When it comes to universal connection, there are points everywhere. Simply stepping out of your door and breathing the air is the most natural way. We can take it a step further, and know that we all see the same moon and sun. Taking this even further, we could find ourselves lucky enough to have a special, personal sign. Some folks have a lucky number, a spirit animal, or another guide. Mine is the bee.
For the past few years, I have felt a keen awareness toward both bumblebees and honeybees, though primarily it is the adorably plump bumblebee who says hello to me most often. When I see these guys, I have an overwhelmingly positive sense of belonging, a trust that I am journeying a personalized life path. It’s easy to know this sentiment in theory, but the actual physical reminder in the form of a buzzing bee feels like a touch from God. In the buzz I hear, “Hey, I see you and I think you’re doing really well.” When I notice bees, I feel my connection to the essence of existence, that I am an important part of a greater whole.
Still, while in the presence of the bee I remain observant and alert. Afterall, the bee could sting me. You know I’m a sucker for metaphors – this one is my favorite: just like the bee, life can sting me at any moment. I therefore move with caution through life, respecting my body and the blessing of a good day. It only takes a few big disappointments or stupid mistakes to make a person a little more careful, more cognizant of potential obstacles. My bee friends remind me that everything is okay, and that could change. From experience, I know life could turn upside down and “sting” me in an instant, so I hold life in careful regard. I try my best not to get too comfortable or take too much for granted, as it is from this mindset that my biggest setbacks stem.
It’s a fine line to walk. How can we appreciate and live life to the fullest while simultaneously acknowledging that nothing, be it good or bad, is permanent? The most important lesson I’ve learned is to plan for right now, to be present in this exact space and time. Hope and dreams can guide us into the future, but only if the primary effort is placed on doing well today, this week, this month.
Since this realization, bees have made their presence known to me in the most ordinary of days. I see them on my walks during my lunch break in the middle of a mundane work day. I hear their hum when I step outside to take a deep breath and remember that the sun does shine, warmly. I see them in my child’s bedtime storybooks, the random books from the library whose content have actually nothing to do with bees, and yet a surprise bumblebee is drawn on every single page. I notice it, and I know I’m right where I’m supposed to be, doing exactly the thing I’m supposed to be doing: living.