I wish I could speak like a bee.
Maybe that needs more explanation… Yesterday I was at the dentist getting a new crown. While my dentist is very gentle and concerned that I have a good experience, past bad dentists have instilled in me a great fear that causes tension and distress (no matter how good my current dentist is).
What does that have to do with bees? – I’m getting there.
To help deal with my tension the dentist suggested some happy gas (nitrous). I was still tense but the gas helped take the edge off the experience. While setting up, he informed me that I should breathe through my nose (to take in the gas) and that if it got to be too much for me, I could breath through my mouth and the gas would leave my system. Who know? – He did I guess.
The gas went on, and it was working. I was semi-relaxed and dedicated to staying that way when the dentist started asking me questions…Now here come the bees. I wanted to answer him, but I didn’t want to breath out of my mouth and kill my buzz, so I found myself wishing I could hum like a bee, or dance my communications – Anything that would not require breathing out through my mouth and losing the light buzz provided by the gas.
Strange? Even more so when you think that I’m allergic to bee stings. I don’t think I’d make a very good bee. I’d be so neurotic “hey dude, watch the stinger, allergy here”.
Writing Exercise:
Imagine that you woke up with the ability to communicate like a bee. Suddenly each emotion, thought or story appeared to you not only in words but it dance and buzzing harmonies. While this could open up amazing opportunities in the fields of dance and theater, how might this new skill effect your ability to communicate in other ways? Would your new dance and buzzing skills bleed over into other parts of your life? Would you share your ability? Would you have a choice? Spend twenty minutes playing with your new skills and the changes they would bring to your life. Happy writing.
composeconceivecreate 