Cattāri Brahmavihārā

One of the little practices that I try to undertake everyday (with sporadic success) is to pick up and throw out at least five pieces of garbage every day. Why do I do this? To show concern for our shared environment I suppose because I know that it doesn’t really make one iota of difference when I throw something in a can – it will be buried or thrown into a heap somewhere anyways. Still, I do it as an act of love for the place and the beings living here.

With that thought in mind, why is it that I’m so hesitant to clean up the common area of my apartment building? Rather than mutter to myself about how wasteful and irresponsible the packs of NYU kids are who move in and out en masse each semester, why can’t I just pick it up for them or, more precisely, for me? There’s this false sense that somehow I’m allowing an injustice to be committed and I’m abetting those responsible but how silly is that? If I have any desire to help others, let alone myself, why do I let such childish ideas take up space in my mind?