On my walk there are rocks available. Not a lot. You kind of have to know where to look. Many times I have picked up one, two, or three rocks and thrown them at trees. I know this seems like a mean way to treat a tree, to throw rocks at it. Not to mention all the tiny and very tiny organisms making a living on or in the tree whose lives would never be the same after the day the meteor hit.
My selfish calculation puts my awareness above theirs, and concludes that the increase in my happiness that comes from throwing a rock that hits its target is more than the decrease in theirs, so it’s okay.
This rationalization creates a fountain from which can spring a jolt of joy when something like what happened yesterday happens. I picked up one rock. I threw it really hard at the strike zone of a tree. I nailed the exact spot I was aiming at — THUNK! — and then, nothing. No more movement. No more sound. Wha???
At that moment I felt like I would never need to throw another rock. To those organisms who gave their lives that I might have that feeling, thank you.