The Serviceberry - Part One
Photo of the book The Serviceberry by Robin Wall Kimmerer with dried flowers around it
The world is changing and it feels far from the change that we need, and yet we are here, somehow humanity is here. We are firmly in what Francis Weller calls The Long Dark, a time of collapse and decay. The Long Dark is necessary, we’re in a collective initiation where we are all needed.
The dark is vital, just like the darkness of nightfall, the darkness of Winter, the darkness of the womb and the soil. Without darkness life wouldn’t exist. Seeds wouldn’t grown, plant life, human life, animal life, all come from the depths of darkness.
I spoke to Holly Truhlar about The Long Dark last week, you can listen to it on Instagram. She reminded me of how when I was a little girl I used to sit in the dark, it was something I was both fearful of, but also a place where I felt at home. I used to sit and let my eyes adjust, and watch how it got darker the deeper into the night. I could see the dark getting darker. I don’t feel so fearful any more of the dark at night, but the darkness we’re facing into is different.
There would have been a time when I would look upon the world in despair, with a longing of hope grounded in nothing. It’s different now. We’re in a time of collapse AND I also hear the whispers of change, sometimes louder than a whisper. There are many people doing so much good in the world, I hear the narrative changing, I see more and more people leaning into the harms that have been done and advocating for a different world. More people marching, protesting, advocating and speaking out. People reimagining a different world. This gives me hope, this motivates me to do more in the world. To come together, to tend to the hearts and souls of human life, of community, and to the soul of the world.
I read The Serviceberry - An economy of Gifts and Abundance by Robin Wall Kimmerer, over Christmas. I started reading it on Christmas Day and didn’t stop until I’d finished it. As a botanist Robin Wall Kimmerer explores the economy through the lens of Mother Nature, through plants and The Serviceberry. It’s beautiful and mind-expanding. The book expands on her essay of the same name. Robin explores the traditional definitions of a market economy versus a relational gift economy.
In a Serviceberry economy, I accept the gift from the tree and then spread that gift around, with a dish of berries to my neighbour, who makes a pie to share with his friend, who feels so wealthy in food and friendship that he volunteers at the food pantry. You know how it goes.
In contrast, if I were to buy a basket of berries in a market economy, the relationship ends with the exchange of money. Once I hand over my credit card, I have no further exchange with the clerk or the store. We’re done. I own these berries now and can do with them what I like. The clerk, the corporation, and I - the customer - have a strictly material transaction. There is no making of community, only a trading of commodities. Think of how strange - but wonderful - it would feel if you met the clerk on the street and they asked you for your recipe for the Serviceberry pie. That would be out-of-bounds. But if those berries were a gift you’d probably still be chatting.
There is so much wisdom in this book and it also offers a sense of possibility, possibility of a different world, outside the Western, capitalist oppression. This is the world I hope for. This is the world my heart and soul longs for. One of reciprocity, generosity, of community and sharing our abundance in the “belly of our brothers [and sisters]” - you’ll have to read the essay or book for this reference.
We live in a world where scarcity holds us in fear. Robin gives several references of market economics which has scarcity at it’s heart, how can we not be fearful when that is how we’ve been taught to live? When these are the very systems we live in? Where scarcity reigns and power wins?
Robin plants the seeds of hope in her book, a different world where a gift economy could give us the things we really long for, that we really truly desire, belonging, love, affection, nourishment, community, togetherness, equanimity, equality.
Francis says that he uses the word “long” because The Long Dark will be here for at least two generations. I don’t say this with despair. For me this means what we do now, will impact the future, that our actions matter now.
And so I may not see this world in my lifetime, but I will make sure I plant the seeds of change now, for my children and the generations to come.
I don’t know it all, I never could (I could say more on this, in terms of the systems we live in but I’ll leave that for another day) - but I will spend my lifetime trying, and in all the undoing, I can allow that to be enough.
Changing the world doesn’t look like one big action, it’s many actions, by many people. Robin says “we live in a time where every choice matters” and so I’ll keep making choices and you can do the same.
At times like this I turn to the places where I can breathe. We need each other in The Long Dark, we cannot do it alone, tending to each other, caring for each other, nourishing each other - may seem like a small act, but it’s cumulative and it’s needed.
These are some of the places, books and people I turn to - some challenge me, some ask more of me, some soften my heart and my soul - we need it all.
Erin Geesaman Rabke + Carl Rabke
My beloved friends and family
The Serviceberry, by Robin Wall Kimmerer
The Wild Edge of Sorrow, by Francis Weller
The Smell of Rain on Dust, by Martìn Prechtal
Poems and poetry - Stripped by Liezel Graham calls me time and time again
And Mother Nature, Mother Earth in all her glory. The ocean, the trees, the birds and the bees. Just look out the window, take a moment now and turn towards the window, and breathe. There may be animal friends too, perhaps the horses, the dogs, the deer.
There are so many people doing good in the world, when despair comes in, and I’m wondering if despair may just be necessary right now, turn to the places and people that feed you. Turn to nature, turn to community, turn to love, compassion and affection. And keep making choices in service of our world.
Perhaps in the noise of power, we can hear the whispers of change?
I cherish the notion of the gift economy, that we might back away from the grinding system, which reduces everything to a commodity and leaves most of us bereft of what we really want: a sense of belonging and relationship and purpose and beauty …
Robin Wall Kimmerer
