What makes me come alive? Bees and every way I can devote myself to them, love them, support them, celebrate them, and be awake and aware around them. I am a free-range honeybee lover, educator, advocate and celebrant claimed by the bees, body and soul. I spend time in the bee sanctuary every day that I am home a fragrant, tranquil mecca where I recalibrate and recollect myself, inspired by a congregation of thousands who have long been celebrating High Bee Communion together. Across the years, my time with these beloved winged ones has evolved into a mindfulness practice. When I am positive, present, respectful, appreciative, grateful, curious, observant, listening, reverent and loving, my relationship with them flowers. A sacred mutual kinship with the bees has revealed itself on its own terms grounded in bee time and not governed by human agenda. To be around them and move amongst them in a deeply harmonious way is a core presence practice.
Joe and I had gone one evening to listen to one of our favorite musicians in the world, Omar Faruk Tekbilek, whose singing, to me, is pure devotion. We came home from that concert with our hearts blown wide open. It was late but I was wide awake. So I went to the bee yard. On that beautiful full moon night, I heard the most extraordinary sounds coming from the heart of the bee colony. It was haunting, compelling and not the least bit frightening. That sound, for me, was completely life changing. The sound is called Queen Piping, sometimes made by virgin queen bees before they are born. To me it is one of the great sacred sounds in bee life and in my life. I have heard it many times since; whenever I do, I feel like I am privileged to be in the presence of some kind of epic holy-rolling Moment in the life of a hive. I call this sound the Song of the Unborn Virgins; it seems to emerge from the heart of creation like a sort of om, but differently primal and femininely mysterious.
Last year, when I was teaching bee in Turkey, we lost our house to fire. A neighbor, who we hardly knew, immediately called us. He is a builder and offered us a new home at his cost, which is how we could afford to create a new nest. His generosity still brings us to tears. And the blessings that have poured like a libation into our lives from all over the world since that epic event and offering have kept us on our knees with gratitude.
To go to Iran (Persia), stay at a caravanserei on the old Silk Road, lay down in the desert at night, and look up at the stars.
Love is the ultimate activism.