|Another, happier bee|
When I was driving on 46 yesterday, something landed in my bra, between my breasts. Eeek! When I was able to take a peek, I found a bee.
As I gingerly turned into a side road (regretting the weight I had gained that made squashing the bee a possibility), I begged the bee not to sting me. I wasn’t too afraid, because I love bees, and I know they aren’t aggressive. Besides, my mother is a bee charmer. I felt protected.
I scooped the bee out carefully with a tissue and realized that the poor guy was dying. He could barely crawl onto the grass when I placed him there–I hated to leave him, but I don’t think I have the skill to rehabilitate a bee.
I began to think: why was I visited by a dying bee?
A bee symbolizes the Mother Goddess, the willing sacrifice, immortality, and cooperation. In the physical world, the bee is in terrible danger from hive collapse and pesticides.
That made me think of the Hindu goddess Kali, the mother goddess of creation and destruction. Maybe my dying bee was a message from her, telling me not to be afraid, that death (my death, the death of ecosystems, the death of family and friends) is voluntary. We die to live again, but most importantly, we die to complete this part of our dream, and to leave room for others (as well as ourselves) to grow.
I love bees!
So did Emily . . .
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,—
One clover, and a bee,
The revery alone will do
If bees are few.
Somehow, I think dreams may be mixed up in all of this, too. So many of her poems seem like waking dreams . . .
Glad you managed to stay calm with a bee in your bra!
I love the image of you worrying over a dying little bee and wanting to help him. (The dying of bees is definitely something to worry about.)I think that in addition to a message of death and dying, the bee was a message of compassion. Who knows, maybe your heartfelt concern was a comfort to the little fellow.
Oh, I just noticed that you took the picture…it's lovely.
I love that poem from E.D. In fact, it seems to describe the sense that I had, perfectly. Thank you for quoting it here, and reminding me!
I just felt that you, my friends, could appreciate the humor and pathos of that moment!
I guess I believe that my concern gives them some peace. Or maybe it just gives me peace. There was a time when I had to stop at least once a week to help some poor little animal die–like a grim reaper for critters. It got so painful, I finally asked the goddess to take it away–and I have rarely had to do it since. Maybe she thinks I'm ready again.
Thanks about the picture–I am trying to use my own photos on the blog, and so far, I mostly have. I just haven't thought to put my name on them before!