Weekend Above the Hive
The first thing I did when I arrived was turn off the AC. It was hot , Michigan-summer hot, but I hadn't driven out to this little cabin on stilts, tucked at the back of my friends' farm, to sit in climate-controlled silence. Each bed here has small holes cut into it, so you can hear the hive living just beneath you. I lay down, put my ear to one, and listened. At one point I shifted just right so I could see through the holes and through the screens into the hive itself. Golden late-day sunlight was spilling in through the entrance, catching the wings of the bees as they scurried in and out. Such a small, ordinary miracle, and one of the most beautiful things I saw all weekend.
I tried the hive air mask too, breathing in the scent straight from the colony, nothing like honey, more mineral and warm, and it caught me off guard in the best way. I did my first meditation right there, hive breath and hive sound as my only guides, kicking off a weekend of solitude I'd been looking forward to for a long time.
The days took their own rhythm. I brought three books and finished two, plus an audiobook I listened to while lying flat over the hives. My Shakti mat came out for a session that, laced with the hum below, was some of the most soothing meditation I've done. I cooked over the fire and in the sweet little outdoor kitchen, played music, journaled more than I have in months.