Blackberry Roulette The Sound of Landing
The Unexpected Prize in My Backyard
Years ago, when we lived in South Florida, we took a lot of cruises.
Sometimes I would spend half an hour playing roulette.
The wheel would spin one way.
The silver ball would spin the other.
There was anticipation, of course. Maybe it would land on my number. Maybe it wouldn’t.
But looking back, I realize there was something else I enjoyed.
The sound.
The click of the ball dropping into its slot.
The moment when uncertainty became certainty.
The moment when it landed.
This morning I was picking blackberries.
I have a small picking basket attached to an extension pole so I can reach berries growing just beyond the wall in my backyard.
I would spot a berry, guide the basket underneath it, slide the picker around the stem, and wait.
Then it would happen.
The berry would drop into the basket.
Tick.
Another one.
Tick.
Another one.
Tick.
At some point I realized I wasn’t just enjoying the blackberries.
I was enjoying the sound.
It was the same sound I hear when a golf ball falls into the cup.
The same satisfaction as the old mechanical slot machines when the coins dropped.
The same feeling as the roulette ball finding its place.
Perhaps part of contentment comes from these tiny moments of completion.
Something seen.
Something reached for.
Something gathered.
Then the small sound that says:
There.
That one is done.
And then another.
And another.
Not every blackberry was perfectly ripe.
Not every spin of the roulette wheel was a winner.
Not every golf shot found the cup.
But that wasn’t really the point.
This morning I realized the blackberry bush had become a kind of natural roulette wheel.
I would spot a berry, guide the picker underneath it, wait for the stem to release, and listen.
Tick.
Another one in the basket.
The prize was not money.
The prize was the simple satisfaction of hearing another berry find the bottom of the bucket.
Then finding the next one.
Spiritual Gravity 