Infinitesimal components of compost

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We are but infinitesimal blips in the grand scheme of things.  We know that in principle, but living in our own skin can diminish that perspective.  We find ourselves enveloped by a strange sense of self-importance which can lead to dramatic fist shaking cries of “why me?”.

But really we’re just components of compost. Literally is still, somehow, illegal, but figuratively.  Each insect, arthropod, worm, bacteria, and mushroom quietly fills its roll in the breaking down of things without regard for the big picture of returning waste to nature to be reused.

​I can’t help but assume we’re the same.  Just plugging along here doing our little farming thing, contributing to a whole that we don’t fully understand.  We fill a little tiny niche in our community, which fills an even tinier niche in the world, which fills an even tinier niche in the universe, and so on.  I don’t need to understand the whole picture to feel comfortable filling my little niche in my little community.  I’m perfectly content to know I’m a part of your world and you’re a part of mine, and that we somehow fit into a larger picture.