In the desert summer, it's essential to have water nearby, to quench your bones of their thirst. To find the patches of lush landscape dispersed within the washes, canyons and mountains. To find a flower bursting with color on a blank canvas. When you come across one, imagine wild coyote, sinking its teeth into the flesh of its prey. A kind of primal acceptance, seductive sacrifice, instinctual pleasure, a humble satisfaction, a remembered belonging. You indulge in its sensation, its beauty, its courage. Plunge into its gift as if it were your lover.
Today, my lover brought me the gift of honey.
At the base of a dying elm tree, near a secret watering hole along the river, I noticed what I thought to be a hornets nest. Hornets buzzed past my face as if to get my attention. I knelt down to their nest to discover a honey hive of bees! Tucked into what looked like the opening of a yoni. I brought tobacco offering and slowly laid belly to the earth peering into this honeypot of wonder as close as I could without disturbing their path.
I lay there, enamored by their devotion. The hard work, consistency and sacrifice it takes to support the Queen and community. The Queen representing Mother Earth, the feminine, the fertility and potential of our dreams... the worker bees (all infertile females), devoted to sisterhood, work to help the heart of their hive to thrive; they are responsible for every task. The females first task in development is to feed the young. With age, they learn to build the intricate structure of the hive, guard the entrance, then to forage and make honey.
Inquiring of my own life and growth as a woman, the way of the feminine bee seemed to correlate to the development of all women; we must care for the inner child that lives within each of our honey hearts, learn to build stable foundation for ourselves and with the earth, use our devotional life force in service, witness and community with other women, and we must forage the connections, resources and skills necessary to manifest our sweet desires and visions. To remember the sweetness of sisterhood and savor the deliciousness of our own body and the commitment required to "bee" embodied on this Earth.
Outside the entrance of the hive, scattered bodies of male "drones" lay to rest. The remnants of lovemaking; dying after mating with the Queen... sacrificing their life for generations to come.
As I was belly to belly with the earth, I felt a faint sting on my left, just over my ovary. It didn't hurt much but it was enough to notice. This sting stayed with me for days, reminding me of the pain I had experienced as a young woman in my womb (on my left side) many years ago; a trauma that was debilitating, life altering... extracted my innocence and distorted my sensual expression.
After researching the bees, I learned the male drones have no stinger, only the females, and they die after releasing their venom.
I set an intention and allowed my body to receive this sacred serum like an injection of bitter sweet medicine to mend and release me of the past I had been holding. I sat up gently, peeling the bee body from my skin, offering it back to the mouth of the hive.
Sweet Release
