I remember receiving one of the core rules of camping at a young age from my dad; "always leave the space you're using in a better condition than when you found it."
Lately Iʻve been thinking about that as a core rule in the practice of life. Leaving behind a better environment than that of which I walked into.
Applied over my life, do I engage the toxins of our time or just try to avoid them?
Is there evidence of beauty in my annual resolutionary scribbles?
What about the small things? In the daily, hours, rooms I walk through, people I meet...
Or do I simply try to leave a lesser footprint and contribute nothing better.
Weʻre built beautifully. Inside and out there are the fingerprints of a great love. A love lost at times in the clutter, in the noise. A love that needs to be let out. Unleashed. Love that is beautiful. And in you.
The campsite is waiting.