
No, not those birds and bees—the actual ones. The other day, I was reading on my deck, enjoying the fresh, sweet summer air that, for once in recent weeks, was not scorching and unforgiving. I’ll tell you—the more I sit still, the more I notice details around me.
In a matter of an hour or two, I witnessed a little songbird sway on a dandelion stem before flitting off again, a honey bee hard at work in my aptly named “busy bee sunflower” patch, a robin listening for worms, and a hummingbird hover near me for a heartbeat and a flutter of wings before darting away just as quickly.
Every time I think I’ve grown bored of nature or am indifferent to its charms—due to life stressors or low energy or a slip of an inner crutch or what have you—it proves me wrong.
Even with the pressures of adult life pressing on all sides, with all their uncertainties and unknowns, the birds still hunt for worms, the bees still pollinate, and hummingbirds hum.
I’ll admit much of this mindset is fed by my current reading habits, finally diving into the Anne of Green Gables world and regretting that I did not read them as a child. The comfort of knowing Anne would have been a balm for my tender, young dreamer heart—the priceless representation of a fellow imaginative mind meeting similar challenges I experienced myself.
Still, I believe books find us when we most need them, and lord knows I need some imagination right now. Don’t we all, in this economic climate? But I am not here to write about politics; never fear.
Imagination should be nurtured. Some say they don’t have imagination, but I feel that they were simply never taught how to look beyond what’s really there.
Once you can do that, the world becomes less “Ugh, I hate it when the slugs leave trails through the patio, gross” and more “Look! There was a slug road trip last night, and they kept following bad directions from the beetles.”
There are stories everywhere when we train ourselves to look for them. It may seem silly at first, but this type of mental stimulation translates to how we view other people in our environments, as well. It can quickly turn into compassion and empathy.
In other words, it trains us to think of different perspectives and consider the complex lives of every single being we come into contact with in a day.
The lady who was short with you at the store becomes beautiful because maybe she worked a 12 hour shift only to have to shop afterward, and then prepare a meal, and then have only a few minutes to herself before bed.
That doesn’t mean the behavior is excused or accepted, but when you give that person a story, it’s easier to let the moment pass and end right there without dwelling on it and carrying the feelings of offense with you for the next 24hrs.
Imagination can be a form of grace when we practice it enough.
But it’s also important to keep things rooted in some thread of plausibility, or things can get more muddled than needed.
Did you know that the saying “the birds and the bees” in reference to human reproduction, though typically relating to bees pollinating flowers to symbolize male fertilization and birds laying eggs as a symbol for female ovulation, also has a version where a bee stings a bird and that creates a baby? Imagine that!
One small misunderstanding and someone may be led to believe bees and birds can reproduce with one another, or that all babies come from birds and bees.
That’s a good reminder that though imagination is a gift, it’s important to remember core truths when imagining things about others. Considering perspectives does not have the same whimsy as speculating about slug travel habits or bird conversations.
It’s all a matter of perspective.
Speaking of perspective, I always find it fascinating to research where sayings originate from. Some say The Birds and the Bees comes from a poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge titled “Work Without Hope,” others say it’s from a collection of published journals by John Evelyn.
The truth is it probably started in many places at once, and everyone collectively agreed to pass it on and on and on until now, when a 24-year-old typing on a device that didn’t exist at its conception would use it for an eye-grabbing blog header.
We have always found parts of human life in nature and vice versa, directly or indirectly. Too often we forget that it’s the living things around us, and the stories they hold, that give any sort of order and meaning to anything.
Yes, I’m afraid little Anne Shirley has thoroughly infiltrated my mindset, and I’d say for the better. That’s why I love books so dearly. They swoop in at just the right time with a mystery or an answer and make life bright again.
When was the last time you sat and watched for a while, with or without the company of a book? There is so much life at hand if we look for it.
Further, when was the last time you exercised your imagination without using it to imagine the worst case scenario?
Thank you for reading, and please enjoy Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “Work Without Hope,” for those curious:
“All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair —
The bees are stirring — birds are on the wing —
And Winter, slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.
Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!
With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll:
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And Hope without an object cannot live.”