golden fire

...last night as I was sleeping, 

I dreamt — marvellous error!— 

that I had a beehive 

here inside my heart. 

And the golden bees 

were making white combs 

and sweet honey 

from my old failures... 

—Antonio Machado 

Today he had captured the first swarm of bees of the new Spring. It was a nice one, about 5 pounds. A friend had come along to see what this big adventure was all about. Later they talked and marveled at the remarkable little creatures and the mysteries of their world. He found himself trying, as he had so many times before to express the intense energy and depth of his connection to the bees. She asked if he had that energy within him. He was a little surprised by the question, and even more surprised at being surprised by it. At first he said he didn’t know.

But really, he did know. He’d had a close, intensely charged connection to the energy of honey bees for as long as he could remember; at least as far back as second or third grade. He drew deeply on that energy whenever he was near a colony or when field bees were working near by. The hum of bees in a field or tree totally disarmed him and put him into a state of wonder and tranquility he could never describe. Yet it was not just peaceful. The tranquility came from being energized; from being nourished and nurtured and filled and full, and from touching life at a profound magical place.

He knew the energy of bees at a very personal level. It was like nothing else in his experience. It was not simply one of those beautiful parts of nature that make you feel good when you experience them. It was far different from the beauty of a sunset, or the power and rhythm of the sea, or the songs of birds or the babbling of a stream. It was raw, pure, dangerous, peaceful, primitive, sophisticated, living power. It was golden fire burning brightly, right through his core; radiant and hot and driving the engines of his soul.

Bees were for him unlike anything else in creation. There was a spiritual power and energy in them that exponentially transcended their biological potential. They were simple social insects, and yet they carried a balanced charge more powerful and intense than any other creature he knew of, including human beings.

This charge was ancient beyond knowing, simple beyond understanding, gentle beyond the softest touch, more personal and intimate than any whispered secret, more compelling than the sunrise. It moved him every time he sensed it. It was a gift and a secret; a secret he kept even when he told it because he could not find words that could reveal it. He had struggled with the telling and was resolved and at rest knowing that it was just too much to tell. And yes, as she had suspected, he had that energy within him.