experience
Wherever we dig, we’re bound to find some depth. Sometimes, it leads away from our rooted understanding, and what once seemed simple takes on new meaning. Eating from the earth is one of these things. Region to region, season to season, the earth offers itself freely, with gifts in the form of nourishment. And it expects nothing in return, knowing that it will eventually gain from the act of giving. When a flower blooms, it becomes food for insects, who also pollinate it before becoming food themselves, and everything returns to the earth. This momentum continues perpetually. It’s not an exchange of value, but mutual benefit – a quiet commerce that trades in common good. When we eat from the earth something ripe and ready for harvest, we’re not attempting to rush or change it. Instead, we change. Our expectations and way of living are reframed in line with the reciprocity inherent to the natural world, of which we are a part. Maybe that’s why it feels so good to enjoy vegetables grown in a garden, or meat from a field rather than a factory. It isn’t just about the quality or it being free-range, but the unseen sweetness of a gift, something more sincere and generous than a product that is bought or sold.
Wherever we dig, we’re bound to find some depth. And a gift lives underneath its facade. It can be a thought, an “I thought of you…”, a fond memory, or a remark you didn’t know they’d remembered. It can be a taste of heritage passed down. A story personified – and sharing stories is what we, as humans, do. Robin Wall Kimmerer writes that giving begets giving, and a gift stays in motion. Those who take from the earth tend to it in turn, so we can all continue enjoying its gifts. They prepare meals with care and respect, then receive thanks, assurance, or an invitation to the table. These become a recipe passed on, a recommendation, or the impetus and inspiration to start growing one’s own food. We may not think of these things as gifts, but they are. Food brings us together around a table, but it’s the vulnerable act of giving that dissolves the boundaries between self and other, creating community around something shared. When we return to eating from the earth, we take with us this lesson from nature: that a gift carries no obligation – only the potential to change us and inspire us to give again. We’ve been inspired lately by Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book, The Serviceberry.
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