Effort

 
 


Watching bumblebees is exhausting. One midsummer morning, I let my attention wander from weed-wrestling to a nearby hydrangea, where the sunlight was striking the leaves and blossoms in a particularly interesting pattern. Bumblebees were already hard at work extracting pollen, and I grabbed my camera and leaned against the wall to watch. Bees are linked in human minds with purposeful, productive effort. Think of "busy as a bee" (which is always a compliment). Paying close attention to a bumblebee as it flies from one blossom to another, then crawls in and around to collect pollen, certainly bears out the truth of the simile. But how does a bee control the expenditure of its energy, using just the right amount to complete its task? Does it know when to rest, or does it just work in a frenzy until it drops, crawling into its little bee bed only to be awakened too soon (like we all do too often). As the minutes passed, and I tried to follow one individual bee, I noticed that there seemed to be a rhythm to its effort: fly to promising blossom, hover, land, fold wings together, walk around, move to center of flower, walk back out, rub wings together, leap into the air, and move on to the next flower. The movement wasn't rushed, but it was steady. There was ease and efficiency that made its busy-ness seem effortless. Its job was clear, and there was obviously no hesitation created by doubt and self-judgment. And of course it was humming a lot of the time!  I was reminded of "Bee breath," an especially relaxing and reviving breath technique I learned in yoga class. I press my lips together as I exhale and hum the "MMM" sound, creating a lovely vibration. Maybe I've just discovered the secret to all that bee energy!