A Busy Little Carpenter Bee Am I

"A bee is never as busy as it seems; it’s just that it can’t buzz any slower." — Kin Hubbard

It's funny how a single day of relaxation is followed by a day of anxiety. I feel guilty for not soldiering on with my endless list of TODOs. No matter how much time I have, I suspect the list would grow to fill it. I truly am a busy little carpenter bee.

Each day I dig a little more of my tunnel into the unknown. Tiny little wood chips on the ground mark my activity. The rain occasionally washes them away leaving no trace of my work. I take no notice. Fresh chips fall lightly to the ground as I continue my life's work engaging with the unknown.

A busy little carpenter bee am I.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Grind. Grind. Grind.

The guilt I feel for resting comes from deep inside. There is a part of me desperate to build... to create... to deliver on every thought and dream. Keeping up with the fire hose of abundance is impossible, but that part of me knows no better.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Grind. Grind. Grind.

The anxiety comes from mistaking the purpose of what drives me. It does not wish to be busy. It drives me to be busy in a direction. So is it anxiety or just a sense of urgency? After all, life is fleeting when viewed through the lens of time.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Grind. Grind. Grind.

I begin to understand this drive inside of me. The abundance I experience in every moment requires countless lives to fully realize. Thus the urgency... clawing... frantic... desperate in its drive to create.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Grind. Grind. Grind.

I cannot stop this drive inside of me... this frenetic pace of creation. I cannot reason with it. I cannot placate it with cold, hard logic. So I must accept it even while I resist with small interludes of rest for the good of us both.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Grind. Grind. Grind.

A busy little carpenter bee am I.

Food for Thought

Do you feel guilty for a day of rest even when necessary?

What are you buzzing and grinding away at?

One Small Step

Even a journey into the unknown must have a direction. It guides the way forward as much as it does the way back. Busy little carpenter bees we are... in a direction.