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Becoming what we love

As we enjoyed our first wild blackberry feast on the Solstice, I smiled remembering how our beloved Pablo loved eating them with me, straight off the vines. Never mind those briars: dig your face right on in.

A huge heart housed in sheer force, Pablo had resonance with the wounded warrior archetype. When I adopted him, he had many scars on his legs and feet. Pain never stopped him. He reinjured himself often; the wounds would reopen and bleed. He would have (and may have) died to protect us. Threats come in physical and non-physical forms.

We planted yarrow, Achillea millefolium, on his grave. Named to commemorate the hero Achilles, it felt like the right medicine to continue healing these wounds. Yes, even post-death, Pablo's body is being tended by the living plant and his spirit by the spirit of yarrow. The yarrow we planted on his grave is thriving beyond our expectations. The alchemy of Pablo and yarrow spirit will indeed make some good medicine for the living.

However, the sour cherry tree we planted on his gravesite is struggling. Last week, Jonathan heard the message: plant fruit that he loved. He loved sweet cherries, not these little sour ones. And, the Solstice grazing reminded me of his love of blackberries. A timely nudge as we consider a new planting. Why not offer the remaining life energy in our bodies to nourish or become what we loved?

Pablo rarely came when called by name, but he'd come running for milk. Almost two years later, we still sometimes we take milk offerings to his grave and call "milk!" Every time we do, I feel his spirit running towards us, his beloved presence, his huge heart and even his velveteen coat