Something there is...

          I wasn't quite sure why my friend was so reluctant; the task was simple:  Gather up and bag the dry pine needles and conical swirlies that were scattered all over the ground so we could locate the delicate dichondra undergrowth and help it along.  She seemed to be having trouble displacing a surly black bug that had surfaced from under a small stone. 
          "I'm not sure I can do this," she confided; "I'm harming so many life forms." 

           I scooped up a handful of earth and the bug along with it and gently tossed both onto a small terrace two feet below. 
           "Their lives are a series of unforeseen displacements. It'll be okay." 
          I grinned and left it at that, sufficiently at peace with the, at best, borderline solution, all the while knowing in my heart of hearts that hers was the higher, if unsustainable, ground given the sanctity of life weighed against the sheer number of insects on earth. 

          I doubt that she was able to buy into that justification.  Protecting life is a tenet of her faith and mine, although one
of us would probably be less inclined to couch it in those exact terms.  Still, perhaps I can retain at least a modicum of moral ground as I walk this earth-- I will take no life, I will cover the bucket of water so the little ones don't jump in. 
          It's a start.  And why not, since I'm out there working in the garden in the afternoon shade mainly to learn how to love.

Anonymous.  June, 2024.