Collection of Found Objects

Mark Olmsted, essayist and speaker, hates litter. This is not surprising, because who doesn’t hate litter, really? In his essay “The Courage to Change the Things I Can”, one might expect for Olmsted to lay out a convincing argument for why littering is bad, and how to fix the problem going forward. I would expect to hear phrases like ‘litter is slowly choking the delicate ecosystems of our planet into an uninhabitable wasteland!’ or ‘If every person just picked up 5 pieces of trash…’  Instead, Olmsted tells us about his personal journey through addiction recovery, and what it taught him about living well. His intention is to show that a shift in perspective is all that is needed to make a meaningful change in the world around us, and bring joy to ourselves. Not only do I agree with his assessment, but also I believe it is through his addiction recovery that he learned this unique perspective.

In 2015 I checked myself in to a detox facility in Chicago, and in the years following spent time in various recovery circles learning the special vocabulary used among individuals in recovery. In the third paragraph of his essay, Olmsted’s use of the phrase “to make amends” is loaded with meaning. A simple definition of the phrase references apology, a way to identify and take responsibility for an infraction. But to a person in a 12-step recovery program, amends is step 8 and 9, and is much more involved than just offering up some easy apologies. An addict making amends involves voicing an apology to anyone affected by bad behavior, but also a consistent change in outward behavior to show that a real change has taken place. Amends isn’t punishment, it is trying to make things right. When he uses this phrase in his second paragraph, what Olmsted is saying is that he recognizes how his behavior has negatively impacted the world around him and that he will work toward repaying that debt in some way. Taking personal responsibility is an important part of recovery; it reminds us that the world does not, in fact revolve around us.

Then next point of recovery-speak comes when Olmsted describes moving into a new neighborhood that is covered in litter. He looks around and in desperation quotes the Serenity Prayer, “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference” (par 4). Ironically, he used it in that moment in order to just accept his circumstances, which is the way most people use this mantra. However, an addict in recovery is trained to continually challenge answers to previously answered questions, like his decision to accept the litter. The reason revisiting an answered question is important to recovery is that the small and seemingly good solutions to a pre-addict’s problems led to a very unhelpful place; good intentions, bad results. In other words, it is good to know that we don’t know what we don’t know, we have to question everything we can. The moment when Olmsted returns to his preconceived idea about accepting litter is beautifully articulated in five short sentences, separated in three paragraphs, as if giving pause for reflection.

After all, what was I supposed to do? Pick it up?

The thought was like a pebble in my shoe. Try as I might I just couldn’t shake it loose.

So one day, I decided to do just that: Pick it up.

He had his first answer, to accept the litter in his neighborhood. Then, reexamining, his next answer; change it.

            Olmsted closes his essay with a statement that is filled with deep, personal meaning. He says that picking up litter is “unarguably, unambiguously good”. Depending on one’s beliefs regarding morality, one could debate the actual goodness of picking up litter (if one chose to spend breath on such a worthless refutation). However, Olmsted is not arguing for the goodness of litter pickup, or even the goodness of him for doing so. The fact that he picks up four (or more) bags of trash every day, tells us that he knows as well as we do that his efforts to keep his streets clean is futile; there is always more trash to collect. No, the reason that his efforts are good is that he is intentionally working toward a net positive effect that his life has on a world that will eventually forget that he ever existed. An addict in recovery is one who has looked mortality and futility in the face, and chosen to stop looking inward for the meaning of life. Olmsted falls asleep at night, not counting bags of trash (par. 8), but the small gestures he’s made for the benefit of others.

            I often wonder if it takes bad circumstances to make good people. The people in my life that have the most joy, and love, and forgiveness, are those who went through the darkest of days. And though I wish that everyone could live happy, carefree lives without pain and hurt, I’m comforted to know that those who make it through are given a new perspective that benefits us all. Olmsted freely gives us his hard-won truth, in the hopes that we can learn easier than he did:

[…] you can’t assume to know the difference between the things you must accept and the things that you can change—you have to think about it[…] from the idea that the only possible reaction to traffic is anger and frustration to the belief that I was a hopeless addict who couldn’t possibly get clean (par 7).

He may be making a small difference in the world by picking up litter in his neighborhood, but Olmsted is making a broader impact on the world by telling people how to live better. His hope is mine, that tragedy is not the only way to learn goodness, and purpose, and beauty.

Works Cited

Olmstead, Mark. “The Courage to Change the Things I Can” Transcript. This I Believe.

            30 Jan. 2019. Web. 2005-2019.