Be a Bee
Bee is a flying insect which is fascinated me more than other insects of the small world of my childhood. The world in which I used to see butterflies more than flies and bees more than beasts. But when a person becomes an adult he/she has already lost that magic eyes of childhood by which a male or female kid can see the world just a piece of colors. So in term of that I can say that adulthood is a daily black white routine, and our childhood compare to that is a never repeated colourful movie.
I remember one day when our neighbour was climbing a large oak tree a cross the street and holding his arm in free air like something was not belonged to him. I wasnít sure what he was doing, a tall man climbing a tall tree. But I didnít move from where I was standing despite of the unstopping bugging from my friend who was letting every thing go like non interested stuff. Therefore, when we grew up he became a sheep ready to be scarified, on the contrast I became a bee ready to sting.
He has built a palace like house and chose the East as a home to live while I decided to fly toward the West right to the far edge where all dreams end!
Let us go back to that man on the tree and under which I was happily taking my time to ponder after my friend left unhappily.
I was wondering to know what would be coming next and I kept asking myself silently with my teeth nailing my upper lip. What the hell this elder man doing on the tree!?
He didnít notice me while I was spying on him there.
As soon as he managed to leave the trunk of tree behind he was able to found a thick branch in the middle of the tree and because of plentiful leaves I could barley see him. However his left arm which was elbowed right to the peak of his knee was so obvious to me. And that part was important for me because as I said before his way of holding his arm was the most perplexing thing to me. The arm that seemed not belong to him, and now while I was watching it just by itself in the air amongst thousands of green leaves, it resembled as a burned branch from another non existing oak tree.
I waited for next with two wide open eyes full of surprise!
After a few minutes I heard a whizzing sound all around, consequently the both irises of my eyes were spinning in two different directions just like two number eight black balls of billiard game. The man seemed to be too busy to notice me. Any how he didnít notice me till he climbed down carefully after he had done a delicate amazing task.
Now you have absolute rights to ask me what that task was, additionally Iím going to tell you right know.
He was just trying to gather his escaped kingdom of bees from his home, and to confuse these mindless beautiful insects, he simply put sugar syrup all around his left arm as bewildering tool to gather them again.
And Iím totally away to tell you if these innocent beneficial insects are aware to notice the difference between the taste of sugar and nectar.
I waited till the man climbed down and it was already dusk therefore instead seeing a tree green like an hour ago it looked like a gigantic flame of fire. And the man was looked like a Zoroastrian pious, because of the way of holding his left arm and which was similar to a torch of Olympia because the colour and movement of the bees.
He was sweating because of climbing up and then down to the tree without using his left hand, also forty minute of yogic waiting, but despite of all that his face seemed victorious to me.
As soon as he saw me, he smiled at me at that dusky hour and told me ďBe a bee never leave your home at this hourĒ
That evening day I listened to him and I ran directly to my home!
However years later I didnít care any more about the like sayings of that evening and any other conservative elderly advises.
Therefore I refused to be a bee like the one that were flying astray to find a place in our neighbourís left arm.
I flew as far as my wings were taking me to, to where I could taste the real nectar and fly free.
Where no man could arrest me by giving me a deadly sugar!