I Keep Recycling and Jeff Bezos Keeps Flying His Private Jet
Reflections on Small Acts in a World of Big Problems
The biggest problem I had yesterday was trying to fit in two work meetings, a co-write, return my Nuuly to UPS, and get groceries before everyone else cleaned the aisles due to a rare, incoming snowstorm. I’m still recovering from the flu and haven’t worked out in two weeks and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t worry about gaining weight. My dogs barked at my neighbors’ kids again when they were checking the mail. I lit a candle and it made my nose stuffy. My right thigh muscle has a knot in it. I FaceTimed my friend about something funny Todd said. We don’t have lamps anywhere in our house so the lighting is at 0 or 100 and I wish we had lamps. I produced a podcast that comes out in February and I ping-pong between thinking it’s the best thing ever and the worst thing ever.
Oh, and California is on fire. I saw someone comment, “I wish celebrities had houses in Gaza so people would pay attention” under a video of a firefighter saving photo albums from a Palisades house. I realized I haven’t thought about Gaza in a while and felt a surge of guilt. Then I saw Mark Zuckerberg changed some policy on Meta which might allow for more disinformation and Elon Musk said he actually can’t cut $2 trillion from the federal budget and Jeff Bezos’ Washington Post laid off 4% of its staff. And I wonder how long the Broligarchy will last. And honestly, I wonder why anything I do matters.
For example, Todd and I are diligent recyclers. We do the whole thing- plastic, glass, aluminum- every week. I don’t wrap my veggies in plastic at the grocery store and I use bamboo toothbrushes and whatever else I can think of. But I read yesterday that fifty of the world’s richest billionaires on average produce more carbon through their investments, private jets and yachts in an hour and a half than the average person does in their entire lifetime. Meaning, I could recycle for the rest of my life— and I probably will— but it will all be undone in one 15-minute ride that Taylor Swift takes from one part of Los Angeles to another part of Los Angeles.
I wonder if kids in Gaza dream about becoming artists or teachers or soccer players. I wonder if Jeff Bezos’ kids dream, or if everything seems possible to them.
Life is unfair. There would have been a time I could explain this using God language— God has a plan or Jesus said the poor will always be with you or suffering makes people more Christlike. But nowadays, I can’t explain. I don’t even want to. I don’t know why some kids are born in mansions and others in cages. I don’t know why some recycle milk bottles so others can fly jets. I don’t know why my biggest problem yesterday was fitting in work meetings and errands while others dodged bullets and searched dumpsters for food.
I have a feeling it’s not God’s doing as much as ours. I also have a feeling God cares more than we think, is more influential than we realize, and is eternally more concerned with inequities than stock markets.
All I know to do is keep recycling.
Not to save the world, but to remind myself that every purchase I make has an impact. To try and honor the earth in a small way. To waste less. To live in such a way that if a billion people replicated my actions, the world would be made better.
All I know to do is donate $50 to the Los Angeles Fire Department Foundation.
Not to save California, but to send love and tangible resources in the direction of first responders on the ground. To play my small part, which will connect to the small parts of others, and will hopefully become a web of support for those who need it most.
All I know to do is be present for my co-writes and meetings and listen to the anxious guy in line at UPS.
Not because a song will save the world, but because those people are my flesh-and-blood neighbors. I am a global citizen through my phone, but I am a local citizen through my presence. And when Jesus was asked what the most important commandment was, he looped in two: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”
And so, I keep going—not because I can solve the world’s problems, but because I believe in the weight of small things done with love. I don’t know if recycling my milk bottles, donating $50, or being present for a co-write can change the world. But I know it changes me.
And maybe that’s where my work begins.
Here’s to doing what we can, with what we have, where we are. It’s not everything, but it’s something. And something matters.
-Savannah