I’ve spent the better part of the last week in Puerto Rico, connecting with Black women leaders in sacred circles, at the water’s edge, on the dance floor, and around tables full of Blackness and Black Joy. It’s fed my soul to facilitate meditations, rituals, and dream sessions for the group. One of the first things that happened in our circle was my introduction to the most recent cohort of leaders, who were finishing up one part of their cycle with the program while on the threshold of a new beginning. During my introduction, I shared the usual information, including my name, pronouns, the land I come from, and a little about myself, such as my work and practice as a lover and tender of honeybees.
The bees always seem to have a way of working their way into sacred circles I hold.
Throughout my time with the group this past week, the honeybees continued to come up in small ways. One woman shared how inspired she felt after I spoke to her briefly about bees. She even incorporated them into a collective piece of art that the group designed.
This is the power of bees and really any pollinator—they inspire us to remember who we are, how to be in community, and connect with our magic in service of yes, caring for ourselves, but also tending to our roots now so there will be fruit for future generations.
This is what I witnessed during my time in the circle of Blackness and Black magic—a commitment to rest and care, and a rootedness in lineage and legacy. These women I met build community. They create magic amid uncertainty and the not knowingness of this time on our planet. They remember where they come from and who they are. They laugh, cry, rest, dance, celebrate, and dream. They tap into and connect with the energy of sacred waters, creating their own streams of wisdom while committing to protecting and sustaining a future where all Black women can be healthy, thrive, belong, be free, and have all they desire.
The other day, in my own ritual of connecting with the sacred waters here on this land, I walked past a tree in full bloom. I searched for a honeybee, because while I had called them into circle, I hadn’t yet seen one. That’s when it happened, one was on a flower gathering nectar. I looked up and saw many more at the top of the tree, buzzing about. I smiled and thought, 'Of course, you are here with us, to show us how to do the sacred work of gathering resources for our hive, because you believe in a future that you may not see, but you will work to make happen.’
And the circle expands continually, because of the fastidious work and spirit of the bee. The circle expands because Black women ensure that everyone has a space at the table and is well-fed. The circle expands because we reclaim ourselves, our stories, and ancestral technologies. The circle expands because we pollinate and share lessons within our infinite circles of influence and connection. The circle expands because we commit to liberation now and into the future.
What sacred, holy work my ancestors have put me up to. Thank you, ancestors. Thank you, honeybees. Thank you, new circle of sisters.
I hope that you feel inspired to support and work with
The Wisdom of the Hive. If you haven’t pre-ordered it yet, please do so now. Share it in your circles. Pollinate your communities with the magic contained within the book and body of work.
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Ase.