I am on an adventure and bees are a central point to my story! Fascinated by their behaviour and inspired by the metaphors they have given me, my fingers are moving quickly over the keyboard.
I remember the cabin of Richard Wagamese and Debra Powell where nurturing mornings of sweet smelling smudge and purifying smoke re-awakened me to the natural world’s hum of activity with sacred eyes. Subtle cues woven through the trees and fresh air loved me back to story as my feet touched the earth with purpose. I recalled Richard’s notes today. “Breathe through your fingers,” he said.
A bumblebee perched calmly on my mother’s wrinkled palm while her other hand, arthritic and disfigured, petted it gently. It was a moment’s peace from her daily gardening. The bee meandered off sinking itself into a nearby blossom while she continued to watch it intently.
My husband transported his honeybees in our old hatchback!!!! A small opening closed off with thin muslin cloth was the only thing between HIS hive and MY body! The more terrified I got, the harder he laughed! Honeybees relocated, wife hysterical.
Warned numerous times of the impending wasp peril that loomed over our compost and lectured daily about the difference between wasps and bees I gingerly brushed away an intruder while I was gardening. Four consecutive stings later and an anaphylactic shock that needed immediate treatment I determined, that was not a bee!
I tried to explain to children why my name was MS. Lana. Finally I said plainly, “I am Ms. Lana because I am a buzzing bee, baby!” After that they realized that my busy work was because I believed I had equal opportunity to create. They gestured a bee with their little hands to get the name in their heads and it stuck! What a positive way to affirm.
Small town Lana moved to Calgary with her family in the late 60s. I was introduced to a new kind of hive at school and the stings lasted for years. A story has unfolded. I am buzzing!!!!