The garden is humming. Literally. Out in my herb circle, the bees have surrendered themselves with bacchanalian abandon to the bliss of the flowers. Over and over they come, bringing friends to the party and leaving pollen-drunk for their hives.
Midsummer is here. The sun is high, the air is warm, and all is well with the bee world. Growth is everywhere; green is the dominant color, punctuated here and there by the brighter shades of the flowers. The energy is palpable and intense.
In a few weeks, this energy will shift, and the live-in-the-moment growth of midsummer will give way to setting seed, ripening fruit, preparing for the cold to come. But that is all in the future. Right now, August seems a long ways off, at least in the garden.
The bees, of course, seem to blend the two energies. They revel in the moment, wallowing in the ephemeral flowers of late June, but even their revels result in the honey that will see them through the winter. In this, they are spiritual masters, living Zen koans, simultaneously fully living in the moment yet still engaged in the practical real-life business of planning for what comes next. They do not despair at the prospect of winter. They buzz over to the next blossom and enjoy.
Humanity doesn’t know exactly how the next few decades will play out ecologically. From where I sit, it doesn’t look good. Ironically, our “winter” may quite a hot one if computer models hold true (and so far, they have). Wringing our hands does no good. Sinking into a pissed-off-at-the-world funk doesn’t help either (although it is tempting). Some serious change is needed, both on a personal and a societal level. Yes, yes, and yes.
But here, in this moment, there is beauty to be found regardless of what the future holds. Here in this moment, life is good, and the garden is exploding in green. Here in this moment, we can find joy to sustain us. And flowers. And pollen for honey-making. And sunshine. With our bee gurus as our guides, we can sink into the present without losing sight of the future. Ahhh… lovely.
Sometime this week, watch a bee. Find a patch of flowers, pull up a seat, and meditate on the Mystery. It will do you good.
Photo Credit: Thank you to flickr user emrank at www.creativecommons.org