Presence.

Presence.  

I’ve been wanting to write a blog about the power of being present for a while, but until today, it seemed a little pedestrian. I mean, everyone knows that being present, or ‘living in the now’ is the spiritually fit way to roll, right? There is nothing new there. But, still, I kept thinking about it. And intuitively I know there is something about bees that brings me to the ‘here and now’ every time I am around them. Then, because Monday was Martin Luther King Jr’s b-day, I started thinking about the people that marched for civil rights in the 1960s.

 

The stories of the Civil Rights marches always seem to begin with one person standing up (or sitting down) for their beliefs… The presence of the individual is the catalyst, and the power of connection with others expands that power.

 

But it is the presence of that first person that is so magnetic. They become a seismic pulse of presence in the face of what they believe needs changing. Shaking in their boots, or fearless, it doesn’t matter. They stand, sit, or walk with complete and total presence of spirit… It is one of the loudest examples of quiet in the world, second only to indifference.

 

Today, I am taking some time to meditate on the love that a march through a street has symbolized in American history. I want as much of that energy to rub off on me as possible as I go forward and stand with paintbrush in hand and paint bees. I am aware that it is highly unlikely that anyone would want to stop me or hurt me as I am doing this work. And in that way, this work is not the same as the civil rights movement. But the marches of the 1960s were so powerful because the humanity shined. People came together and things that seemed impossible became possible. Humans often have a hard time understanding things they do not (or cannot) see. (The bees are suffering from this reality.) But when those marchers offered themselves with hope and pride and love through a simple, walk, with non-retaliatory responses to violent acts, they created images of the truth that were suddenly unmistakable. People could finally see it. That is where The Good of the Hive is taking a lesson from the civil rights movement. I hope to channel that kind of presence and create images that ring loudly about the bees. When people connect with the truth, fast or slow, change does happen.