Not too long ago while at lunch with friends, one of them remarked about an insensitive comment made by a mutual acquaintance. Having committed similar infractions more times than I care to admit in my own life, I felt the need to defend her. “Sometimes we say things that we don’t mean,” I pleaded her, and my, case. Yes, but as I was reminded, some people say the wrong thing more often than others — and then don’t think twice about it afterward.
When I arrived home from work today, tired due to allergies or perhaps some as of yet unexplained medical condition, I noticed something odd on my front porch. I looked closer and noticed that it was covered with little tiny ants. Having just killed a huge ant that zipped from one end of my desk to the other earlier in the day, callous human that I am, perhaps I overreacted. I used my shoe to swish off what my gut told me was a piece of candy.
And just as I did that, I realized that I just kicked a robin’s egg that had fallen from the nest on the stoop above. The nest which seems to be doomed; the one from which I have buried baby birds the past two years. The fluid-filled shell and about 20 ants were carelessly tossed aside by my imperial foot. I immediately experienced a deep sense of regret, then remorse. Even though I am not one of those regularly insensitive people, I felt as through I had violated the sacred agreement between woman and the earth on which she roams.
I can’t offer you a pleasant resolution to this story, because I have not yet discovered that for myself. But I have been reminded to be more present, more intentional, and more caring at every moment. Especially when I am feeling tired.