A hive of activity…

p1000304I am a little preoccupied at the moment, what with the upcoming workshop, some outstanding things I need to catch up on and the fact that I’ve been hobbling around like a centenarian. My back decided to get in on an already overcrowded act act by seizing up completely and at the worst possible moment. Not only is it wholly inconvenient, it is new… and the inevitable worry of ‘why’, when I’ve done nothing to provoke it, sort of seeps in under the radar.

Worry is fear by another name, regardless of how we dress it up or what name we use. It doesn’t matter what the cause may be, the mind can magnify anything out of all proportion, given half a chance. Once magnified, you can then start indulging in all manner of ‘what ifs’ and imaginary scenarios… especially in the middle of the night… even though you know damned well that all you will really do is roll up your sleeves and find a way regardless. You just do.

What with one thing and another, my thoughts have been buzzing so hard they have left little room for anything else. Like a hive of agitated bees they seem to repel any useful intruder that seeks to disturb their dance.

garden-2012-006And just when you think things can’t get any worse, then you get another stalker. Not some genuinely interested person who simply wants to make friends online. Not someone you have come to know gradually. No. The type whose very first point of contact is flowery enough to give you hayfever, and about as transparent… and potentially lethal… as a shard of glass. I’ve made myself fairly clear on my opinion of them before.

They too seem to be part of a hive mind of a different sort, operating on a shared wavelength that is capable of drafting almost identical emails and messages, as if they had access to some kind of prescriptive manual on how to con women they see as vulnerable. My disgust at these tactics stopped my internal buzzing in its tracks and had all the little stingers in there firmly aimed in the direction of this predatory mentality, while I resisted the urge to respond with verbal tooth and claw.

It was thus agitated and fair seething that I stepped outside into the garden. Instead of looking at all the things I’d like to be able to do to get it ready for the growing season, I just stood there and breathed. The sun was warm on my skin; really warm, bathing me in springtime. Shadows danced amongst the leaves, rustling the dried stems that still need to be cleared. Tiny shoots and burgeoning buds dot the stalks and twigs through which a huge bumblebee, the first of the year, lumbered impossibly.

p1120064I watched its sleepy flight, knowing the science that keeps it in the air, yet seeing only the miracle of those tiny wings lifting the fat, furry body. All thought was adrift in wonder, washed away by the glow of the sun. Taught muscles, crisped against the cold for so long, relaxed in the warmth and inner silence. I was conscious of not knowing the last time I had simply taken time, outside of meditation, to not do anything, but the thought had nothing to cling to. I was aware of the detail observed yet it registered as a whole, not as parts. For a time unmeasured and unhurried, I simply stood as part of the moment.

It was only later, back at the screen, coffee in hand, that it occurred to me that it had taken the negative emotions of the day to prepare the canvas of the mind for that moment of utter peace. On a bland day I would probably have only seen the gardening that needed to be done. On a good day I would have been beavering away and missed the impossible flight of the first bumblebee. Like children, I thought, sometimes the lessons that are taught through love can begin with less than pleasant circumstances; it is one way to get our attention, after all, and the brightness shows all the clearer against the shadows.

None of it sounds of much importance, yet it is through such apparently insignificant moments that we learn. Their impact on our inner state cannot be measured as we draw from them lessons which, perhaps, we cannot voice. The realisations may go deep, beyond thought, taking time to find their way back up to the surface of consciousness. Such moments out of time we seem to connect with yet another Mind, one that encompasses all we know and all we are and in that utter peace our small cares and even our individuality have neither place nor relevance. We are one tiny sparkle on the endless velvet of eternity, one mind amongst many, yet we are one with the One.

morebees-013

About Sue Vincent

Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of The Silent Eye, a modern Mystery School. She has written a number of books, both alone and with Stuart France, exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs. Follow her at scvincent.com and on Twitter @SCVincent Find her books on Goodreads and follow her on Amazon worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email: findme@scvincent.com
This entry was posted in Life, Photography, Spirituality and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

67 Responses to A hive of activity…

  1. davidprosser says:

    Great photographs Sue, I like bees. I hope the back gets better soon, that’s no fun at all.
    xxx Gentle Hugs xxx

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Suzanne says:

    I hope your back pain eases soon. I like the way you have written of your stress and stressors and then the power of finding peace in the beauty of nature.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. willowdot21 says:

    I empathise with your backache there is nothing that wears you down more. Keeping mobile, it helps but some rest too! Contradictory I know. Have you someone stalking you on line, I hope they give up soon, they feed off of reaction so starve them of response hopefully they will give up.
    The idea of us all being tiny specs of a huge collection appeals to me, sometimes I feel so alone that to be be part of a huge One is a wonderful thought. The One who watches over us is clever how ever heavy our load seems we are never given more than we can bare, however we may doubt that at the time.
    Mindfulness helps on so many levels being in the moment and you describe it so perfectly. The bee your little reminder of how we all get there in the end.
    I hope your hive is more restful now and that your back improves….. Have you been out Flossing with Ritu she has hurt her back dancing 😉https://butismileanyway.com/2018/03/23/friday-floss-floss-swishswish/
    Thinking of you Sue, hope you feel better soon 💜💜💜

    Liked by 1 person

  4. jenanita01 says:

    I tend to disagree with the theory that we are never given more than we can cope with. It seems to me that we just find new ways of coping, and back ache is one of the classic symptoms of doing that. I am having to stretch out on my bed to shut my back up, and use this time to work on my WIP in my head…

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  5. Hope your back gets better soon Sue. I’ve been plagued by horrendous cramp of late. Oh the joys… glad a moment’s respite from annoying people allowed you to see the greater picture. Indeed, these sorts of experiences do enlighten us.

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  6. Michael says:

    Intriguing read . hope your stalker and back problems are soon remedied sue.

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  7. I sympathise with your back problems Sue. Just when you get comfy, something twings or twangs and you’re right back where you started. We haven’t seen any bumblers yet, but are on the lookout for drones. If we find any, we’ll put them on the nearest flower. Love bees.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Bad backs are hell. Hope it rights itself soon.

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  9. I also hope your back gets better soon Sue. Wish you all the best. Michael.

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  10. If it is any comfort to you Sue, no-one ever stalk’s my blog or social media. The stalker obviously things yours is worth stalking. I loved the pictures of the bees – English bees are so lovely and furry.

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  11. Depression is also fear, without the energy of anger pushing it around. I have been gradually losing my short term memory. Not in an Alzheimer way, but as my shrink put it, “the usual ‘you’re getting old’ way. It has eliminated depression and obsession and a lot of anger. I can’t remember anything long enough to stay really mad about it. I KNEW there had to be something good about getting old.

    As for the back, that happens to all of us. My theory — just a theory, mind you — is that you did something earlier and it took a while before it grabbed you. One of my bosses (the good one) used to say that nothing happens by accident. Everything has a reason. Finding the reason may be a lot more effort than it’s worth when simply rebooting the machine will do the job … but that’s true of everything. There’s a reason. Tracking it down is probably too tedious and will yield few results worth mentioning, but there really IS a reason.

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    • Sue Vincent says:

      I can think of a few things I would count as a bonus of getting older… but I’m sort of fond of my memory 😉

      As to the back… I’ve been a carer for twenty of the last thirty years. I was bound to happen eventually. I’m just surprised it hasn’t given up sooner.

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  12. I pulled some muscles shoveling a week-and-a-half ago.

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  13. Eliza Waters says:

    Glad you found respite in a moment’s peace, Sue. Presence lifts many burdens. Hope your back feels better soon!

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  14. Jennie says:

    Perfectly and beautifully said, Sue. “Stop and smell the roses” only skims the surface of your message. Thank you! And your photos are beautiful.

    Like

  15. Widdershins says:

    We do find ways to recharge the spirit, in spite of their annoyingly feeble intrusions, don’t we? 🙂

    Love the bumblebee visit … ours are still hibernating. Every time the sun comes out I reckon they poke their noses (probosces?) out of their tiny little hobbit-holes and wait a bit, to see if the weather changes, (which at the moment happens hourly) then sigh and crawl back into bed with their hot water bottles and cuppa teas. 🙂

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    • Sue Vincent says:

      AS I sitp my morning coffee, one clock says it is six am and I have an hour before work, the other, not digital, says five and reminds me I should be in bed and the door should be closed on the cold morning. My sympathies lie with your bumblebees 😉

      Liked by 1 person

  16. Hope the back issue isn’t anything serious, and that it gets better soon.

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  17. noelleg44 says:

    Hope you are back to being your usual busy bee, Sue. Sometimes all it takes is a trip outside and a sit in the sun!

    Like

  18. Pingback: Writing Links…3/26/18 – Where Genres Collide

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