“As I see it, an inspired life is one that first, and foremost, resonates with you. It's living to your potential, living the life of your calling or purpose and living a life of passion. The bonus is that living your “inspired” life is likely to inspire others who will learn and benefit from your example”. – Chris Harris
If you only knew the whole story of my life, you would hardly believe what I have been through, have overcome, have thrived in spite of. I take little credit for surviving some of the things that happened. There was something greater than I, that wrapped in in its care while the bed burned around me and my jammies were burned off me and I did not so much as have a singed hair. Something other than me held me close while my teenaged girlfriends and I were spun out of control and rather than being rolled over, we ended up simply spinning in one place and ending up in the same direction as we were traveling on that country gravel road. Something other than me made a Toyota roll over and over and over along the bridge of a steep hill (about ¼ mile deep gully) rather than plunge us end of over down to absolute certain death. (Nothing more than a concussion and a few days in hospital). One more ( I could tell of many many more): Something other than me took me down with a pop in my brain, took me through learning to walk and talk again, brought me home to my babies (my baby, Jordon Parrish, was 6 months old, ShirRae BryAnne was 1 ½, Dustin Oak was 3 ½, Lainee Jo was 6, JanaDee was 12, Troy Andrew was 14, Michael Paul was 16). It took me a year and a half to get my body, mind, heart and soul better (not ever 100%), leave my husband, go to University, ace it, have a great career for 23 years, raise good human beings and send them off into the world to do their own good service to their worlds, and I would carry on and continue to grow and thrive. I am turning 75 in a few days. Besides the growing pains of becoming elderly, I am still thriving whether I want to or not. There is something greater than us that knows our purpose. I manage the reactions to such things. I make choices (some of them danged rotten) but my best choices lead me towards a best life. My choices are, in most cases, inspired. I tend to believe I am being led towards something, that fulfils my purpose down here on this beautiful blue orb. I do not need to know my purpose. I simply need to lead the kind of life my soul has set boundaries for. In a way, inspiration is that Red Thread that is connected between me and thee and something bigger than myself. Much of it is innate. I have lived the life of a bee.
Sister Bee only lives 6 weeks and virtually works herself to death, never getting lost in the shuffle because she has one job to do and does not veer from that. She innately knows what to do. Is she inspired to do so? She is as replaceable as I, yet she does what she feels she is supposed to. She has her own unique experiences in that microworld of hers.
Sister Bee wakes up with the sun and shudders off the night, cleans herself up, and off she goes to do the work she never chose to do but is inspired to do. She is inspired to follow a path to her most favorite blossoms to gather pollen to bring back to her tribe. She is totally focused on doing for others. I believe her inspiration comes from the sun – the sun tells her/makes her know what to do and when and where and why. She enters the heart of a blossom, gathers pollen in her leg baskets, and drinks a goodly portion of sweet nectar. She heads home to store her gatherings, seals off the one of thousands of cups so it can make bee bread, and immediately heads back out to forage, again and again and again and again. She is inspired to find new patches of flowers once one patch has been depleted. Without stopping, she does for the hive. It is her birthright to do so. She is given the body, mind, tools to do her job.
Without a break, she is driven to fill those hive cups and seal them, and, hopefully, without any trouble in the air, find a new patch and continue until that patch is depleted an then she is inspired to go find another store.
At some point, during the afternoon, she doe not fill a cup for herself and she passes off pollen to a processor bee, who passes it off to another worker with her own specific job to do all her life. It is all about the hive. She spits out her gatherings and the other bees spits it out again when passing it to a bee who plops it all into a special area in the hive. She has made the last step in making honey and the honey cup is filled, then fanned to get rid of any extra moisture and then the cup is sealed. It is storage for a long winter for the goo of the whole hive.
Immediately, Sister Bee shares information about where she found a new lovely patch of blossoms. Th story thrills all the ones who hear it and she immediately, full of passion and production, heads out for another gathering trip. This trip might be fraught with illuding birds with wings that beat 230 times a second. In doing so, she loses her internal map that she was inspired to follow. With her flitting and flitting, she saves herself, and, as a reward, the Universe gives her a whole new patch of incredibly nectar-laden flowers. She gathers as fast as she can, says a little bee prayer, gets her answer and knows what direction home is. When she arrives, she is so excited that she dances her bee-code gps coordinates in her little waggle dance and quickly dumps her load and races off, thrilled to think what she is about to gather for the good of all.
When she becomes tired of flying back and forth, she tends to the hive. There are those that have gone to Bee Heaven due to exhaustion and need proper removal. She cares for the feeders and the processors by preening them. If she notices a crack in the hive, she will go and get some certain kind of sap to glue things together. And she does not stop working until evening falls.
As the sun falls, it becomes cooler and everyone comes back to the hive. Sister Bee cuddles up to all her sisters and they are like girls, at a sleep-over, whispering about the adventures of the day, the miracle’s, the way that they were inspired to go oner place or another to find a wealth of nectar and pollen. It is time for her to sleep. But, amidst the quiet hum, the newest baby bees are waking and shaking themselves off to prepare for instructions for the day. The inside workers will live 45- 60 days. . She will live 15 - 30 days and will crawl out of the hive and find a place to die of exhaustion. Her purpose is fulfilled. She listened , totally and allowed herself to be led to do what she was meant to do.
Every living thing has inner inspiration. It is a voice that can whisper, a voice that can shout, a voice that can demand, a voice that sings, a voice that urges. Creativity is the best way I know, for me, to connect to inspiration. It will lead us to the path we are supposed to walk. Sometimes, that voice is a nudge to correct our path. It is the holder of our sense of guilt or shame when we are not following our path. It will keep us going when we must be kept at it. It will protect us when we need protecting. An inspired life is one where service for the good of all is happening. I believe it shines through, as an aura that others can feel. It means we need to dump our burdens that cloud or block inspiration. None of us is meant to live an ordinary life, and most times, we are not, without even thinking about it. Listen! Listen. She speaks to you!
©Carol Desjarlais 7.12.22
No comments:
Post a Comment