using the arrow buttons.
by clicking on the page.
the page around when zoomed in by dragging it.
the zoom using the slider when zoomed-in.
by clicking on the zoomed-in page.
by entering text in the search field, and select "This Issue" or "All Issues"
by clicking on thumbnails to select pages, and then press the print button.
displays sections with thumbnails and descriptions.
displays a slider of thumbnails. Click on a page to jump.
allows you to browse the full archive.
about your subscription?
Lions Roar : November 2011
SHAMBHALA SUN NOVEMBER 2011 72 Another one of my friends, more like an acquaintance, says I should just get some bug spray and let the bees have it. That’s what she would do. I have no idea how her marriage is going. We aren’t that close. I have another friend, married to a cop who works the swing shift (meaning she never sees him), and she says that the best way to remove bees is to go out—late at night—and simply ask them to leave in a firm yet loving voice. “I do this all the time with sugar ants,” she says. “And you know what, they just skitter away.” This woman has recently launched a practice as a clairvoyant. She says she can see auras. FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS, I make it a daily practice to study the industry of the bumblebees. After the kids are fed and taken to school, I sit with my elbows on my knees on the bottom step of the back porch, just a few feet south of the nest, and I watch bees lift off, fly over to the hydrangea and beyond, and return. Bumblebees, according to the law of aerodynamics, are not supposed to fly. The body is the issue; it’s just too big for those tiny wings. And yet, there they go—over and over again. Appar- ently this is about wing speed. They are the hummingbirds of the insect kingdom. A bumblebee, therefore, defies logic and science. I have discovered that in early Christian traditions, monks lived in beehive shaped huts, which represented the aim of a har- monious community. The hum sound of chanting is like that hum sound of bee industry. While I am not a practicing Christian, having set that tradition aside long ago, I am a student of Tibetan Buddhism. Each day, I finger prayer beads, read books written by enlightened mas- ters, and even meditate. It’s true—there is a hum to my chants of mantra which I accumulate for the benefit of all (which includes bees). I hadn’t thought of it that way before. While my former husband mocks my interest in Buddha, reminding me that I was never spiritual in all the angry years we spent together, I remain focused. Without the constraints of our marriage, I like to think that perhaps I am something like the bumblebee. Meditation, which is—in part—an effort to tran- scend the human condition of suffering, defies the law of reason and aerodynamics. According to a book I read, Power versus Force by David Hawkins, less than half a percent of the human popula- tion will achieve transcendent states like pure love. Hawkins also writes that we, as a species, are stuck in the age of reason, meaning that every problem can be rationalized or explained. Yet, when one transcends to higher states, reason and logic no longer apply. There is no reason for the bees and yet, as I study them (versus slaughter them), I discover I am the bees and in an odd way, the bees are me. Perhaps that is why they are here, taking over the backyard. “WHATCHA DOING?” Spencer asks. He stands at the threshold of the back door and holds a mug Master of Arts (MA) in Buddhist Studies Master of Divinity (MDiv) Tibetan Language Translation Group Extension Program (Open Admission) & Online Study Options for Many Courses scholarship. meditation. service 1119 SE Market Street | Portland, Oregon 97214 telephone: 503-235-2477 | email: