Thus a chosen soul, joying in our Lord, saith of Him in holy Writ: The King brought me into His wine cellar. That is to say: Inasmuch as I forsook the drunkenness of fleshly lusts and worldly likings, which are bitter as wormwood, therefore the King of bliss, the Lord Jesus, led me in; that is, first into myself for to behold and know myself, and after He led me into His cellar; that is to say, above myself by ascending and passing into Him alone, and gave me a taste of His wine; that is for to taste a certainty of spiritual sweetness and heavenly joy. These are not the words of me, a wretched caitiff, living in sin, but they are the words of the spouse of our Lord in holy Writ; and these words I say to thee, to the end that thou mightest draw in thy soul from without, and follow on further as well as thou canst. (John Climacus)

We are creatures who hear, see, feel, smell, and taste. Each of these senses may be cultivated or neglected or over-indulged.

If cultivated with care, each can draw us closer to God and neighbor. Otherwise, the senses can also play a role in separating us from God and neighbor.

The senses are how we engage reality. Our neighbors are part of that reality. God is in that reality.

Spiritual sweetness and heavenly joy are open to us, but we are often too busy or troubled to notice.

Fig trees grow tall and dense with leaves. The figs are easy to miss. But even when you spy dark purple you should feel the fig. If it is still firm, wait for tomorrow.

If tomorrow the skin of the fig has softened, then gently pluck it. Take at least two bites. Consider the luscious red interior, divided yet whole. With each bite let the taste linger on the tongue, notice the juicy mix of flesh and seed subtly complementary in their distinct textures.

I have not yet learned to hear a ripe fig and neither do I notice their fragrance. I am sure there are others who do both. I still have much to learn.