The Moral of the Milk Carton (on agency and action)

Many years ago, in a different lifetime, I found myself taking a walk near the home where I grew up. I had a lot on my mind, and I figured I needed to get some fresh air and get myself moving. As I began to walk on the nature trail—think Southern California suburbia—houses on one side, but a cliffside view of the Back Bay on the other—I was probably more in my head than actually on the trail. I don’t remember exactly what I was thinking about; I was just lost in thought as I walked.

It was only as I came right up to it that I saw it, and it startled me. There, on the trail, was an abandoned milk carton. It was as though someone had brought along milk on their walk—a strange exercise beverage, in my mind, but who am I to judge?—and then, when finished, had simply tossed the carton aside.

I was first startled; the area is usually quite clean. The only "trash" along the trail was typically fallen leaves and branches from the eucalyptus trees. But after the startle came disorientation, and then, a hot flash of annoyance.

“Who did that?” I thought. “Why throw trash on the ground?” I was getting more and more annoyed. The thing is, on that path, there are trash barrels just a short distance from where the offending milk carton lay. It seemed so unnecessary. So pointless. I could feel my indignation rising the more I thought about it.

And then, in the midst of all that self-righteous condemnation, a smaller voice chimed in.

“You could pick it up,” it said.

It was so soft I almost didn’t hear it over the internal ranting of the voice busy condemning the lazy slob who had tossed their trash aside.

“You could pick it up and throw it away.” There it was. Soft, but clear. In my condemning, I had actually kept walking, so I had to turn around and walk back a few feet. I reached down, picked up the milk carton, and continued my walk toward the trash cans.

What is the moral of this story? Is it that we need to go around picking up everyone else’s trash?

For me, that day, the lesson was this: I didn’t have to stay in my sense of being incensed. I didn’t have to stay in a state of righteous indignation. I didn’t have to "boil" about the situation. I could act. I could take action, and in doing so, I could change the situation.

I call this kind of agency "Taking the Reins."

It’s the idea of not surrendering your own sense of direction so that situations or life will simply "take you where it will." In riding, a too-loose rein is not being "nice"—it is actually being unclear. A too-tight rein is not the answer either; the answer is an engaged rein. As I was walking, bemoaning the fact that there are people in the world who throw trash in a beautiful place, I was actually taking all that "trash" into my own being. I was letting it spike my system. But in reaching down and picking up the carton, something within me reconnected: my ability to be outraged met my ability to act.

I was not powerless. I was not without options. I was not simply tossed around by forces I could not control. Sure, I cannot prevent every person from ever throwing trash again—but on that one day, in that one situation, I could change the reality of the trail.

Yesterday, as I called my representative officials for the first time ever, I was reminded of that milk carton. It is so easy to stay in the place of indignation—especially with what is going on in the world these days—but that place of indignation, without action, only causes the "trash" to fester inside of us.

It’s like what I’ve been learning from the Glucose Goddess. One of her "hacks" for flattening the glucose spikes that come after eating is "move after eating." She shows the spike from eating a piece of cake (huge) and that same piece of cake with a ten-minute walk after it (the spike is cut to almost a quarter).

The secret? Don’t just sit on the couch. Get yourself moving. Act.

You don’t have to run a marathon; you just have to move. If a walk isn't possible, do some squats. Do some toe lifts while sitting at your desk. The point is that movement—even a small amount—helps the muscles use the glucose so that it becomes beneficial energy instead of harmful inflammation.

The same is true for our agency. Are you "consuming" a lot of news that has you "spiking"? Move. Act. Remind yourself that you are not powerless. Even a small action is incredibly empowering.

That day with the milk carton was no big thing. But here we are two decades later, and I am still fueled by its lesson.

If you’re interested in exploring how to "take the reins" in your own life, join us for our monthly workshop. We gather to practice the skills of presence and intentionality, learning together how to move through the world with a bit more clarity and a lot less fear.