Spring Bee Hiving Moon
Having said all that. (see post below) Reclaiming, celebrating the power of spring’s wonder is an important part of the Great Wheel’s message. What the motif of the dying and rising god suggests (there is legitimate debate around this idea, but it’s not critical to my point here.) is the obvious. Death is a central fact of the human experience, yet it is a fact shrouded in mystery and pain. What exactly is death? Not physiologically, but psychologically, spiritually. What does it mean? If anything. What happens after death to the person who dies?
We just don’t know the answers. This black box characteristic of death makes it so upsetting. Without further knowledge we have to assume that extinction is the basic result. Having had a man die and come to back life with the message that, hey, you, too, can die and still have everlasting life is compelling. The story alone has carried itself into millions, probably billions of heart, easing the mystery for them.
As I said earlier, I can’t see that it matters much. Look at it another way, either Jesus did or did not rise from the dead. If he didn’t, well, we’re back where we started. If he did, and it’s the true sign of a loving God, then that same God will not build a doctrinal fence around the afterlife. It’ll more likely be a heavenly version of y’all come. We did say he/she was a loving god, didn’t we?
So, I’ll pass on all the paperwork and skip straight to the flowers emerging in my garden. Or, perhaps more germane to the story of rising from the dead, I’ll also tend to what I believe is a living bee colony. Yes, I went out today and bees were buzzing all around the hive I thought was dead. Surprised the hell out of me.
Could be honey robbers, but I don’t think so. I’ll have to suit up tomorrow morning and see. Afternoons are not a great time to check bees. They’re coming home and pretty protective.
Yes, I claim in my own soul the emergent joy of each daffodil, each tulip, each crocus, each lily, each iris, each fern, each hosta, each pachysandra, each apple, cherry, plum and pear tree, the magnolia, the gooseberries, the elderberries, the currants, the quince, the strawberries and the garlic, all those members of our family here at Artemis Gardens and Hives. I will rise with each of them, spreading out, greeting the sun, creating new energy from the sun, the soil and the water, bursting with a new season’s vitality.
The virtue for me in this celebration is that it requires no dusty tomes of medieval logic, no interminable meetings to decide the color of the altar banners, no envelopes chucked in a metal plate, no weighty hands pressing down in ordination. All it requires is some love. Shoulda been enough for the church, too.
