Connections of Light

June 2024

Steady, deep rumbles coming from different directions filled the air. It was a sunny morning toward the end of June. I could hear them before I could see them. It was almost deafening. Once my eyes locked onto them, though, they were impossible to miss — commanding their space with an unmistakable presence, their luminous, black bodies brilliantly reflecting the sunlight.

These carpenter bees and I have shared outdoor space together for over a decade. Nevertheless, they still amaze and inspire me whenever I see them. They love to frequent flowers in the mornings when the sun is beginning its morning ascent. They have incredible energy, capable of reaching blurring speeds in an instant. Effortless in their agility and precision at stopping from high speeds in a fraction of a second, hovering in place, only to race off again — they are the hummingbirds of the bee world.

They also have endless determination. They remain focused and steadfast as they land on flower after flower. They do not seem to mind sharing the flowering bounty before them with the honeybees and an occasional spotted cucumber beetle.

On this particular morning, I knew that I was seeing these giant beauties in a new way. I noticed a deep golden color on some of the bees that was not a part of their normal coloration. I saw pollen exactly where I expected to see it — on pollen baskets on the bees’ legs. But on this day, the golden-yellow pollen on some of the bees’ heads held my gaze; it was vibrant next to the bees’ glossy black.

I became curious as to how exactly this pollen got onto the bees’ heads. I zeroed in on a single carpenter bee and watched her fly to a salvia flower. She carefully wrapped her legs around either side of the flower, delicately cupping the flower. Then she moved her black head and large, shining eyes forward.

As she did so, the top petal of the salvia flower — the hood — bent down ever so slightly, touching the bee’s head as the bee stretched forward into the flower. As the bee moved in closer to the core of the flower, the flower’s petal moved up the bee’s head from between her eyes to the start of her back.

As I watched the physical connection between the bee and flower, a word immediately popped into my head: anoint. Indeed, a palpable reverence emanated from both the flower and bee. What I was witnessing was more than just a bee drinking nectar from a flower. It was more than a mere mechanistic dropping of pollen onto the bee.

It was a floral benediction. With golden-yellow pollen, the flower was sanctifying the bee for her part in the flower’s circle of life. In turn, the bee was accepting her role in the flower’s circle and including the flower in the bee’s separate yet overlapping and connected circle of life.

I realized that I was witnessing the Divine. The waves of Divine radiance flowing out from both the bees and the flowers themselves with every act of connection also washed over me. They were waves of love, grace, joy, bliss, completeness and sacredness. It was humbling and exhilarating all at the same time.

I am grateful for my experience that morning. I did not step foot into the yard anticipating that I would see and connect with the Divine through the bees and plants. What transpired is a great reminder for me that this is part of the beauty and wonder of the Divine: when I take the time to look, I will see and feel the Divine around and within me, all of the time.

* For anyone interested, these carpenter bees likely are one of the all black carpenter bee species native to California (Xylocopa spp.). The blue salvia is commonly known as bog sage salvia (Salvia uliginosa).