Plastic cup

I dropped a plastic cup. It was just a plastic cup. Nothing special really. Except you could measure out different amounts of liquid because it had scales on it. I used them once.

The dropping bit was alright. It didn’t hurt anyone. I dropped it in the mountains. In Ladakh in Northern India. It is beautiful there. And harsh. A landscape of consequence and power. It makes you feel very small.

But I can’t forget the cup. It is still there of course. But it shouldn’t be. It wont biodegrade. Not for a very long time. Maybe it will be washed into the Zanskar river. And then where? And then what? Not a big deal? It was only one cup?

But? There are over 6billion of us dropping our cups. Except mine was in a beautiful place. A wild place. And I shouldn’t have dropped it.

What if I had dropped a bamboo cup or a pottery cup? It would have disintegrated by now. Become part of the landscape. I think about that. A little thing. But perhaps a big deal. Especially for sea creatures. And I like fish and chips without added plastic.

I’m going to buy a bamboo cup. And try not to be so clumsy.

Wild Yonder