Life Lessons from a Huckleberry

Periodically in life it’s good to take stock, to look at our lives, what we believe, what we care about, the values we hold. This year a special gift from a friend started me thinking about some values I developed very young and how they are still reflected in how I live my life. That gift was a jar of huckleberry jam.

I realized that my involvement with the enigmatic huckleberry has helped teach me some of life’s most important lessons. I call this purple, size-of-your-little-fingernail berry enigmatic, because as an element of our largely tamed and defined natural world it stubbornly retains qualities of mystery and ambiguity.

Botanically, huckleberries are as close to cranberries as they are blueberries but they are universes beyond both in taste. They are found in only limited parts of the world (luckily for me a part of the world in which I grew up). Some seasons they flourish and some season’s pickings are slim for no rhyme or reason that science or long-time pickers have figured out.

As I considered my jar of huckleberry jam, I realized that the berry is very intertwined with values I was pondering as I thought about my life. Finding joy in a loving family, respecting others who are different from me, benefiting from a quiet mind, and more.

Some of the strongest and most pleasant memories of family I have are of huckleberrying days. Mom, dad, uncles, cousins, grandparents, lunch basket’s packed, would pile into cars and head out for a day in the woods. There was teasing, and sharing and chatting and just plain having fun together undistracted by tv’s and telephones. Everyone enjoyed a common quest for the most amazing treat and looked forward to sharing delicious pies and jams on cold winter days.

To serious, seasoned pickers, the location of a good huckleberry patch is kept close to the vest, so to speak. Knowledge of its location is gold and rarely openly shared. My family, though, was different. My Dad would scout prime huckleberry patches then my folks would always invite, in fact, bring along friends to join in our picking adventures.

There was Olga Rima, known to us as Ollie. A single Jewish lady, a recent immigrant from war torn Germany my family had befriended. There she’d be with her unfamiliar accent, from a religion we knew nothing about, happily picking berries with us, laughing and enjoying those days. And there was Glen, a mentally challenged family friend. Very shy, this little man was full of smiles and loved being “part of the family” on these special huckleberrying days. It was those kinds of days that taught me everyone, however different from myself, is my equal and is deserving of kindness and respect.

As a psychological professional I teach folks a modern form of meditation, now called mental training. I teach about the benefits to both mind and body of quieting the mind and resting the body daily. Growing up I hadn’t heard about meditation or it’s benefits. I certainly knew the pleasure of it though, and how it made me feel. That knowledge came from time spent alone in quiet contemplation in a huckleberry patch. There was a special feeling as one sat picking huckleberries high in the mountains under a clear sky hearing nothing but the buzzing of the pollinating bees, the rustle of brush, the calls of birds. My father, who knew little of psychology, knew too of its therapeutic effects. After mother died, the grandparents were gone and we kids had moved away, my dad would often return to the mountains, to those huckleberry patches. He would sit alone, in quiet contemplation, experiencing the ultimate in meditation.

There were other lessons to be had from a huckleberry. It’s stubborn refusal to be domesticated is a testament to individuality, an example of something living life by its own rules. The huckleberry may look to you like a blueberry but is worlds apart in taste. A lesson in how one must be discriminating and not just make assumptions on outward appearances. Huckleberry picking can also teach restraint if you fancy those jams and pies as it is tempting while picking to savor as many as you save.