There is a group of people sitting on my rock by the water. It’s not really mine, I can’t claim it, I can’t ask them to move, so I move to what I can claim. Another Rock. A new spot A new space. And I need it because, well, I just do.
I am reminded that I need to put some paper bags in the saddle bag of my bike to pick up the trash people leave behind here. Next time I come, I will pick up the beer bottles and soda cans and plastic cups. “Always leave a place cleaner than you found it,” I was taught, but I haven’t always done that.
I can pick up litter. I can commit to small changes. Every day a small improvement.
I claim my Rock and am reminded that these are the days of small moments. Those around us will either be antagonized by or attracted to what we do in our small moments.
Among the empty beer bottles and crushed soda cans stuffed into sacred spaces, a single wildflower reminds me to choose well.