The 22 whizzed by, a woman with a Golden-doodle walked too closely behind me, her dog’s leash whooshed increasingly loudly in the air, the group of Christians protesting on the corner shouted and waved their signs, the occasional car honked, and the sun prickled the top of my scalp.
Meanwhile, I circled through a junk drawer of open loops from the past six months; they’re heaps of to-do’s piled somewhere deep in the depths of my memory. And so, I bullet-pointed them across my mind. I interrogated myself, and took note of what actions I needed to actually take and when.
But, in the middle of my mental planning, something sharp jabbed into my right leg’s flesh. Pausing, I shifted my head down to find something hanging on my jeans; I dusted it off. I’ve never been stung by a bee. At first, what happened didn’t even register to me as a bee sting, despite the pain.
Of course, once it did click, my anxiety brain leaped to panic: Am I allergic? Do I need my inhaler? Why don’t I have my inhaler? Why don’t I even know if I’m allergic? Is it only a matter of seconds before the muscles completely constrict my bronchial tubes and my airways become so blocked I die? Naturally, the scene from the movie My Girl, where an adorable Macaulay Culkin gets stung by a million bees and dies, played in my head. I noticed the sound of my breathing felt amplified. I estimated how long it would take to walk to the hospital down the road.
Yet, standing there, I realized something: I actually felt fine. My throat didn’t clench, my chest didn’t tighten, I could breathe. I checked my leg to examine the sting; a small pink prick; it looked mostly okay. So, after a few minutes of internally debating it, I decided to ignore it and kept walking. But, with every step, I felt so completely vulnerable to life; reminded that I can’t control what happens to me. At the same time, I think that’s also what it means to be immersed in life.
And the bee did what it does; bees sting to protect themselves and I just happened to be walking in its path. It’s odd to think about, though; the way something can cause harm instinctively. Did it know? As I walked, I wondered if I could cultivate gratitude for the bee; and if I could feel empathy, compassion, and love.
I mean, the sting did yank me out of my head. It brought me back to the moment; grounded me in myself, in my environment, in my life. I needed that. I sometimes float away. Though, I’m also always trying to come back. So, maybe that’s what it did; it offered me an opportunity to come back, and begin again.
I'm glad you're ok 😅
Haha no, I totally get you. I was also bitten by a bee for the first time when I was older, like 28, and also wondered how it would be. I laughed at your hypochondriac rabbit hole because it's so relatable.
[Big tangent: I found it funny that when I started reading about the bee sting, I immediately thought of that scene from that movie. And then when you mentioned the title of that movie I looked it up thinking it was another movie, but oh surprise! It's not called Mi Primer Beso in English and never knew that was the original title. How can a scene be so defining for a generation? Do you think that cinema is the medium that has the most of that kind of collective impact? I think I do, and also think that there are less generation-defining movies nowadays, probably because there are way more movies]
Anyway, on your message, sometimes the simplest things bring the most profound reflections. And this could all be a meditation! It's like those Moments in the Waking Up app. Great reminder to begin again.