Blackberry Wrangling: Next Best Thing to Therapy?

 

 

Sometimes I am a little slow.

I know that when I am feeling anxious or glum (See my post from last week if you missed it), a surefire remedy for the sadness is to go outside and tackle my blackberry patch. I don’t think this work has ever failed me.

I sometimes have massage clients ask me questions about me. Not very often. It’s rare and sweet. I don’t expect it. I am generally the one who asks the questions: How are you? Where are you hurting? Is anything changing through our work together? What can I do for you today?

When they do ask questions, the most common one is “Do you ever get massages?”

(Yes. I have a friend who is a wonderful therapist. We try to do trades once a month. I had a massage just this week, actually.)

And, kind of surprisingly, they sometimes ask, “What do you do for fun?”

Give massages, of course! And substitute teach! 

I don’t think anyone would really buy that.

I answer that I like to garden and read (although you wouldn’t know it by the number of books I finish. A more honest response would be, “I like to check books out from the library, put them by my bed, and pick one out to look at for a minute or so before I fall asleep every night). I also like to cook interesting dishes. I bought some Berbere seasoning on Amazon not long ago and love making an Ethiopian chicken dish. It’s not difficult. Just time consuming. And the flavor!

That’s all true.

I made a surprising discovery today, though.

I realized that one thing that is genuinely fun for me is slashing blackberry bushes with my heavy duty clippers.

I just love that!

I love making the right cut and pulling out a twelve foot vine. I love working my way to the bottom of the old, thick brambles and discovering bare soil underneath. I love wandering down by the creek and slipping off a rock and getting my tennis shoes wet. I love that I’ve outsmarted the berries, that I can yank at them because I’m wearing two pairs of sturdy gloves. I love that I’ve managed to get rid of berries on one big swath of our property. Still a long way to go, but I’ve made a difference.

Maybe the best thing about working with the berries? The meditative part of it. When I’m out there, looking for the best vines to chop, I forget  everything else. I really do. The worries that were sitting on my shoulder when I put on my gloves, picked up the clippers, and tromped down to the creek? They disappear. It’s magic. They go away, and I work for a time, usually too long.  I tire myself out more than I should. Once I start, I can see progress, and it’s hard to stop. When I do finally stop, I feel better. I feel empty and clean and at peace.

So when the worries roll in, and when the anxiety lodges in me (like it has been doing a lot lately. For obvious reasons.), I need to remember the berries. I don’t know why it’s so hard to make myself go out there sometimes, why I resist it, especially since once I’m there, I hate to come back in and wish I had more time.

The berries are not Lexapro or therapy. But there is something healing for me about being out there with them. Maybe I’ll head back out tomorrow. Yes. I will head out tomorrow. Even for a few minutes. To see where that takes me.