The Parable of Snake River Rocks
How individual activism can be very powerful.
When I was 19, I went on one last RV camping trip with my parents and younger sister. We drove through Wyoming and Montana, eventually stopping to camp by a tributary of the Snake River, under the watchful gaze of the Grand Tetons. My two older sisters were already off on their own, and it felt like the end of an era.
After a long day on the road, we settled into the campsite and wandered down to the river. For fun—and maybe to stretch our legs—we started throwing rocks into the raging water. These weren’t pebbles. These were big rocks, the kind you could barely carry. A few other kids joined in. It was fun. No one thought we’d dam the river or even shift its course. The current was strong, at least four times the normal volume. Still, we all kept tossing rocks into the same spot, laughing and splashing.
Later that evening, my family left for dinner. The next morning, I walked back to the same spot. What I saw stopped me in my tracks.
The pile of rocks had grown—dramatically. A small jetty now jutted fifteen feet into the water, built with boulders far too heavy for kids—or even one adult—to move alone. The “dam” had taken on a life of its own. Campers who had nothing to do with us must’ve spent the evening carrying rocks for fun, continuing the project we started. No one told them what to do. They just saw someone else throwing rocks and joined in.
That moment stuck with me.
Life is like a river.
And every now and then, we get to throw a rock in.
Throwing rocks is not about destruction. It’s not about fighting the current just to make a splash. It’s about contribution—about adding something solid and intentional to the flow of things. Each rock is an action, a voice, a choice. It's a reminder that you're here, and that you care.
These days, I think about that parable when I see people protesting or organizing events—small, seemingly insignificant efforts to push back against the powerful current of the world around us. Each act is like one of those rocks. It won’t change the river’s course on its own. But it’s still worth throwing, because combined, those rocks will add up.
What worries me is how few people are at the river now. Too many stand on the shore, talking about the current, analyzing the flow, or just scrolling past it.
What matters now is showing up. Bringing a rock. Throwing it in. And maybe—just maybe—others will see, and join in. Not because someone told them to. But because they want to help. Because it feels good to push back, even just a little.
No, we won’t stop the river. But we might nudge it, for a moment, in a new direction. That’s all any of us can really do in a single lifetime.
Throw your rock.
Then throw another.
And invite others to the river.
—Ray Lutz
Prior Post: Detecting Election Fraud and Responding to it.
All posts: https://substack.com/@raylutz/posts