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A Spiritually Enlightening Online Magazine. May's Theme: "Interconnectedness"
Volume 6 Issue 4 ISSN# 1708-3265

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First Cause, Dancing Bee and the Sky Shark
by Phil Kotofskie

Leaf shadows wave across the wall. I look outside. Pink buds dot the apple tree; a few buds have become pink-tipped white blossoms. First Cause, a small amethyst and white quartz crystal, stands sparkling in front of the computer.

"Let's go for an 'interconnectedness walk'," I say, putting her in my pocket. Time to get the mail.

A honeybee stands on the front walkway in the sun. "Why does she not fly?" I wonder. Bees usually don't just stand there, so I send healing energy as a violet flame.

No mail—President's Day in the United States. The joke is on me. I go back inside for a drink of water, carefully walking around the bee.

First Cause and I step out for our walk and the bee is still there. She seems to be healthy. Her wing shadows look like real wings; the bee looks as if she is standing on an upside down bee.

She walks forward a few steps.

I sit cross-legged on the sidewalk in the sun. The bee steps back, then forward. She is dancing a bee dance that her hive and many other bees receive. I feel her joy.

The human has stopped to listen!

She was waiting for me in plain sight, a risky undertaking for a small insect. I remember that I would like to walk fellow humans through the experience of satori. Satori is one word for inner union with the ineffable, the divine.

"Big plans, Bee," I say, laughing, giving up on my plans. She steps forward.


The sun warms us. Bee steps forward, turns around and walks the other way, then turns, steps toward me and looks at me. She turns and quickly walks off the sidewalk into the shade, along the top of a stick, up a plant. She leaps off the plant onto a smaller plant—a huge distance, at least ten bee body lengths!

Bee runs to the ground and races rapidly from plant to plant, stick to stick, then climbs to the top of one plant. Why doesn't she fly? She holds onto a leaf and stops.

Each being walks its path as it will.

Her dance contains friendly sarcasm directed at my path as well. A sarcastic bee, of all things.

The wind ebbs. My running shoes need to be washed. The wind again pushes against my back and Bee swings wildly about. Long, thin clouds drift with the wind across the sky.

The same wind pushes against all of us. Trees sway in the wind. A bird's shadow crosses the ground in front of me, then another.

Bee remains on the swinging plant, which is eight or nine bee body lengths tall. The sun shines on both the clouds and me, but not on Bee. I sit with that notion.

Aha! Bee is bathed in reflected light from the sun. We are often in reflected sunlight, even at nighttime. If we can see anything in the dark without assistance, sunlight is present. Our emotions radiate like sunlight, touching others both directly and by reflection. The faces of others show our present state of being.

Bee moves around on the plant, then stops on a leaf.


The clouds look like shark gill slits! How did they change so fast? Thirty-seven gill slits. That's a big shark. The slits show that the sky shark is traveling with the wind. A pigeon flies beneath the clouds with the wind.

Some sharks must continue swimming in order to breathe. As powerful as the sky shark must be, it is swimming with the wind. Most beings don't have to move constantly to breathe. And we all may travel into the wind. How many times I have headed into the wind on my life journey. A pigeon flies beneath the clouds into the wind.

Bee dances between plant tops, holding securely to one before stepping onto the next. Something tickles my arm—a gnat! My arm has scrape marks beneath the gnat. I bumped into a coat hanger as I reached for some shorts to wear. Gnat shows the result of my heedless walk preparation. Heedlessness is an everyday out-of-body experience in which we all participate. Our bodies pay the price.

"Thank you Gnat." The gnat flies away. How many messengers did I squash before listening? Hundreds? Thousands? That's okay. I listen now and the bugs assure me that they are fine.

Bee stops dancing between the plant tops and turns to face me, her eyes like shiny dark chocolate. Is her wing broken? No—that's her rear leg—but Bee reflects my concern for her health.

I am fine.

Bee climbs to another plant while holding onto the last with one foot. She stops.

My skin feels warm and cool in the sun and wind. I want to walk, but everything is happening as I sit on the sidewalk.

A hummingbird sings. The wind sighs. Leaves rustle. A woman's head passes between some bushes. Her Wolfhound's shoulders stand almost as tall as her as he pees on one of our cacti.

"Good boy," the woman says. They depart.

This cactus took the brunt of a visiting fungus last year. Although it took a year, the cactus prevailed. Plants have a different perspective when somebody pees and poops on them. The plants I've talked with don't mind at all. They enjoy holding a comfortable space for everybody's enjoyment.

But as a fellow human I caution you—look before you sit.

The desire to walk comes strongly. Bee stands motionless. She still holds onto the second plant with her rear leg, a comment on my present situation. This time I feel her shyness rather than sarcasm. A hummingbird sings. A finch chirps.

Why do you not fly? they ask.

I move toward Bee and await permission to come closer. Then I lean forward and gently brush her antennae several times with my finger.

"Thank you Bee. That was lovely."

Her antennae retract, then move down and out, touching me in return. She lowers her head, looks at me, then modestly turns away. Bee radiates joy and completion.

First Cause and I continue our walk in the fields of satori.

Phil Kotofskie is a longtime student of life. His sharing is based on years of working with himself in diverse jobs and relationships ranging from Army Soldier to Overnight Grocery Stocker, from spouse to stranger. His specialty is everyday life as a spiritual path.

Phil is a Reiki Master who offers healing assistance and a musician who plays didgeridoo and West African drums. He is currently finishing a book with the Stones that guides the reader to answer the question "Who am I?"

Phil lives in Tucson, Arizona with Popurrie and the Stones and can be contacted via email.

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