I ate too much. I complained too much. I got too little exercise. I forgot to do my gratitude journal. That was my week on the surface.
But I did feel myself turn a corner in my soul. Things that once mattered to me that I had callously abandoned came to the fore again and I remembered, just a little, what I care about. Who I am, or want to be. What clenches my heart, and what makes me righteously indignant. More than that, I did something about it, in the small ways that I am able to.
The smallness of the acts isn’t significant. The doing is. The getting pissed off about an unfair situation and doing something about it. The sorrow of seeing the faces of suffering and doing something about it. Giving until it felt good. Doing something about it instead of waiting for someone else to do it.
It’s true that I’m only one person and there’s only so much I can do by myself. But here’s the thing: one person doing good added to another person doing good added to another person doing good and on and on adds up to a whole lot of good being done. One drop of rain by itself can’t do much, but added to others? They’ll fill an ocean.