Journey of the Bee


Bright yellow buzzy – banded by black –
lifts me by wings on a soft fuzzy back.

“Hang on,” she says quickly, now angling higher.
“Umm, hang on to what?” I nervously inquire.

“By your own intent, that answer’s made clear.”
…a sparkly-gold harness, obliging, appears…

The ground falls away – my perspective is skewed;
“Let go expectation – let go what is you,”

I hear her voice whisper, as if next to me –
as if we were chatting at 4 o’clock tea.

“Time for that later, we’re almost to land,”
though I can see nothing but mountain and sand.

She drops of a sudden – my stomach does, too –
And zigzags through yucca and sage – silver-blue.

Then on through a crevice, so dark I can’t see
my hands holding tightly to the back of a Bee.

The Mountain invites us to follow its trail,
on the breath of its Word, using mystical Braille.

The current is rapid and deep in its touch;
my companion is steady and doesn’t say much.

Soon there’s a glowing – an opening near;
we slip through the Gateway, and find ourselves Here.


“Here?” You may ask…(as I certainly was),
but the only reply is a curious “Buzz?”…

No longer a desert or mountain around –
no longer in ‘Kansas’; no land to be found.

Just a sparkling Myst with a sentient Tune,
Drawing us on like the Tide with the Moon.

As if in Her hands, we are carried a ways,
through unfathomed passes – through the Myst Lady’s maze.

And, sudden, below us a Greenness appears…
inviting us, just as the Myst disappears.

Agreeing in silence, my Bee-friend and I –
with resolute heartbeats – descend from the sky.

And the Green becomes Forest, and within that – a Song…
I can hear it and feel it – and know I belong.

Then, we notice a cottage in a grove of old trees,
whose plainsong still lingers upon the west breeze.

“This is it,” my Friend whispers, “This is where you get off.”
and she slips from beneath me, and buzzes aloft.


I watch as she vanishes into the Wood,
and contemplate whether that – maybe – I should…

When, behind me, a rustling makes all of that moot –
I’m startled and panicked (scared stupid, to boot!)

A hand on my shoulder assures me once more
that I’ve made a good choice in accessing this Shore.

My Journey is affirmed – my courage supported –
In stepping beyond what fears I had courted.

She stands there, just waiting, as I turn around –
gently smiling in welcome while holding her ground.

Tis Brighid, the Smithee, whose heart quite enfolds me,
whose calmness is soothing, whose energy holds me.

And here I will write of the Wonder that came –
in my transforming Journey through the Bright Lady’s Flame.


“Welcome, again, Lady Silverhawk. Good to see you back. Come on inside.”
And so we walked slowly to the Cottage, and went in. Upon her small wooden table, three place settings for tea were waiting. Curiously, I sat down, as Brighid called out, “You may bring in the tea, Lady Maern.”
Puzzled by all this, I was pleasantly surprised to meet again my old Elf-friend from the northern Green Isle; mentor of my first Initiation, some 20 years ago.
“Wow! It’s so great to see you!” I exclaimed, feeling a bit inadequate in expressing my words and emotions.
“And a pleasure to see you again, truly. Lady Firehawk (and at this she glanced at Brighid) has been catching me up with all your exploits these last many years. Quite impressive.”
“Only following the Path, Lady. Only trying to honor your original Gift.”
“And you have. Quite so.”
Brighid Firehawk responded then.
“Which is why you are here. And we are here. To assist you in yet another transition, another initiation.”
Little ripples of apprehension scurried over the pond of my heart, but I took the next breath.
“See, just as always, Lady Firehawk. She steps beyond her fear.”
“Though she remains holding attached to it.”
And they continued speaking of me, as if I were not there.
“Though you know better.”
This was from Lady Maern, reading my thoughts and heart.
“I know,” I replied.
“So, then,” Brighid said, “let us on with the Ceremony.”
“Indeed. Would we have it any other way… miss an opportunity for celebration? I think not!”


So, later that night, in the fullest new moon I have ever witnessed, the Rite of Passage unfolded before me. Lady Maern was my constant companion, explaining the rituals – explaining that it was the focus on the rituals that pre-occupied the mind and allowed for the deeper transition – for the more profound initiatory transformation. I felt sure I would never remember any of the words and corresponding actions I would be called upon to perform. I was quite afraid of messing up the entire ceremony by some inane, foolish, or inappropriate response, but again I was comforted – not only by Lady Maern, but also occasionally by Brighid herself.
As the Night darkened to its deepest blue, the Fire danced with it, in solemn anticipation. There was an intense and intricate weaving of the Flames with the Original Web. I could see it, as I sat focused on the Fire.
“You will dance through that, tonight,” came a whisper behind me.
But I did not shift my focus from the Fire to see who it was. There was a sense of more Folk nearby and arriving: Companions of my Quest, I knew. I remained focused, and began dancing with the Flames, weaving within and without, creating a pyroglyphic Celtic knot – a new sigil upon my Shield, now blank with the hope of re-birth.
At some point, I know, I was entranced by the Fire – One with it – Companion to it – Dance and Dancer – Fire, Self, and Transformative Spirit Energy – interconnecting our Sentience. I was lost to thought, and only imperceptibly felt the escalating drumming and chanting of the Ceremony around me.
From beyond the Fire’s domain, a Voice:
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.” I answered, although I had barely any connection to reply, but it was enough.
“You will see before you a Path: a woven bridge of Fire-threads.”
“Come Here, then. Come Home upon them.”
And so, I stood up, concentrating completely on the Bright Bridge at my feet. Nothing else existed but the Bridge. I focused intently and absolutely on the Fire-fibers woven before me. Though at one point I faltered, still the calm Voice drew me on – encouraging, affirming.
I felt, sometimes, like I was engaged in a fierce battle with myself, balancing that with the intense determination to cross the Bridge, to follow this Path to its Nexus. As this battle crescendoed, I no longer heard anything… not chants or drums; not the Voice; nothing. I clung to my Self and my Quest, in desperate perseverance – one step at a time; one breath at a time. So completely focused was I that I was startled, feeling hands upon my shoulders, hugs, tears, excited whispers. I was still so focused… such a survival skill.
Then, cold water splashed in my face… Ok, that was a shock – but it broke me from my self-induced trance, and brought me back to here. I saw all my Journey-friends, from all the Realms I have visited – and some, apparently, that I don’t remember visiting. Smiles, compassionate handshakes and nods and mind-touches. How cool! As I began to re-integrate into the Present, both Lady Maern and Lady Brighid Firehawk approached me. They held in their hands a belt and a mantle.
“This belt is a piece of the Fire-fiber; this mantle is a symbol of your successful Passage. Choose what you will.”
I asked them to hold the Mantle, while I took the Fire-fiber in my hands. I proceeded to weave it into the Celtic symbol I had co-created with the Fire and the Creative Force. Then, I wove it into the Mantle.
“This, now, I will wear.” And I wrapped it about my shoulders with their help. Brighid produced a silver-gold clasp, from some unknown pocket, and attached it to the front of the Mantle. Lady Maern wove her seal of protection onto the left shoulder. Then they stepped back.
“You’ve done well, Lady,” Brighid spoke gently. She smiled so warm and deep that I could not help but smile back, and gave her the biggest hug I had. I turned and gave the Lady Maern one, too. Then, she winked at me, and said quietly:
“Your Bee is waiting…”