Blackberries & Grace

I saw M today—usually just a quick hello on the trail.
But this time, she asked if I wanted to go pick blackberries.

Honestly, I wasn’t in the mood for human contact.
I’d broken wide open before even reaching the trailhead—grieving all kinds of loss.
Everything felt sharp. Heavy. Private.

But something told me not to say no.
So I didn’t. And I’m glad.

She’s maybe ten years older than me. Not old. I’m not young.
But she carries that bright, spry energy that feels timeless.
Joyful. Warm. Contagious in the best way.

We walked together, made small talk, praised the fog and the wind—
apparently, we both like the trail best when it feels wild.

When we reached the blackberry patch, I kept her dog company
as she wandered off into the brambles.

I watched her go, eyes lit up, pure delight on her face—
like she was discovering this for the first time.
A grown woman marveling at the magic
of finding something sweet in the wild.

It hit me.

Just an hour earlier, I’d been grieving the fact
that I never really got to feel that.
If I ever did, it was swallowed up by the fight-or-flight hypervigilance
I’ve lived in since I was four.

As a child, joy rarely got through the static.
But here it was—unannounced, spontaneous, offered by someone I barely knew.

Who says the universe doesn’t provide?
You just have to be open to it.

Before I even stepped out of the car,
I’d decided I needed to grind through my shit alone.
Push through. Be strong.

But today, I got to just be.
To see.
To experience.
To connect.

→ Explore more Field Notes
→ Related: Connection, Not Completion

Keep momentum:

Do a 2–5 min ritual — quick reset for low-capacity moments.

Build capacity — sleep, basics, and minimums that matter.

Reflect for a minute — short reads with a long tail of calm.