I fought the roots of evil, and won.

In the great Northwest, the Himalayan Blackberry is one form of Evil. It mows down whatever lies in its path with an insatiable hunger for more ground. It's amazingly successful, with stalks so thick and spikes so sharp that it's far easier to ignore than to deal with.

Last Saturday the sun came out. In the stark light I noticed the blackberries had nearly smothered a lovely old stand of hardy fuchsias, with their purple-and-red blooms that resemble an outrageous woman's bloomers on a laundry line. I put on my thickest gloves and went on the attack.

This winter has been a time to dig around in my own insides and uncover what's been neglected. I found a bunch old friends hunkering down there (more on them later), but did not expect to find a Himlayan Blackberry inside my own soul. There it was: the drive to win, to put myself and above everything - and everyone - else.

I'd always cherished the fantasy that deep down, I'm a really "Good Person." I'm pleased to report that I no longer have that particular illusion. So now I can get on with things, hopefully with more honesty.

We humans are the blackberries of the animal world. We spread everywhere, growing and thriving. Without even trying, we possess, overtake, kill and destroy.  And we also make our own flowers and juicy delicious berries, dripping with life and the joy of being.

As within, so without. I felt so empowered as I clawed through dried pine needles and black earth, crawled under 2-inch thick branches that fought back, scratching my face, and tore out the roots at their source.

As I attacked the blackberries, did I try to cut Evil from my own soul ? At some level, perhaps.

Like Evil, the fierce beauty and power of the blackberry will never be totally vanquished. It's just time for something else to have a chance to grow.

For now.