I am watching the garbage men drive backwards, taking everything we discard, without hesitation or judgement, into the wide mouth of the truck; taking everything we don't want away from us. It must take courage to handle all the things about which we say... "not mine;" to take it and give it a place to be. There is a kindness and beauty in collecting trash. If there is a place for the discarded tin cans, there must be a place on this earth for me too.
May the garbage men back down the narrow, one-way, suburban streets of my spirit and collect everything that is done; all the hollow things that just take up space. Universe, swallow up my useless in your gaping mouth, and make it useful somewhere. Let it lead forward to new things that give pleasure to someone, somewhere. Let everything I am and everything I leave behind become something beautiful and useful. Let nothing be meaningless trash. Let everything be made beautiful again, in time.
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