Autumn slipped in through the gold sparkling Aspens. Their white bark somehow heightening the illumination. With so many conifers making a blanket a green and emitting a strong festive smell from pine covered floors at the edges of granite mountains, it only takes a few Aspens to steal the show. Only a few. Somewhat like small acts of kindness.
We’ve all heard wonderful quotes about random acts of kindness or that no act of kindness is too small. If we adhere to this belief, then we can see the gifts in even the most subtle of gestures.
As I travel on my own I find great freedom in the solitude, and at times, a confining sense of loneliness. On one particular day the weather was so cold and the wind so strong I was having trouble enjoying the beauty around me or even finding much gratitude in the wonderful experience of travel and seeing places I had never been. But on this particular day, my mood vacillated between sour and sad.
As I drove, a river caught my attention and I pulled over. I wandered along its banks. The wind lessened and the sun broke through the clouds and started its dance with the currents of the river. I watched a man down the way: casting, walking along the current, drawing the line back, and repeating the sequence again and again. I croached for a bit on my heels and quietly watched. Eventually, the man was in ear shot and we exchanged hellos. I began a light investigative questioning and he entertained my curiosities about fly fishing and rivers for a generous amount of time.
His white fly lure eventually snagged a small brown trout and after I admired it, he returned the young fish to the waters. “Sometimes I stand out here all day, trolling up and down and catch nothing,” he told me. I smiled and thought that was a great measure of dedication or persistence.
“You must love it,” I ventured.
“I always know things can change, so I wait.” He smiled, seeming to understand that he was more than just fishing. “Patience, that’s what fishing is about…I guess that’s what life is about too. Being patient, knowing things can change.”
My smile at his astute thoughts lifted me and I realized my sour and sadness had abaited. My thoughts had changed for the day. This one human being let me walk along the river with him, and let me ask questions, let me listen. So incidental really. As I drove away a grove of golden leaved Aspens sparkled, and I thought—there truly are no small acts of kindness, they can all glisten and give the opportunity to make change.