How a Bumble Bee Saved the Day

With the Bank holiday ahead, I began to feel an intense pressure to act on the multiple ideas that dance around my mind continuously. These ideas which, intended as creative endevours, quickly become a tangle of self-doubt.

Instead of embracing the joy of having the extra time to play and explore with the ideas, my mind went immediately to how much there was to do, how much I didn’t know, and where on earth would I start. My body tightened, in a now familiar act of defiance.

I  headed to the sanctuary of our garden, and took a few deeper, slower breaths. 

I looked around, and I noticed two bumble bees quietly, gently collecting pollen from one rose, and then another. Moving between them gracefully, but with purpose. 

It reminded me of a Mary Oliver poem: 

"I go down to the shore in the morningand depending on the hour the wavesare rolling in or moving out,and I say, oh, I am miserable,what shall—what should I do? And the sea saysin its lovely voice:Excuse me, I have work to do.”

As I watched the bumble bee move instinctively from each rose, I found myself reflecting on how often we, as humans, become entangled in the energy of worry and what ifs—drawn into the noise of the external world and the collective sense of urgency or uncertainty. In doing so, we can lose sight of the simple, steady rhythm of sharing our gifts, our work—in the way only we can.

What might shift if, instead of overthinking or holding back, we gently brought our attention to what is asking to be done right now?

Imagine the energy we might conserve—and the impact we might create—by honouring our natural rhythm, showing up with quiet purpose, and offering our gifts one intentional step at a time.

So perhaps today, could you take a cue from the sea and the bumble bee. Let their quiet wisdom remind you: your contribution doesn’t need to be loud or perfect. It simply needs to be yours.