Before moving to Finland, I had never been out of the US (except Mexico and a Caribbean Cruise). Despite that, or maybe because of it, I’ve always had a fascination with ruins, particularly castle ruins. Imagining what the walls and floor and ceiling used to look like, who lived there, how they lived, touching a wall and wondering how many other people had touched that same spot over the last five or six or ten centuries, who they were, what thoughts were going through their head.
A former beau told me this story from his visit to Rome. His tour guide took the group into this back alley, nothing special about it, no signs or markings or anything. There was a well there. She showed them this smooth spot on the well, had them run their hand over it. “Feel how smooth it is, how it’s worn down? That’s because people for centuries have been coming here for water, and that’s where they rested their hand while pulling up the bucket.”
I love that story. It’s so remarkable in it’s normalness.
Your actions, even the smallest, most common ones, can reverberate through time, into the future. They can connect you to a stranger, make them feel something. Inspire them.