Jackfruits and Life

Two weeks ago we gathered some pepper leaves from my husband’s little garden, for a Pinoy chicken soup that my sister and I had been salivating about for a couple of days. The pepper plants, three of them, are now bent low, loaded with fruits from bottom to top! It never gave us this much fruit during the warmer, comfortable summer, and now, this, when the weather has started to turn cold, and winter is at the door?

Our agriculturist cousin, she said, told her that this is a common occurrence in plants. They try their best to propagate when they are threatened.

An example, she said, is their jackfruit tree right in front of their house next to the road. One of its main roots was cut when the road was widened, and this tree which had been ordinary (meaning scarce, perhaps?) in its fruit production in the past began to bear more fruit which are sweeter and juicier than its previous fruits.

When I shared this with some friends, they admitted that this is known to farmers. They hack the trunk of the jackfruit in several places, wounding but not killing it, in order to gain a better harvest of fruits.

This is so new to me, and it amazes me that plants and people are not so different at all. As soon as we realize that our mortality is real, and that our lives will end sooner than we think, we shape up. We clear those closets, pay those bills, call often those people we care about, leave letters, give instructions, make memories. We evaluate our values, we change our priorities. A quick course correction is done, and by and large, towards a more meaningful life.

At least, that’s what happened to me when I got the big, scary C diagnosis. I asked myself what has my life like in the past years? If I died on that day, will someone even miss me after a year has passed? Will remembering me bring a happy thought to somebody? Sadly, I admitted that my life had been mostly thinking and caring for myself - far different from person I thought, and hoped, I was.

So, multiple myeloma, and probably growing older did me good. As one cancer patient said, life after cancer is like “The Wizard of Oz” scene after Dorothy and her dog Toto landed in Munchkinland: the scene turned into full color. What had been a drifting, so-so life in black and white are in full color since then. Every ray of sun seems to bring smiles from the grass and trees and flowers. Rain is now rhythms – songs that only those that are really listening can hear. Snow, gorgeous in itself, is magic. A breeze is a kiss from God. Spring is magnificent, autumn is love!

I look and listen better now, most of the time at least. I try to listen with my heart, and not just with my ears. I see better, too, I think, despite the blur of cataracts in my eyes, because I try to see the good in people and not their shortcomings. I am not there yet, but I am on my way.

Are you in any way feel threatened and fearful? It is time to bear lots and lots of good fruit. It would not hurt if you make them sweet too!