Something there is...

          I wasn't quite sure why my friend was reluctant; our task was simple:  Pick-up and bag the pine needles and conical swirlies scattered all over the ground so I could locate the delicate dichondra undergrowth and help it along.  She seemed to be having trouble displacing the surly black bug that had just surfaced from under a small stone. 
          "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 a small terrace two feet below. 
          "Their lives are a series of unforeseen displacements.  It'll be okay."
I grinned a bit and left it at that, sufficiently 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. 

          I don't know whether 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, I can sustain a modicum of moral ground as I walk this earth: 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 in the garden shade mainly to learn how to love.

Anonymous.  June, 2023.