The Language of Bees
Several years ago I was on a trip to Peru. As a group of visitors, we were taken to a 2000-year old Carob tree.
Several years ago I was on a trip to Peru. As a group of visitors, we were taken to a 2000-year old Carob tree. When we arrived and exited the bus we realized that walking to the tree was not going to be easy. The tree WAS a beehive. Millions of bees wove around the tree as a web of a symphonic buzz. I stood there wondering how I was going to make it to that tree. The roots were majestic and were calling me for a visit, a touch, a connection. My friends on the bus were already covering themselves with shawls and they were trying to make their way into the swarm. Others had already been stung. I stood at the entrance to the bee sphere. I asked the bees permission to enter and I waited. I did this naturally as I instinctively knew I was about to enter their space. Once I felt the permission given, I entered. Not a single bee touched me during my entire visit with the millennium tree. I spent time at the roots and walked around the trunk. Finally I stepped out and sat on a rock. I had my left arm resting on my knee. A bee came and gently landed on my left hand. I did not move as she walked her way up to my shoulder and then down on my naked arm. She waited for a few seconds at the tip of my second finger and then flew away. I felt blessed by this mysterious conversation with the bees and the acknowledgment I received by the visit of one of them...
by Shireen Maluf, www.nayyira.com