The Bumblebee and the Hawk

             The bumblebee and the hawk is the fourth in a succession of these in October and November.  Each came about a week apart in the same manner as my whispers: as flashes that interrupt my own mundane thoughts, those petty thoughts of my “human self.”  Prior to those five last fall, I heard “whispers,” but rarely saw visions.  Since then, I have not seen a single one.  My own imagination is too dull to conjure these; they come from a source of mystery much more wise and clever than I am. 

            Each of these seemed to me to be what I call a “metaphor of life” and they expressed messages to clarify the sense I’ve perceived, mostly in thanks to my whispers, of the parts of our human creation shown to me as the “human self” and the “eternal self” in Adam’s creation in Genesis 2:7.  The “human self” is the part formed by the dust of the earth and the “eternal self” is the one formed by the divine breath.  Unlike the convoluted logic of Augustine, still tragically taught by some churches, we are not made “in sin.”  The scriptures consistently present us in duality: the dust part – our “human self” and the breath part – our “eternal self.” 

Each vision expressed a different metaphor with its own facet of these selves within us.  I posted the first, the Smorgasbord, in November; then came Artificial Sweetener, posted in January, and then the Deep-end Diver and the Backstroke Swimmers, posted in February.   Now for the Bumblebee and the Hawk:

             This vision began with a bumblebee buzzing and flying about in a garden.  I watched it land on a yellow flower, suck it, and pollinate it.  Then it buzzed to another flower, repeating its movements.

             The bumblebee is like a healthy human self.

             My whispers of mystery had just interjected.  Here was a healthy bumblebee doing its job, serving its purpose.  My whispers had likened it to the human self, demonstrating, in contrast to traditions that have looked critically upon what they call the “lower self” or the “ego.”  If this bumblebee is healthy and serving its purpose, then certainly what has been shown to me as the “human self” is not at all to be despised.  It is natural, serves a purpose, and when healthy, contributes to its community, even perhaps to the world. 

            I watched the bumblebee continue to move about quickly, every which way.  I, his observer, did not know where he was going or where he would land next, though I presumed to another flower.  Wherever it was to be, he had a destination, he had a purpose, and he was fulfilling it. 

            Next, I saw a housefly, buzzing about loudly, jerking in its movements; smashing into a window; randomly buzzing up, down, diagonal; again smashing into the window. 

            This housefly is like the subconscious part of the human self.

             My whispers had returned.  I hadn’t anticipated this mystery.  Shifting to the fly from the bee, I had expected the fly to represent an “unhealthy” human self.  But, as I’ve said, my whispers are smarter than me, and they like to surprise me with riddles. 

            Its movements adhere to rules you don’t understand.  He seems to you to be unpredictable, random, uncontrolled.

             Certainly.  Ever try to swat a housefly?

             His eyes are mysteriously constructed, but they follow a structure.  So does the subconscious part of the human self, though, it too can often take you into directions that baffle you. 

            I thought of what Paul said in Romans 7 that the flesh within him does what he doesn’t want to do and doesn’t do what he does want to do. 

            The deep-end diver, however, learns to control the housefly.

             My whispers then replayed the part of my previous vision showing the deep-end diver diving toward the bottom of the swimming pool.  My whispers were getting more sophisticated; they were bringing in the previous vision.  In that one, I had reflected that the water symbolized emotion and cleansing, that diving into our emotions is terrifying, but also cleansing.  Now my whispers seemed to suggest the water also represents our subconscious self and that diving into it helps us to control what otherwise appears to us to be uncontrollable.

             Next I was shown a hawk soaring high through the sky, beautiful, glorious, with wings outstretched, showing no movement of his own at all.  He was perfectly gliding, letting the breeze carry him.

             The hawk is like the eternal self. 

            This time, my whispers spoke what I had anticipated.  Sometimes, I can be smart, or maybe just when it’s really obvious.  

I sensed that the hawk’s glide represented the energy the eternal self can manifest when it is set free to do so.  Like the hawk, the eternal self can rely upon strength of its wings and the breeze of the air to carry it to its destination. 

The bumblebee can become the hawk. 

Huh, another riddle.  My whispers opened the vision to a great many flying creatures, starting with insects like butterflies, dragonflies, and praying mantises.  Then I was shown many birds of all types, shapes, sizes and colors, beginning with tiny mockingbirds rapidly fluttering their little wings to robins, blue jays, toucans, and birds of such variety I know not their names. 

            Many permutations through many insects and many birds will take place along the way.  Keep your eyes on the hawk and the permutations will come. 

            This time, I thought of the words of Lao Tzu, who said “great acts are made up of small deeds” (Tao Te Ching, stanza 63).  He’s also the one who made famous, in the following stanza, “the journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step” (or, in many translations, “beneath your feet”).  The bumblebee doesn’t just magically become the hawk; many steps are taken along the way. 

            Remember the vision of the Smorgasbord.  If you enter the spaces between the delights, you will learn to glide like the hawk. 

            Now they brought in the first vision they had given to me a month earlier.  I sat stunned by their brilliance to connect these visions.  In that vision, they showed a great buffet table of delights, not only of delicious foods, but also of tempting material possessions, toys and cars, and so forth.  After showing the smorgasbord of delights, they had whispered that they greatest treasures were in the spaces between the delights. 

            My whispers then returned the vision to the hawk.  As I sat in awe and envy of him, gliding so high, so effortlessly, my whispers relayed their closing message: 

To sail the winds like the hawk, the human self must slow down and let go.  Let the winds carry you.  Trust the winds.  While learning, the human self will doubt, and if those doubts stay too strong or for too long, you will descend.  The wind carries only the hawk who trusts.  The eternal self in training will glide for a bit, then descend, then buzz like the bumblebee once again.  As long you don’t give up, but persevere, committed to glide like the hawk, the eternal self will emerge and the hawk will glide, even soar to great distances using very little energy.

 Other Metaphors of Life

The Smorgasbord

Artificial Sweetener

The Deep-end Diver and the Backstroke Swimmers

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