Wednesday, 22 April 2015

The Sting


On sunny mornings I’ll usually stand in my garden and breathe in the smells of the new Spring.
This morning, following this routine, I walked out into my garden and saw a huge bumble bee sitting on the garden table. I walked on, and then stopped in my tracks, stopped by some force of nature, and returned to where the bee was.
I instantly remembered about the time I wrote an article for local magazine, Local Women, for the Valentine’s edition. In my unconventional way I didn’t write about romance or love, well love in the traditional way. I actually wrote about how St Valentine is the patron saint of Bee Keeping also.  In the article I chat about how bees are integral to the existence of mankind. No bees, no pollination, No food. 

Albert Einstein once said “If the Bee disappears off the surface of the Earth, man would have no more than four years to live.’’

Upon remembering this reverence for the bee, I owed St Valentine, I had a duty.
So I looked. The Bee, not moving at all, was quite possibly dead. The cause of death? A mystery.
Standing in the dewy morning in my mis-matched pyjamas, and a child-like freckly face to match my child-like curiosity, I bent down and observed the situation in my Sherlock inspired inspection pose. I suddenly remembered that I heard somewhere that bees can become exhausted and to give them sugared water to revive them. With excited anticipation to see if the theory worked (my own little scientific experiment) I went into my kitchen, got sugar and some water and put it on a teaspoon. I went back out and sat the teaspoon down right in front of the bee. No movement.
I pushed the spoon further towards the bee and poured out some of the liquid onto the table. A tensed few seconds passed under my held breath.

There it was, the movement I had been scanning for.

The Bee, faded and slow, began to soak up the sweet water with what looked like a long straw and a little tongue bobbing in and out on the end of it. 





I had never been so close to a Bee before.
The Bee sucked at the sugar particles, and at that I remembered ‘Honey, we have honey’.
I ran back into the kitchen to retrieve the honey and brought it back out, put a dollop in front of the Bee and stared in amazement at how this bee reacted to the honey as if it were a drug he was in withdrawal from.


Not five minutes after giving the bee the honey, my close observance was interrupted with the instant buzzing of the bee. He moved, stretched his legs, tested his wings, and at that he flew off…
When the bee flew off I felt a sense of happiness that I was able to help this creature revive and continue its path in the course of nature.




It also made me think of something else. It made me think of people. It made me think of the people in my life who I’ve given my help, time and love, just as I had given to this Bee. And like the bee, they leave.
We have people in our lives, some come and stay and others go. This bee today, upon leaving me could have stung me, but it didn’t. Some people, upon leaving our lives, do sting us, without us previously never knowing that they could have such a poisonous sting.
Why, if we give love, the rich sugar and water of our lives to these people, do they hurt us and leave? Why do these people, on this Earth, stop by in our lives, take of us our resources, what they need and then just unexpectedly leave?
What do we do?
People who are stung and hurt are often left feeling foolish for investing so much time and love. They feel that they are empty because they’ve no longer the sweetness or vitality that they once had, because they shared it with someone who was no longer there.
What should we learn about such circumstances?

We need to learn that it’s not a shame to have dedicated your best self to another, it’s indicative of the kind and sweet soul that you are. The shame lies in the person who stung you.

Learn that just because we are stung, it’s not necessary to sting back. It’s more necessary to stay as the person you are, the giver of the sweet life that revives.

I’ve learned that upon feeling the pain and hurt from a sting, I found myself being revived by another sweet and pure soul who invested their time in me.

I’ve learned that I could never sting a person who revived me, because I know all I need is already in front of me.
I’ve learned to stay true to myself, and the right people will come into your life to stay.

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