We have two honeybee hives on our property. They reside in our garden, safely inside 7-foot deer fencing, with plenty of flowers and vegetables to visit. This is our first year with bees, and getting to know them has been such an amazing and interesting journey. What incredible little creatures. And if there was ever a creature that was sensitive to energy - the bee is it.
While they work as a community - with each little bee having her own important job, as a nurse or a forager or a defender - individually they are just so fascinating to watch. They can tell immediately what kind of mood we're in, and aren't afraid to let us know if they don't appreciate that kind of energy nearby. Since they lose their lives when they sting, if the threat isn't imminent, they will give you a head bump instead as a warning. So we might be walking through the garden and here comes a bee to the back of the head at 20mph, and you're like, "ok, I see you, I'll get out of here..."
For such a tiny creature, they have such powerful energetic connections. A queen bee can communicate to her 20,000 constituents in a matter of seconds, and at a moment's notice, the entire hive energy can change. The energy work that I practice is much the same concept... it may seem like tiny subtle energy movements, but they can have huge impacts. Releasing that blockage, or moving that air element a certain way, or balancing that chakra can have ripple effects on every part of your being. From healing ancestral trauma to being able to let go of this lifetime's sticky-ness, it all starts with little energy movements.
Little energy. Don't focus on the enormous changes. Start with the little ones. A wave starts as a ripple, after all.
I think maybe I'm learning a lot more about energy work from the true masters - the bees.
It’s that time of Summer when fledglings have left the nest - adolescent birds of all varieties are trying to figure out life within their flocks and in their worlds. They no longer rely on their parents for food and some of them are preparing for their first migration of their busy little lives. At our house, we have at least two different species of hummingbirds battling over our two feeders, with dozens of little buzzing birds flitting about at crazy speeds with magnificent maneuvering abilities as they chirp and yell and chase each other for hours each day.
I can’t help but wonder at the incredible amount of energy they expend just competing over nectar!
So we spend our afternoons marveling at the hummingbird chaos and standing and walking slowly since they are like little flying needles in the air! And they zip crazily close to your face!
The other day we’re sitting and enjoying our usual afternoon beer on the deck and watching the battles commence, and one little hummingbird clumsily flew up to the feeder, just barely hanging on. His wings were spread out in an awkward way, and he sat for a very long time, his eyes half-closed. We both have years of experience in animal care and it was obvious something was wrong with this little bird.
We ended up scattering all the other hummers from the area and gently moving the entire feeder onto our table on the deck, and little ADR (Ain’t Doin’ Right - that’s an official animal care term) hummer stayed perched the entire time. We set up a barrier in front of him so the other hummingbirds wouldn’t mess with him, and we went about our homestead chores - checking on him every so often. After we finished watering the garden and taking care of our animals, we went back to the deck and he was still perched on the feeder, eyes closed, breathing heavily. I told my partner, “I don’t think he’s long for this world.”
We sat with him. He eventually got weak enough that he fell off the feeder, at which point I gently picked him up and held him in my hands. For about 10 minutes we simply held space for him. He rolled around in my hands a bit, and would perk up if he heard the other hummingbirds chirp. Eventually, he put his little head down and took his last little hummingbird breath. I told him, “I hope you’ve lived a very long and fulfilling hummingbird life.” We then marveled at the beauty of his feathers before we dug him a tiny shallow grave and returned him to the Earth.
It was a very calming experience. This was not the first time a hummingbird has died in my hands, among a plethora of other animals in my life, and I’ve always found it an interesting experience when a wild animal (in particular) trusts me to witness them cross over. It got me thinking about the idea of bearing witness. Simply being there - holding space - allowing another being to process their journey - without interference. I facilitate a women’s trauma support group once a week and I try to operate the same way in those times - sometimes someone simply needs someone to Listen. This little hummingbird, while he certainly didn’t need me, somehow trusted me to allow him to cross over as peacefully as possible.
Who, or what, have you been available to bear witness to recently? Tell me about it.
Stefanie, trained in traditional Usui Reiki methods, with additional training in working with the chakras and the elements, has an incredible passion for helping others on their healing journeys, with an empathetic heart and absurd amounts of compassion. Stefanie lives in SW Colorado on a two-acre off-grid homestead with her husband, their rambunctious pit-mix, Loki, a comical flock of ducks and chickens, and two buzzing beehives.