It’s been said that you can’t do big things if you’re distracted by small things. I’m always distracted by small things. I’m reading a book and suddenly wonder: Did I put coffee creamer on the grocery list? I’m brushing my teeth: Did I pay my car insurance? Mile three on my morning walk: Has that idiot conceded yet? What’s the matter with the Republicans?
On Monday morning, November 16, however, I was distracted by a big thing and didn’t notice a small thing. The big thing was the sunrise, and the small thing was . . . well, exactly what was that thing that I didn’t notice until after I got home and reviewed at least a dozen photos taken from the same spot? A dead animal? A blanket? Worse, a baby wrapped in a blanket?
All that Monday, I was bugged by what that thing might be, and several times was tempted to drive out to that field to get a closer look. Eventually, I was distracted by other things and forgot about it.
Then, yesterday morning, while photographing a cold front that had blocked the sunrise . . . I spotted it again, that mystery thing that I had completely forgotten about. And it was in the same position. The cold front had been accompanied by harsh 15 – 20 mph winds, but the thing hadn’t moved in a week. It couldn’t be garbage.
I cautiously approached it, prepared to be horrified, saddened, or both, and discovered a worn piece of plastic embedded in the soil. I thought about kicking it out of the dirt, but then decided to just let it be. I’m curious how long it will be there, but I also like the reminder that small things can be embedded in big things. Too often I’m blinded by big distractions and miss the impact of little things like saying, “Thank you,” wearing a mask, or voting in a Presidential election.
At the beginning of Thanksgiving week, remember that small, crumbled piece of plastic and what it oddly taught me: Do the small things today. In the future when you look back, they’ll have had the deepest impact.
A couple of things: the idiot appears to have conceded, but will never say so.
And the decision to leave the torn, imbedded plastic was preceded by a moral dilemma about leaving “garbage” in the middle of a field that had sown wheat this year. But it wasn’t garbage to me. It kind of looked like a small mammal on its back or one that had died. Removing it seemed spiritually disruptive. All to say that I’ll be checking every time I walk by to see if it’s still there. Perhaps this particular field will be fallow in the spring. Perhaps I’ll find that torn and worn piece of plastic and a new revelation will be harvested.
This post brought choked me up, Sharon. Thank you. I am so thankful for our years of friendship. You are the big thing and the small thing. xoxo
Sorry, there was a typo. Please remove “brought” from my first sentence, thank you.
“This post choked me up, Sharon.”
DONE!
And actually, the first time I read it, I thought it said, “brought tears to my eyes,” so I got both messages. But you, in return, choked me up with this: “You are the big thing and the small thing.” One of the loveliest things anyone has every said to me. xoxo
My high school friend, Susan, emailed me a GIF in response to this post. She thought that piece of plastic could have one time been this critter which I think is brilliantly insightful:
https://www.dreamstime.com/watchful-meerkat-poking-head-out-den-sandy-botswana-image157267737
I really enjoyed this post. It is a good reminder to slow down and observe.
The Japanese have a word for contemplative walks through the woods, “forest bathing”, called Shinrin-yoku. These walks are a way of reconnecting and decreasing stress among other benefits.
The irony is not lost that the beauty here includes “garbage” which has become part of our landscape. (Optimistically, I thought it was a small puddle.)
Adrienne, I don’t know what phrase I like better: “forest bathing” or “Shinrin-yoku.” Both sound beautiful. I had never heard the phrase before. Also, inspired by your comment, I plan to pay more attention to garbage when I walk, though I’ll now stuff a bag into one pocket to retrieve it. Thank you.
One more thing — you’ve always been concerned about how much I HATE morning ablutions, especially washing up. Now I can simply say, “Why yes, I bathed today. I indulged in Shinrin-yoku.”
I find your close-up photo quite interesting and lovely — the dried, broken wheat shafts, the spots of green showing through, the area of red in the lower right quadrant, then the “dead body” of the plastic in the center. I don’t know what this says about my artistic sense, but I’ve been staring at it for a very long time!
Wendy, your comment reminded me of this beautiful scene from the film, “American Beauty.” It’s a little over 3 minutes long, but honestly, one of the most arresting scenes I’ve ever watched, and it features a white plastic bag:
Thank you so much for sharing that. I could’ve watched that plastic bag dancing all day, with the dead leaves that look like the scene outside my window and the perfect music. And Sharie, you always find the beauty in the world.
Wendy, I know that I’m sentimental to a fault (as Adrienne will attest), but the first time I saw that “American Beauty” scene in a theater, I just bawled. It’s SO beautiful — the dancing bag and leaves against the red bricks, the script and yes, the perfect music by one of my favorite soundtrack composers, Thomas Newman. Thank you for affirming that and . . . my love of beauty. I’d be a goner without it. xoxo
“Small things…embedded in big things.” What a beautiful piece to remind me/us of all the small things in our lives for which we can be grateful and of all the small things we can do to make the lives of others feel a little bit bigger. Loved reading this piece. Thank you.
You’re very welcome, Carol, whose heart is embedded in all things sacred.