The Whirling Bee is a flow of journeys within, beyond and in-between. Reality has no walls, no edges, it’s like the air: we breathe it in and we breathe it out.
I sat down by the curb (it was a street at night, without any public lights) and waited. The Sun came to see me. His head was a glowing orb, and his face had the expression of a child ready to do mischief. His hands were huge, as if they belonged to a big plush figure. They reminded me of Little Red Riding Hood:
I noticed some dark figures emerging out of the fog of a sphere, I was not sure whether they were trees or people or something in-between, but I got tense, and I could feel pain in my belly. “Don’t be afraid” said the golden bee who accompanied me (she had a female voice), and I tried to focus on her instead of the creatures around me, but couldn’t quite manage. Then she started to circulate around me anti-clockwise, embracing, “don’t be afraid. breathe. slower…. slower”. I could feel her warmth, but sometimes the shadows seemed to have faces, staring at me, and I felt so… guilty… so ashamed.
I was in the forest. I recognized it from a series of dreams I had some ten years ago. They were powerful and scary dreams, but I only remember the last one in detail: I was facing an army of the dead, and in the end, I buried them all with water, fire, soil and Sun.
I was on a wheat field, lying on the ground. It was sunset or dusk, and there were some people moving around, as if covered in colourful vapour. One of them, an old woman, came to me and sat behind me, by my head. I could not move. I was waiting for the bee to come, but she wouldn’t, and I was disappointed. The old woman put her hands on my head. “you are too willful” – she said gently, “let it go”. She pulled my head a bit towards her, my neck felt very long, and she gently tucked in my jaw towards my chest. Then she put her thumb on my chin and pressed it down so that my mouth opened, and a bird flew out.
I found myself in a narrow boat, like a canoe. There was somebody sitting at my head, rowing. I was lying on my back, staring at the sky above me. I saw some spots of light shooting by, they looked like fireflies, except the bee who was flying very close to me. Then I realized they were not fireflies but stars, and that even though it felt like we were hardly moving at all, we were in fact gliding so fast the stars seemed to leave a trail on our breaths…
I was in an old forest, it was late afternoon or evening, and a group of children were running around, laughing, chasing each other. Then it started to snow… I was surprized, because it felt like summer, warm and green… but then I realized that what surrounded us was not snow but seeds from a cottonwood tree. There was hardly any wind, we were enveloped in small, luminous feathers, playing in the colours of the setting sun. The world was in slow motion, as if we were all floating. I looked around, observing all the details, the lights, the colours, and I noticed that there was a river close by, and a boat on the bank. There was an old couple sitting by the boat. I remembered the woman from previous journeys. I didn’t recognize the man, but I could tell from the way they looked at each other that they were intimate.
I was in the forest, again. I heard birds, and as I looked up, I saw a group of cranes flying by. They turned and started in the opposite direction, as if they bumped into a wall and had to change course. Then again, to and fro, as if they were sewing the sky together, and the distance between one end and the other was becoming smaller and smaller, until there was indeed a wall, one of water at either end, closing. I was not sure whether the cranes were bringing them together or the walls were pushing the cranes, but at one point they touched and the whole world submerged in water, including me. I saw sunlight filtering through, playing on the grass, and it was so beautiful, so peaceful…
I was in my childhood home, the house seemed to breathe in the half-light. It was empty. I went to the window, and looked at the curtain. I used to spend so much time like that when I was small, staring at the light playing between the patterns… Then I was outside. We lived at the very end of the town, just a few houses and it was open fields… I started for the grasslands in the sunset. I saw some children ride their bicycles on the power lines above, rolling gleefully in the violet dusk, with great speed. I watched them and wished I was up there, too, on the cables, speeding away into the sunset… but I didn’t know how to go up, and didn’t have a bike, either.