Death and Rebirth within the Hive
Written by Tracy Barrilleaux
My bees did not survive the winter. It’s been a profound moment of sadness and grieving for me, especially as a first time Beekeepress. Grieving for the loss of beloved friends that I nurtured, and poured resources into, gave my time and energy to, are now simply gone. This grieving goes way beyond resource loss though, it feels more personal than that. These bees, which often came to say hello while we sat on our deck, or crawled on my hands while I worked in the garden, also gave me a sense of deep love and acceptance, and nurtured me back. I felt the hum of the universe through them.
As I processed this deep mourning, it began to shift into shame and guilt. What did I do wrong? What steps did I miss? How could I have avoided this? Am I simply not good enough to have bees? It’s a lot to move through, and as a Beekeepress, I know it is inevitable that I will have losses in the bee yard, but it still stings when it happens.
Thankfully, I have a wonderful cluster of women who lovingly offer their support. They’ve held space for me as I ask them lots of questions, and witnessed my emotions. I’ve promised to not take the losses personally, but to learn from the lessons the bees left behind for me to find.
The timing of these losses came in late February, which left me with the hurdle of March, where the world already feels cold and gray, and new life seems so far away. I allowed myself the space to fully process these emotions, and move through them. By allowing myself this space, my heart began to shift into new hope and renewal as I asked the bees what they would do. The bees would simply begin again, build their home, expand, make new queens and continue on. The hives that do make it through winter into spring rebuild their small clusters into a larger colony to support the needs of the hive. They do this without questioning their part in the bigger scheme of the universe, so must I.
Accepting these shadowy parts of ourselves is important, as we are part of this Earth, which holds many cycles of death, and rebirth. We are not just a part of nature, we are nature, so it is only natural to experience these moments of waiting in the darkness for new light, and it’s ok to be in darkness when we need reflection and rest. So I’ll choose my own metamorphosis this spring as I prepare for new bees for my yard, and the chance to start again with the unfolding promises of the season of ephemerals, bulbs and bees.
