A while ago I discovered this artist, Thomas Deininger, who intrigued me. I am highly allergic to bee stings, but I like the little busy insects.

So my museful perambulations made me realize that there is a paradox in their behavior. While bees trust their hives completely, their lives are lonely and selfless, and create a tapestry of collective nurturing out of a solitary endeavor. Somewhere, once, I read about striking the balance between individual sacrifice and communal benefit.

When I was targeted by a single bee that caused me so much pain, I realized, somewhat with glee, that AHAH! the little monster had met its well-deserved demise. I felt the same when I removed gazillion bee stingers from my dogs’ floppy ears and snouts.

But then I wrote a little story on bees for my grandchildren, and came to the realization that those little bees had died away from their hive, leaving those barbed stingers in their victims or perceived enemies, but having their little abdomens torn in the process. From the buzzing life of their hive to the solitude of their lonely death, what an end nature’s harsh cycle bestows.

At the end of the day, isn’t that the crux of our lives?

And then I came across this little bee below. Many times, things are just not what they appear to be… first appearances can be deceiving. (Plato, right?).