Strawberry Fields Impermanently

"Let me take you down 'cause I'm going to..."

...Jones Family Farms in this case.  It was the end of the season, and I wanted to be sure to get some fresh strawberries. I'm always amazed that fresh-picked strawberries are so juicy, unlike store bought which tend more toward crunchy. 

The folks at Jones will give you a large box before you go out into the field.  But this single chick figured better take just one plastic container of my own, and when it was full, that was it.

While it was a hot and sticky day downtown, up on Pumpkin Seed Hill the wind blew refreshingly over those of us picking in between the rows.  You have to be very careful not to step on trailing vines or bump into overly ripe fruit.  In this approach to the task, I experienced something like reverence.  The act of kneeling, moving slowly, and gingerly pinching the stems made me mindful not only of the berries but of the day and those around me.  The leaves felt leathery and hearty.   I could hear a mother with her children giggling through the rows with evidence of sampling on their chins.

The picking became a meditation that I did not wish to end.  Everything was so perfect.  But my container was filling up.  A dialog began in my head.  "I wish I had another container."  "Why?"  "I'd like to pick more!"  "But you know you can't eat more. They'll just go bad, and you'll throw them out."  "True.  When the container is full I will stop and have just what I need and want."  "Enough" is a difficult concept for our consumer society.  We don't want to run out of things or let go of gorgeous experiences.  But if they are always there, they becomes commonplace.  We miss what made them special.  We toss the unused portions into the compost bin.

The next time you go to a store, just check in with yourself without judgments.  Are you shopping  only for necessities?  If something not on the list strikes your fancy, do you put it in the carriage?  Are you standing in front of the jam section looking at the ten different brands trying to decide which to buy?  Do you remember when your city had a power outage, and you were staring at the last jar of mint jelly on the shelf?  Permanence.  Impermanence.  Enough.  Too much.  Not enough.  I just offer this as an idea to play with.  You may find by exploring these words you examine whether you are living a particular moment on purpose or on autopilot, in the past, future, or present.  Nothing more.  But maybe the awareness is enough.  Savor your awareness.  It's so juicy!

Pax tecum.