I don’t schedule much in the morning because it takes me a while to get up to speed. Meditation, journaling, stretching and strengthening, wandering with the dogs, time with whatever two cents I’m writing. And while I try not to get sidetracked, I also want to stay open to whatever surprises the universe is itching to tickle me with.
Like the morning a month ago when, out with the boys, I happened to pass our two blueberry bushes and heard a chorus of plump little sweethearts singing, “Hey, we’re ripe. Get busy.”
There was a certain urgency to their tone. No doubt from the complete absence of picking last summer. The suicide of my beloved, the harvester, leaving them abandoned in full florescence.
So began a change of plans for the next few mornings. Among its gifts: a reminder of just how I want to die.
My first objective was to make sure I didn’t overlook plucking a single ripe berry. Having survived the vicissitudes of the seasons they were bursting with readiness to fulfill their destiny. My privilege was to facilitate that transition in a way that would honor their existence as best I knew how: savoring and celebrating their nourishing of heart, mind and tongue.
“Take me, use me, allow me to serve,” is a mantra heard the earth over at harvest time. Chanted by those robust little ones gathering in my beloved’s favorite bowl awakened my heart anew. That’s what I want to be singing, I said to myself, when God approaches with the news, “Your table’s ready,” as the late Robin Williams put it.
My beloved was a good teacher of just how to do that.
For as long as we were together, some 45 years, among the ways she characterized her deepest aspirations was, “I don’t want to die afraid.”
Big goals like that are tricky. For one thing, they’re a full-time job.
A peaceful heart. An effective parent. Tiddlywinks champ. Even avoider of pain, and denier of the harm our ignorance creates. There is no vacation from the demands of our passions. Whether life-affirming (to look at what’s in front of us through the eyes of love), or otherwise.
To the extent my beloved died unafraid, it occurred because learning to live unafraid was her life’s work.
As it is mine. And because, for me, the challenge is extraordinary, I cherish all the loving support I can get, from every conceivable source.
Now including blueberries, delightfully.
Hours after my best friend died 10 years ago I went to her garden to gather flower petals. To use in making an infused water to wash her body with. I heard each flower shout the very same things you heard from these blueberries. Take me, use me, allow me to serve. Thank you for gathering and passing along this bouquet of words ❤️