Something there is...

          I wasn't quite sure why my friend was so hesitant. Our task was simple: Pick up and bag the fallen pine needles and conical swirlies scattered on the ground so I can locate the delicate dichondra growth and help it along.  She seemed to be having a lot of trouble displacing the surly black bug that had surfaced from under a small stone as she turned it over.  
          "I'm not sure I can do this," she confided; "I'm harming so many living beings." 
          I scooped up a handful of earth and the bug along with it and gently tossed both onto the terrace two feet below. 
          "Their lives are a series of unforeseen displacements.  It'll be okay;"  I grinned and left it at that.
          I don't know whether she could buy into that justification-- protecting life is a tenet of her faith and mind, although one of us would probably not couch it in those terms. 
          I was at peace with it as a borderline solution even knowing, in my heart of hearts, that hers was the higher, albeit 
unsustainable, ground, given the sanctity of life and the sheer number of insects on earth.  Still, I can sustain a modicum of moral ground as I walk this path: I can take no life.  I can cover the water bucket so the little ones don't jump in.  Anyway, it's a start.  And why not, since I'm out there gardening mainly to learn how to love.

Author:  Anonymous