It only took the sight of one dead bee to make me realize there is no heaven.
Perhaps an explanation is in order.
As some of you know, I swim each afternoon. Considering the pressure cooker that my brain feels like over the course of the trading day, my swim is a relaxing, soul-restoring, and delightfully repetitive meditation of waves, ripples, and rhythm.
As my pool is near both of my bee hives, I invariably will spot a honeybee or two in the water. More often than not, they will still be alive, and I always get them out of the water swiftly. I’ve learned to be judicious in how I handle them, typically cupping both my hands to make a deep little pool so that they don’t sting me. I’ll get them out of the water, gently flip them upright with my index finger, and watch them for a few moments as they buzz their wings dry and zip away back to their duties. I’m the same way with spiders in the house. They always get safe passage to the outdoors.
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