The screech of a scrub jay as it chases one of the crows causes me to look up with a start. The full moon still drifts across the morning sky off to the west as I make my way to the blackberry vines at the edge of a ravine. Reaching deep into the vines, I search for the summer's remainder of fruit. As I pull out my reward and pop several berries into my mouth, the scratches on my arms begin to fill with blood. The berries sweet in my mouth, purple juice staining my fingers with deep rich color, I do not heed the sting.
On this ripening autumn day in the here and now, these memories flood in. What I remember, what I feel, rushes in as if real in this moment. In that orchard at my grandparents' home I always felt I was in a state of grace. Filled with the joys that childhood explorations held for me, I knew peace. What I now realize is that those moments — those joys — are still with me. The stings and bites that living provides can be erased in a moment's remembrance.
We can choose to dwell in fear. How easy it can be. Everywhere there are reminders that there is much to fear. Feeling powerless, it can then be a short step to overwhelming depression.
We may choose to hold grudges and to live in past hurts and misunderstandings. We can allow petty grievances and jealousies to cloud our judgment. Well-meaning friends may even encourage some of these. Or … we can grab hold of life's joys and squeeze every ounce of rich purple juice out of them, licking our fingers to get the very last of it.