Today was a bad day.
And when I have a bad day, I visit with my bees. There is much wisdom to be gathered from them, and today I wanted it desperately. I also needed to feel their sting. I know it's not the right thing to do, but I did everything I could to encourage them to sting me.
I ate honey before I put my suit on, lots of it, so the scent was on my mouth.
I lit my smoker out of habit, but left it on the table by the house. I was rude and didn't tell them hello.
I knocked on the side of the hive with my fist to stir them up, which it did.
I rolled up the sleeves of my suit and went without gloves, and they crawled all over my skin.
I blew into the open hive box with my honey-scented breath, over and over and over.
I stole a box of their precious treasure.
And I whispered to them under my breath - "Sting the fuck out of me, little bees. Please. I need it today."
And do you know what happened? Nothing. Not one sting. I wanted to feel it so badly, and they didn't give in despite all of my pleading and abuse.
I know that there is a lesson here for me. I'm just unsure what it is they are trying to teach me.