed like coin on a scale.

At the end, silence hung heavy. The suited man pressed a single button. The doors of one elevator slid open, glowing with light the man did not quite see. He stepped ahead, heart pounding. Whether the elevator rose or fell, he did not know. But as the doors closed, he understood something profound. The true measure had never been perfection. It was honesty. It was the courage to walk the bridge, board the ship, and face the truth of who he had been.

By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025 

Counting Seconds: A New Perspective on Time

BenjaminLeave a comment
2–3 minutes

How Counting Seconds Can Change Your View of Time

He almost walked past the park bench that morning. Another day, another half-forgotten hour drifting into the pile of others. Life, he thought, had been nothing special. Sixty years gone, and what was left? A handful of photographs, some worn-out stories, and too many missed chances.

Something pulled him down onto the bench. An older gentleman sat next to him. The man’s eyes seemed to know something he didn’t. They exchanged the small talk of strangers until the conversation wandered toward time itself.

“You say sixty years is nothing?”

The old man asked with a quiet smile.

“Let’s count it differently.”

He leaned back, gaze fixed on the trees swaying above them.

“In your life, the Earth has spun on its axis more than 21,900 times. That’s 21,900 sunrises and sunsets — not one of them the same. You’ve lived through over 525,000 hours. Do you realize how many conversations, choices, and quiet moments fit into that span? More than 31 million minutes. More than 1.8 billion seconds. And each one a chance to live, to change, to love.”

The man swallowed. He had never thought of it like that. He had always measured himself by birthdays, promotions missed, or years lost to routine. But suddenly his life didn’t seem so small. Each second, he realized, was a story. Every minute, a chance to change one.

“And here’s the wonder,”

the older man continued.

“Every one of those seconds kept you alive. Your heart beat. Your lungs pulled in air. The Earth carried you through another rotation of light and shadow. You’ve orbited the Sun sixty times, son. That’s not nothing. That’s a journey.”

They sat in silence after that. The bench creaked beneath them. The leaves whispered. And for the first time in a long time, he felt his life wasn’t slipping away. Instead, it was unfolding — second by second, minute by minute. It unfolded in ways he had never stopped to count.

As he stood to leave, the old man gave him a final thought:

“Don’t measure your worth in years, or even decades. Measure it in seconds well-lived. Those, my friend, are endless if you pay attention.”

By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025