All Fourishing is Mutual

In her poignant writing and narration, “The Serviceberry: An Economy of Abundance,” Robin Wall Kimmerer captured my imagination and my heart. While harvesting serviceberries alongside the birds, Kimmerer asks, “How can we learn from Indigenous wisdom and ecological systems to reimagine currencies of exchange?” Her attentiveness to this abundant fruit bearing tree, teaches Kimmerer of a different economy. One of Gift. Reciprocity. Abundance.

“In summer, when the boughs are laden, Serviceberry produces an abundance of sugar. Does it hoard that energy for itself? No, it invites the birds to a feast. Come, my relatives, fill your bellies, say the Serviceberries. Are they not storing their meat in the bellies of their brothers and sisters—the Jays, the Thrashers, and the Robins?

Isn’t this an economy? A system of distribution of goods and services that meets the needs of the community? The currency of this economic system is energy, which flows through it, and materials, which cycle among the producers and the consumers. It is a system for redistribution of wealth, an exchange of goods and services. Each member has an abundance of something, which they offer to others. The abundance of berries goes to the birds—for, what use are berries to the tree other than a way to make relationships with birds?

Eating too many berries has the same effect on birds as it does on people. Fuchsia splats decorate the fence posts. This of course is the whole point of berries—to make themselves so irresistible and plentiful that birds will come and feast, as we are doing this evening, and then distribute the seeds far and wide. Feasting has another benefit. Passage through a bird gut scarifies the seeds to stimulate germination. The birds provide services to the Serviceberries, who provide for them in return. The relationships created by the gift weave myriad relations between insects and microbes and root systems. The gift is multiplied with every giving, until it returns so rich and sweet that it burbles forth as the birdsong that wakes me in the morning. If the abundance had been hoarded, if Juneberries acted solely for their own benefit, the forest would be diminished.”

Gratitude and reciprocity are the currency of this gift economy. “They multiply with every exchange, their energy concentrating as they pass from hand to hand, a truly renewable resource,” says Kimmerer.

We all know what this might look like in our communities. I receive the gift of figs from the abundance of my fig tree and then share this gift through a basket of figs with my neighbor, who makes fig jam to share with his friend, who then feels so full in deliciousness and friendship that she makes a meal for someone in need. Kimmerer goes on. “To name the world as gift is to feel one’s membership in the web of reciprocity.” To have eyes to see the world as gift, changes our relationship to it. We respond to it differently. We begin to cherish it. We feel rich in abundance.

I planted a serviceberry this past year. Each day I check on its’ tiny buds hoping that the Spring frost does not tamper with its new growth. I want to witness this tree’s abundant offerings. I want to see the Jays, and Thrashers, and Robins, a sight unto itself, dive into the limbs, picking up its’ fruit. I want to see their droppings upon the fence posts and grass, germinating into another tree of sustenance and provision. I want to pick a ripe berry for my belly and offer another for my neighbor. I want to take this learning into my community and embody its’ teaching as a farmer and witness one day a neighborhood, a community, a world living out of abundance.