I got stung by a bee today. For the first time in my life, I was sting by a bee. 8:30 this morning on my scooter on the way to Saturday morning free yoga I felt a piece of gravel hit me in the soft patch just above and behind my left ear. Youch. But then the gravel is wiggling. “Crap,” I thought, “that was a big bug!” followed shortly by, “Aaaand it’s still buzzing!” It was stuck up inside the straps of my scooter helmet. So I pulled over and tire offend helmet and just before I freed the bee in am attempt at krishna-like delicacy, the damn thing stung me. Right on my ear.
It felt loud. And hot. And seriously painful. Of course I immediately set to work assessing whether my lips were swelling, trying not to choke on my tongue, and wondering if this was my destiny: to go out like Thomas J from My Girl in my spandex, on my scooter, on the way to yoga. Surely not.
But it start me thinking about destiny. And signs, and omens, and hat did this MEAN? My first thought: the universe is giving me a bad son about the triathlon coming up. But what? That I don’t expect it but it’s goof to hurt bad? Thy didn’t seem quite right. Then it struck me – duh. The famous mantra: Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. It’s inspiring, right? I mean I always thought it had a ring to it, but I’ll tell you, the sting-like-a-bee party never really hit home until I was actually stung by a bee. That’s powerful, man. Powerful. And that’s what I’ll be thinking about on Monday. Stinging like a bee ain’t just poetry anymore, and it’s definitely not for sissies.