july 19, sacred bee, craigslist, women for men, portland, 64.

stung by a giant bumble bee right next to my left eye

shamanic visioning, drumming, ancient sensings, intuitive connections.

earliest mornings birds singing around the house. crow caws for corn.

fog over ocean holding the smell of fish. expectancy. purpose. bright

yellow gold finch brings good luck.

Riding the circle of the island. Sun has risen into a hazy sky. Heatwave. Goldfinch, my mother's good luck bird, flies next to me, to my right. The ocean has a smell of fish. Seagulls dot the low tide seaweed. Some kind of fish is around, reminding me of years back when I was lobstering and pogies were chased by bluefish and came up onto the shore by the hundreds. Free bait. Today, I do not need to haul a lobster trap. I can simply enjoy the sense of smell of fish as I bike along. Pushing the bike up the last hill, I stop to smell a rose, wet with last night's rain and this morning's dew, I rub my forehead against the pink wetness, a blessing.

If I can see everything as a blessing, I'm okay. Yesterday going into the grocery store, I see something dark and enormous on my shirt, then under my hair and crawling. I startle and start to brush it off, ask for assistance, but what I learn is a giant bumble bee crawls up my face somehow and stings me at the corner of my left eye. I get an ice cube from a kid who works there. Ride with my groceries to the dump with my friend. I have had a dream where tiny white wiggly worms are in a cup of tea she gives me and she is then going into a bedroom and yelling at her son, somehow he is connected. After she dumps her trash, she is standing by the trunk, making loud brushing noises for a long time. She gets back in the car and says maggots have gotten into her trunk from the trash bag. Everything so connected. As to the bee, I mix a paste of baking soda and water, use ice, take benadryl and zone out, but the pain remains. An achy sort of feeling this morning. When I come back from the store, I go to the bathroom mirror to look at my eye, and a different stinging insect is on the other side of my hair. I simply shake it off and it flies away, but the bee. Sacred bee. I've just watched a video about women who take care of bees, their bee hives. The synchronicity of ancient practice of bee keeping and women's frame drumming. I touch the drum stored in the open space at my feet, and give it a quick tap, light a candle, and set it in the middle of the room. Burn a tiny piece of sage. 

I got burned by the sun a few days ago.. Staying out longer than usual, I did not notice it happening. I sat alone on some distant ledges, put my feet in a tide pool,

scraped a toe on a barnacle. Unfamiliar territory and tide so low there was no hope of submerging. I leave that area after a time and go back to the sandy beach, which was so full, I could not find a space to park my bike earlier. This time there is space and I go to the sand, submerge, sit, paint. A young woman opens up to my friend and me. Her mother had died when she was very young. Overdose. She opens her little wine coolers in their plastic tubs with rip off covers. One after another. I tell her I am in 'recovery' and she accidentally spills wine on my shirt. When I leave, I have her promise she will not continue swimming when nobody is there. I watch her from the top of the stairway while I'm leaving, swimming fluidly in the water, slightly drunk. It is like looking through a glass darkly, except I would never be content swimming when under the influence. I would have to find trouble. 

The big AA roundup this weekend on the mountain. I want to go and yet I don't want to go. First the oppressive heat and then the bee sting. I'll have to experience the feeling of loss. The separation from my tribe. I'm invited. A friend will even go to the lengths of driving over an hour to pick me up, but in the end I have declined. I'll have to lean into my feelings, as they say now, and trust that all is truly well. My mother's mantra. Yesterday, I've painted my lawn sale donkey head mask white with pink inner ears and I have decided I'll have to paint a sacred bee on its forehead, a reflection of where I am in the moment. The left side of my  head aches. I remember a few years back when a bee actually flew into my ear. My ear ached and eventually I had it checked out. I'd pulled/pushed the bee out of my ear with my little finger. Perhaps there was something I did not want to hear. Perhaps now, something I do not want to see from my intuitive knowing. I'll keep it as simple as possible this weekend and no matter what I do try and be present and not hurry or worry.

 A wonderful scent comes from seemingly nowhere.Almost like a cedar chest. The candle is burning.