The Bees

Marrakesh

I was reminded of the bees today, but really I never forget them.

They live in my memory.

In Morocco, in Casa, the bees were not everywhere but they were in the bakeries. They buzzed and sipped the sugar off of the sweet, syrupy desserts. For those of us who were unaccustomed, it was unusual to see the bees like this, just existing in a place that maybe in our minds, they didn’t belong. But everyone else was unnerved by them. It was actually as if they didn’t even notice.

“That is because we can live together,” my Moroccan friend told me.

The bees, who you fear may hurt you. Who could hurt you. But they live together. They don’t hurt you and you don’t hurt them. After all, they aren’t bothering anyone. They are there minding their own business. You don’t take them home in your pastry bag, after all.

The story of the bees always stuck with me. I think it was the peacefulness that then I learned to feel, even when surrounded by bees in a sweet shop. A deep acceptance that we are always surrounded by bees, whether we can see them or not. Just don’t hurt them. Not to pretend that they aren’t there, but to accept them as they are. To live with them as if it were as natural a thing as anything else..

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Sometimes, we are the bread-buyer, and sometimes we are the bee.

Sometimes we are there, just minding our own business. Wouldn’t it be nice to just be left alone?

How annoying when there are people who come to swat at us. But nevermind them, for bees have wings to evade their blow.

Of course, the bees tend to mean something different to me in different chapters of my life. I am glad they stay with me, though. Because sometimes we are the bees, enjoying the sweetness of life. And sometimes we are the people, who have learned to live in peace with things as they are. After all, what good is it to disturb the bees? Or to let ourselves be disturbed by them?

love,

greer