I pick up trash.
It started a long time ago. I think it all began from a seed planted by those old “Keep America Beautiful” commercials from the 70’s — the one where a man portraying an American Indian stands by the side of the road and as a car drives by the passenger throws trash at his feet, and a tear comes to his eye.**
In many ways that picture has stuck with me. So, when I see trash and I’m able, I pick it up. It happened again today, another opportunity. And as I stood there eyeing the discarded paper towel (wanting to ignore it but not sure I wanted to win the internal wrestling match I was feeling between “I should” and “I don’t want to”), I walked past. This time I did not pick it up.
I was almost to the hallway when a thought began to emerge in my mind. And in a moment I realized this ritual of mine touches on something far deeper. This simple act of picking up trash is somehow linked to something deep within my heart — it serves to expose my beliefs and motives about life.
Standing in the hallway, Continue reading “Finding Life in a Fistful of Trash”