Beeloved,

 

Thank you for your sweet messages and for holding me and my mother in your heart with such care. I have long said that community is what we must rely on, and in moments of transition, such as the one I am in now, this teaching rings true and comes alive in new ways. 

 

I will continue to update you about what I am learning from this time and through my relationship with my mother through newsletters, social media, and the time-space continuum. For now, at least at the time of my writing this newsletter, my mother is in her retirement community, meeting new people and slowly adjusting to her entire life moving to a new place. We are preparing to celebrate her birthday on April 1st. She will be 82 years young, and we will make a scrumptious meal for her and celebrate her life because her life is so worth a celebration. 

 

Speaking of a celebration, one or two of my hives swarmed this past week. I had just returned from a walk with Jasper and was talking to my mother on the phone. I looked out the window and saw bees darting back and forth as they tend to do when they swarm. I told my mother I would need to call her back because I needed to go out and see what was unfolding in the apiary. I walked outside and heard a familiar sound, the cacophonous buzz of a hive giving birth. The hum was so very loud. Two of my three hives were busy with bees rapidly coming out of the hive, as bees were going into the hive. The hives were activated and fully alive. I sat down, listened to, and observed them for a bit. I noticed bees doing what looked like a very large orientation dance, which is the dance they do when they orient to their hive and as they prepare to forage. The dance is a ceremony and a way for them to track where home is, so they remember where to come back to after their foraging adventures. The hum sounded like a swarm, but the dance looked like an orientation one. 

Humans have long tried to figure out the way of bees, but we are limited in our ability to truly know all the secrets and mysteries of bees because we aren’t bees. While we can work with sacred geometry, bees create it. While we can taste honey and all of the labor that went into creating it, humans cannot replicate honey's alchemical properties or structure. Bees are the only beautiful creatures that can make honey. Humans give birth, and bees engage in parthenogenesis, giving birth and releasing half the hive with the elder queen while leaving the rest of the hive with a new queen to carry on their song, vibration, and medicine.

 

The truth is, humans will never fully understand the way of the bee. Even so, we can observe and hold deep reverence for that which we do not or never will fully understand. 

 

As I sat, listened, and looked at the movements of the hive, I noticed some activity in the Leland Cypress, one of two places my hives always swarm shortly after leaving the hive. The other is the sacred oak tree in my backyard. I couldn’t stay for the entire event, but when I returned to the apiary a bit later, I noticed a large swarm of bees in the Leland Cypress tree. I watched them as they shimmered in the sunlight. They stayed there overnight. The following day, I went to sit with them and prayed. By early afternoon, they were gone. I didn’t see them go; I do not know where they went. That is a mystery, too. 

 

Here is what I now think I saw when I first went outside, because the bees called me there—the end of a swarm and the reorientation of the remaining bees. They had given birth, which takes a holy amount of energy and preparation. The remaining bees had to reorganize themselves in their new iteration, dancing in ceremony and celebrating their labor. They were celebrating the future because they had successfully made it through winter, created a new queen, and completed all the tasks (and there are many) to swarm, which is an auspicious event, especially so two days before a lunar eclipse and new moon. 

 

When bees swarm, they have nothing but themselves—their hive. Community.

They have bellies full of honey but no structure or home yet. They find one and begin to create all over again. Laboring for themselves and the future. We can do the same, dear friend. 

 

We, too, will make it through the long darkness these times have brought as spring blooms in full abundance and with fervor. I trust us. 

 

Here is a poem from my upcoming book, The Wisdom of the Hive: What Honeybees Can Teach Us about Collective Wellbeing. If you haven’t pre-ordered it yet, do it now. Once you do, you will receive access to three audio-recorded meditations from the book, a honeybee-inspired playlist, and a pollinator fact sheet. 

 

Spring is almost here and the bees are buzzing about. This is a perfect time to order my upcoming book, The Wisdom of the Hive: What Honeybees Can Teach Us about Collective Well-being. Once you order, you will receive honeybee-inspired gifts. Do it now!