Make Me Sweet Again
Make me sweet again,
fragrant and fresh and wild,
and thankful for any small gesture.
~ Rumi
Make me sweet again,
fragrant and fresh and wild,
and thankful for any small gesture.
~ Rumi
Have you ever been walking along in a hurry and a stranger wants to talk? You have places you want and/or need to be and this is the last thing you feel you have time for…yet a small voice, an instinct says “pause, listen”. That happened to me today. I have been in Vail, CO for the past week, staying at my partner’s townhome seeking a respite from the structure of my regular life. I was on the trail returning from a hike to a rock called: “Lion’s Head”. This rock truly looks (from over a thousand feet below) like a majestic lion king.
My golden retriever (Dolce) was rumbling down the hill when I spotted a woman bent over in the bushes clearly focused upon her task at hand. As I called Dolce back, the woman peered up at me and said: “Oh, it’s ok, I’m just here picking berries.” Arriving within 10 feet of her, she began talking to me as if we had been friends for 30 years.
She shared that as a child she was told that thimbleberries were only found in Michigan, that she had fond memories of picking them and that her discovery of them in Colorado was purely by chance. She declared the thimbleberry season to be uncharacteristically abundant and wondered aloud if I had been out picking. Well, of course I hadn’t because until this meeting, I wasn’t sure if they were poisonous or not. She quickly clarified for me that no, they were not poisonous and in fact, they make the very best berry jam one could imagine. Without pause, she gave me her tried and true recipe.
Two cups of thimbleberries boiled with two cups of sugar for two minutes. That’s it.
No gelatin, no fuss. However, she warned, “you can’t get rid of the seeds” and “don’t wash them ‘cuz that takes away the natural pectin”. No worries, the seeds are very small adding a quite nice texture and a nutty flavor. She handed me a few berries,
encouraging: “here, try ‘em”. They are brilliant and I am pleased to note that I now have something I can survive off of should I find myself lost in the Colorado forest with no food (as I am classically out hiking with little provision and zero preparation for the
worst).
As I was leaning out of the conversation and intending to make my way down to the litany of important things I thought I had to do, she popped out of the bushes, looked me straight in the eyes and said: “I make great crabapple and jalapeño jam too.” She gave me that recipe and her top secret trick to keep the flavor in the apples. She also informed me of the location of the two crab apple trees out back beyond the Costco. At this point, I made the pivotal decision. This woman had beauty to share. I could walk away, back to my car, my Iphone, my laptop and what I would be walking away from was an opportunity for genuine human connection – something each of craves in this day of infinite technological “connection”. I’d be walking away from loving another if only for a few brief, sweet moments. She was wise, experienced, and something told me there was something I was supposed to learn from her. I settled in a bit. She shared that she had lived in the region for over thirty years, that her brother and sister were both Olympic ski racers, that her brother once owned a well-known company that made ski poles and another company; a top-name bike label. She randomly shared that she gives one case of thimbleberry jam to her brother, one case to her sister but only a half case to her son who by the way works for Prana clothing so she gets stupendous deals!
She asked how I got to Colorado and what I did here. I shared that I don’t work right now, that I left my home and small business in CA, moved into my RV and had been
traveling for the past year and a half. She asked what I did. I told her I was an architect but that I was commencing on a new career here in Expansive Life Coaching and working on a book about Integrative Healing. She nodded, said “hmmm, an architect” and proudly declared that the history of her brother and sister could be found in the Colorado ski museum. She gave me their names…last name Ferrie. Then she said: “imagine how much teasing we took as kids.” They were always being called the gay family and kids said things like “here comes the little fairies.” She said her friends sometimes complain about the gay rights campaign and reminisce that being gay wasn’t an issue “back then” and that people didn’t have a clue about gays. She says she tells them they don’t know what they’re talking about as she was teased relentlessly as a kid and that the other children were very aware that gay meant different, unaccepted. She shared that she’s glad there’s some reprieve now, that the government shouldn’t be regulating who sleeps with who and what people do in the privacy of their bedrooms. She said she’s glad to see that we (and I took this “we” to mean our entire culture of humans) can move on with this issue and let people be, let them love.
Without so much as a breath and still deftly picking berries, she next spoke of an article she read that somewhere in the Dakotas they were proposing a law making abortion illegal after 6 weeks into the pregnancy. She said “six weeks, most women don’t even know they are pregnant in the first six weeks!” As she gracefully moved from bush to bush collecting the desired berries, her fingers and jeans stained crimson red, she blurted “they need to stop trying to regulate my body.” I loved this, coming as it was from a woman who was likely near one side or the other of 70.
As the rain gently began to drizzle, we said our goodbyes, she, so endearing, so filled with love saying “be safe Darling and don’t get too wet!” Although I said few words during this exchange, I felt understood and a deep sense of community; I was touched by this courageous being who shared herself with abandon with me…a total stranger.
“Am I?” I ask myself now, later, in reflection. What I learned from her was sincere, non-defensive, personal, experiential sharing about subjects that have at times shattered our unity as a country, incited hate crimes, caused death and cost millions of dollars in political campaign funds can (and did in our case) create connection reminding us that we are all in it together. Our interaction was a lesson to me. I am encouraged to pause, to let life flow on it’s very own current and to be carried into the sweet moments where feeling connected to everything and everyone is possible; where we are thankful for any small gesture.
Can you find the time to pause today?
My golden retriever (Dolce) was rumbling down the hill when I spotted a woman bent over in the bushes clearly focused upon her task at hand. As I called Dolce back, the woman peered up at me and said: “Oh, it’s ok, I’m just here picking berries.” Arriving within 10 feet of her, she began talking to me as if we had been friends for 30 years.
She shared that as a child she was told that thimbleberries were only found in Michigan, that she had fond memories of picking them and that her discovery of them in Colorado was purely by chance. She declared the thimbleberry season to be uncharacteristically abundant and wondered aloud if I had been out picking. Well, of course I hadn’t because until this meeting, I wasn’t sure if they were poisonous or not. She quickly clarified for me that no, they were not poisonous and in fact, they make the very best berry jam one could imagine. Without pause, she gave me her tried and true recipe.
Two cups of thimbleberries boiled with two cups of sugar for two minutes. That’s it.
No gelatin, no fuss. However, she warned, “you can’t get rid of the seeds” and “don’t wash them ‘cuz that takes away the natural pectin”. No worries, the seeds are very small adding a quite nice texture and a nutty flavor. She handed me a few berries,
encouraging: “here, try ‘em”. They are brilliant and I am pleased to note that I now have something I can survive off of should I find myself lost in the Colorado forest with no food (as I am classically out hiking with little provision and zero preparation for the
worst).
As I was leaning out of the conversation and intending to make my way down to the litany of important things I thought I had to do, she popped out of the bushes, looked me straight in the eyes and said: “I make great crabapple and jalapeño jam too.” She gave me that recipe and her top secret trick to keep the flavor in the apples. She also informed me of the location of the two crab apple trees out back beyond the Costco. At this point, I made the pivotal decision. This woman had beauty to share. I could walk away, back to my car, my Iphone, my laptop and what I would be walking away from was an opportunity for genuine human connection – something each of craves in this day of infinite technological “connection”. I’d be walking away from loving another if only for a few brief, sweet moments. She was wise, experienced, and something told me there was something I was supposed to learn from her. I settled in a bit. She shared that she had lived in the region for over thirty years, that her brother and sister were both Olympic ski racers, that her brother once owned a well-known company that made ski poles and another company; a top-name bike label. She randomly shared that she gives one case of thimbleberry jam to her brother, one case to her sister but only a half case to her son who by the way works for Prana clothing so she gets stupendous deals!
She asked how I got to Colorado and what I did here. I shared that I don’t work right now, that I left my home and small business in CA, moved into my RV and had been
traveling for the past year and a half. She asked what I did. I told her I was an architect but that I was commencing on a new career here in Expansive Life Coaching and working on a book about Integrative Healing. She nodded, said “hmmm, an architect” and proudly declared that the history of her brother and sister could be found in the Colorado ski museum. She gave me their names…last name Ferrie. Then she said: “imagine how much teasing we took as kids.” They were always being called the gay family and kids said things like “here comes the little fairies.” She said her friends sometimes complain about the gay rights campaign and reminisce that being gay wasn’t an issue “back then” and that people didn’t have a clue about gays. She says she tells them they don’t know what they’re talking about as she was teased relentlessly as a kid and that the other children were very aware that gay meant different, unaccepted. She shared that she’s glad there’s some reprieve now, that the government shouldn’t be regulating who sleeps with who and what people do in the privacy of their bedrooms. She said she’s glad to see that we (and I took this “we” to mean our entire culture of humans) can move on with this issue and let people be, let them love.
Without so much as a breath and still deftly picking berries, she next spoke of an article she read that somewhere in the Dakotas they were proposing a law making abortion illegal after 6 weeks into the pregnancy. She said “six weeks, most women don’t even know they are pregnant in the first six weeks!” As she gracefully moved from bush to bush collecting the desired berries, her fingers and jeans stained crimson red, she blurted “they need to stop trying to regulate my body.” I loved this, coming as it was from a woman who was likely near one side or the other of 70.
As the rain gently began to drizzle, we said our goodbyes, she, so endearing, so filled with love saying “be safe Darling and don’t get too wet!” Although I said few words during this exchange, I felt understood and a deep sense of community; I was touched by this courageous being who shared herself with abandon with me…a total stranger.
“Am I?” I ask myself now, later, in reflection. What I learned from her was sincere, non-defensive, personal, experiential sharing about subjects that have at times shattered our unity as a country, incited hate crimes, caused death and cost millions of dollars in political campaign funds can (and did in our case) create connection reminding us that we are all in it together. Our interaction was a lesson to me. I am encouraged to pause, to let life flow on it’s very own current and to be carried into the sweet moments where feeling connected to everything and everyone is possible; where we are thankful for any small gesture.
Can you find the time to pause today?
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