FABLE OF THE BEE KING
PART I: THE OLD WORLD
In my preparation for the role of Ritual Alchemist, I was instructed to listen into the world, into the hum of nature and its people.... and a story... flew to me that wanted to be told.
I will tell this tale in chapters for you every evening, but beware - it is not a bedtime story. It is not meant to lull you to sleep or give you easy answers. It is here to hold the space for all the experiences you have had during the day. It is an invitation to all those who are hungry, rebellious, daydreaming - all those who want to descend with me into the dark, into the realm of fairy tales, to the fire of the stories - so come closer.
Now we have come together here in the realm of fairy tales - and who appears?
A man. Is he a villain? Or was he a fool? Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. What I do know, however, is that this man conquered a country not unlike our own. And because he regarded this land and its people with the disdain that only conquerors have, he subjugated it.
The richer he became, the poorer his people became. He mockingly called the people in his kingdom his ‘industrious worker bees’ and himself their bee king - then he squeezed every last drop of the sweet fruits of their labour.
This false bee king delighted in taking everything he could from his people: First, he took away their connection to nature by declaring all the bounty that the land produced to be his property. Then he took away their connection to their fellow human beings by banning old customs and forbidding gatherings. In the end, he even took away their connection to themselves. For the people began to harden and act in a similar manner to their king. With this perverse alchemy, he had turned the gold of this flourishing empire to dust and ashes.
But when everything was conquered and achieved, when his people suffered both external and internal poverty, he sat in his gilded halls - alone - and a dark thought began to spread into the empty place where others carry a heart.
Where else to grow when his empire already stretched so far that the sun never set? He had no heir. Who would carry on his legacy of fame and glory? The thought of being dead and forgotten one day in the future gnawed deeper and deeper into the bee king, stealing all the pleasure in his wealth.
Now that you know about the state of the kingdom and its people, let's delve deeper into the world of this tale. It is a cool autumn day. On this day, a secret reaches the bee kings's ears. A mythical beast hidden in the deepest mountain forests is said to guard the knowledge of aliveness!
The bee king hears of this and all doubts give way to the goal of using the knowledge of aliveness to subjugate Death itself. So he sent out his knights to proclaim a message throughout the kingdom.
Let us now look away from the cold-hearted king’s castle, closer to the mythical forests. There - a warm fire burns in a remote mountain village. There, where the old customs have not yet been completely extinguished. People gather around a fireplace. The bee king’s message has already reached them: Tomorrow, at the king's behest, the young village lads will be conscripted. They have to catch the beast in the deep mountain forests and bring it to the king. The king will then squeeze the secret of aliveness out of the beast and brew his potion of immortality. Agitated voices rise above the sparks of the fire. The parents shout in despair that their youngsters are not ready for this dangerous task. The old people warn - hardly anyone who has ventured out of the village into the forest has come back. There are cries of - the king has already taken everything from us - not our children too! Our future! Or things like - the king must be overthrown - by force if necessary! And it is precisely those who remain in the safety of the village who give lightly spoken advice to the boys who are setting off into the unknown.
A girl also sits by the fire and listens with wide eyes. She is just old enough to be able to bear all the stories of fear, numbness, failure and suffering. And still young enough to be able to imagine a different world.
We will get to know this girl even better over the next few days. For today, however, we are leaving the fireplace and the people to return to our own community. And because fairy tales only come to life when they are imagined together, I would like to give you the same questions that were discussed by the people around the fire:
‘What separates you - from yourselves, from others, from nature? What scares you? What burns you out?’ I invite you now to carry these conversations into the dark of the night, to our own hearths, and into the next day, where we will hear the 2nd chapter of the tale, where the girl will decide to do something about this situation.
PART II: THE DEPARTURE
We return to the village in winter. Months have passed since the boys were sent into the forest by the bee king. None of them have returned. Instead, those left behind are haunted by overwhelming feelings, as if by ghosts. For most of them, there is anger at the visit, and as the weeks go by without news, then sadness and finally hopelessness. The girl is also visited by these feelings, as her brothers are also among the missing.
However, some rituals have survived in the remote village that the king has long wanted to eradicate. One of these rituals now becomes vital to people's survival and sanity: almost everyone keeps bees, which are seen as non-human family members, as mediators with nature, as travellers between sky and earth, death and life. Especially in times of change and great upheaval, people share their grief, joy, fears and dreams with them. Because the villagers know that as soon as you come into contact with a living being, a relationship is woven. A web of care and responsibility for each other. And that does something to the soul.
The girl knows that too. So now, like her parents and grandparents and everyone in the centuries before her, she walks through the snow, knocks on her beehive and hears a buzzing sound. The bees wake up from their cluster, huddled together to survive the cold winter, and listen to her voice. But the bees also listen to all the other voices of people throughout the village and kingdom, perhaps even our mountain village. If we are attentive - maybe we can hear them too?
The bees hear all this and change their humming. For it is in the sharing of our emotions that the first alchemy in this tale happens. We all know that moment at the beginning of every story. Something touches you so deeply that you can't go on as before. It is the farewell to the village, to everything familiar. It is the moment of letting go, of the desire for security, and then the departure into the unknown of the deep, dark forest. Can the girl hear that the bees have already begun to sing the song of change to the world? Does the girl sense that she has just decided to look for her brothers? Does she believe that she will succeed on her journey? Or does she merely feel that it is necessary to at least try? The bees continue to buzz unperturbed. One thing is certain: spoken words have power, perhaps even magic.
We set off with the girl just before dawn. Light snowfall. The village members gather around her. They all bring treasures in many forms: Advice, food, weapons, magical tools. The girl weighs up all the offers, then opens her bag and inserts: a string - to connect things that belong together. A pair of scissors to separate things that belong apart. And a handful of magic seeds - small, light and so nutritious that she can eat them for weeks. Incredulous looks. Is that all? The boys had swords and shields, axes and nets and so much more in their heavy packs.
I'm not that strong, I want to travel light, the girl simply says, hugs her loved ones and then - one step at a time - walks into the forest and the uncertainty.
The path climbs steeply. The forest becomes darker, the thicket denser. The winter gets colder. She experiences many trials as she wanders through the forest - but these will have to be told on another evening. Only two should be mentioned - once she binds the injured wings of an angry dragon with her string. Once she can only tear herself away from a murderous vine by cutting off her coat with scissors. So the things in her bag were chosen wisely. But despite all her good decisions, she doesn't find her brothers.
Without a coat, the girl walks on through the cold of winter. The forest holds her tight with its gnarled fingers. It shows her no path, but many dead ends, ghostly voices that lure her into foggy swamps and deep abysses. Still, the girl continues - sometimes with tears in her eyes, sometimes with fear in her stomach, forwards as the only way. And when she can no longer catch any seeds in the bag with her hungry fingers, all she has left are the memories of her brothers, her village, and she tries to feed on them.
It is precisely at this terrible moment of deprivation that we must leave the girl and the tale today. There is no resolution today. No relaxation. We are deep inside the underbelly of the story realm. We have to look hardship in the face here. As you may have realised today - only those who have met the lowest point can change from the depths. And so tonight I would like to invite you to not only engage with the low point in your own stories, but to befriend it. Because there is nourishment to be found, even in the moments of greatest hardship.
PART III: THE HEART
We return high into the mountains, deep into the woods. And find the girl just as a snowstorm is brewing. She is driven on and on by these forces of nature. But what’s that? Does it just seem that way? The further the storm drives her, the warmer it gets. The frozen earth beneath her feet turns to mud. Light green stalks shoot up from the humus of the forest soil, buds unfurl from the tips of branches that stood frozen just a moment ago…. Has the forest decided that she wandered around enough?
Suddenly the girl stands in a clearing. She takes in the sight: A colourful meadow of flowers. Warm light. A place where the budding spring never ends. And there - in the middle of the dead wood of an old oak tree - a heart-shaped bees' nest that seems to glow and pulsate from within. And right in front of it: her three brothers. Smiling. Unharmed. But as she rushes to them to embrace them ... she notices... Unharmed, yet not unchanged: Glowing golden eyes. Black fur all over her body.
The brothers touch her gently. ‘What gifts are you bringing home?’ they hum to her. The girl looks into her bag, which is empty after the long journey. She has nothing more to offer, turns the bag inside out ...but there...one last seed trickles out, which immediately begins to germinate in the thawed earth. By the time the brothers have bent down to smell it, the seed has grown into a flower. The brothers nod and guide their sister inside the bee's heart.
It is pitch black inside. The girl goes blind, and at the same time a sensitive world opens up to her - full of vibration and song. The warm bodies of other bees gently brush against hers, like an all-encompassing embrace. The golden fragrance of nectar permeates the honeycomb aisles. The brothers guide her past the nursery of the bee larvae and ask her to be especially careful. The brothers, who have only been taught the ways of battle by the king and his knights, are now practising the art of caring. And then they stand before her.
The girl immediately realises who she is. The maiden, the mother, the crone. The servant of each one, the queen of all. Her scent was home, her song harmony. ‘Welcome, child. We have been waiting for you ever since your hive sisters from your village flew with news of your departure to us. You have found us now because it was so necessary. So, what need have you come to address?’
The girl searches for clear words, but human strands of thought are increasingly difficult to weave... There were the brothers, the difficult living conditions, their village community and their desire for wellbeing. There was the cursed bee king and his quest for immortality. And there was the Beast - with the secret of aliveness.
This beast now feels the threads of the girl's mind for a while and then speaks: ‘People call me Queen Bee, but I am not a ruler. Like all my daughters and sons here, I am a servant of aliveness.
Aliveness is not a secret to be guarded. You can no more possess it than you can destroy it. You can only prevent aliveness from fully unfolding for a certain period of time, just like that fool does on the throne of your kingdom who calls himself king. He has understood nothing: what you humans have called the potion of aliveness does not make you immortal, but reverent.”
Then she leads the girl to a honeycomb wall where the potion of golden thickened nectar is stored. ‘You know it from your own bees. They collect nectar to feed their community, indeed, to survive. But at the same time, and self-evidently, they fulfil the dream of every flower to be allowed to become fruit. The dream of being allowed to become food for others. The dream of dispersing itself as seeds in the world.
And when, after long winters full of deprivation, our newly hatched bees fly out for the first time, strengthened by honey, they land on the next blossoms, grown from the fulfilled dreams of their ancestors. Remember, child: our act of devotion is to love the whole world into aliveness.’
‘Do you want to taste this nectar of dreams, child?’ The girl does not hesitate, sucks directly from the honeycomb, only now realising how much she thirsted for this taste. And suddenly she can see everything: She sees the flight of the bees collecting the dreams: from open flower crowns, yes, but also from white bird wings, from dewy doe eyes, from the withered faces of tired lumberjacks, and even from the shining golden faces of noble families. The bees collect all the diffuse images, wishes, visions, all the wyrd and wild dreams.
Every time the bees visit a dreamer, something from the previous visit sticks. Then, the bees bring the nectar into the hive, passing it from one sister's mouth to the next. It gets thicker and thicker, with each exchange something is added. The boundaries between the individual dreamers dissolve in this potion. Until in the end the nectar of all dreams becomes sweet, nourishing, golden - more than the sum of its ingredients. This is the second alchemy in our tale.
The nectar of dreams in the honeycombs is almost overflowing with all the living beings in the kingdom who dream of a better future. Full, full, overflowing! the bees in the hive begin to buzz. The girl also feels the same urge, she wants to swarm. Her brothers begin to encourage the swarming, then her hive sisters, all infected by the energy, begin to sing and dance. It's a feast. They drink, drink, drink the golden nectar until their stomachs are almost overflowing. Then a toot-tooooot-toooot, the signal to leave. Away from the warmth of the safe nest in the honeycomb heart, out, out, back into not-knowing, into nothing-as-before, into the not-yet-born - out, out, and deep into the world, which is simultaneously full of destruction and aliveness.
And if I may leave you with a question for tonight- which you can take with you to your own celebration here in the village. A question with regard to the nectar of dreams you have brought into the honeycomb wall itself - what will it take? Now that you have shared your dreams, visions, with each other, enriched, thickened - what alchemy will it take now - from you - to love the world back into aliveness?
PART IV: THE RETURN
We left the girl just as the bees were getting ready to swarm. The swarm is now moving across the forest - which now stands in green splendour. Time seems to have passed more slowly in the magical beehive than out in the world. They land in the village, where the big summer market is being held. A circle quickly forms around the returnees.
In addition to the girl, her brothers and all the other boys the king had sent into the forest have now landed, as well as other missing people, those thought dead, those declared mad, people who had left the village in search of unknown paths. The village community looks at the new arrivals in confusion. They are all familiar faces at first glance - except for their eyes, which now glow golden from the nectar of dreams.
The girl shakes off the dizziness of the flight. She remembers the last moments before swarming out. Her task is clear. To bring aliveness back into the world. Then there was this rearing fear of her imminent return to her village. How could she manage it? She is only a girl and the king's powers seemingly overpowering. What else had the queen bee told her? “Don't accuse the larva of not being a bee yet. Don't blame the blossom for not yet bearing fruit. Don't ask a single bee to make the whole world come alive. So many things happen gradually. Then, so many thing happen all at once. You don't have to nurture aliveness on your own.”
And so they begin their task with a song - a song that is sung to every newly hatched bee. It is a song of nourishing each other. Fortunately, nectar comes in many forms - nectar of dreams, kindness, attention, courage, service and devotion. It is a song that sings about relationships and encounters. Alchemical encounters that turn flowers into fruit and dreams into reality. It is as much a song as it is a reminder that we are all connected and that our presence matters.
The returnees sing, and finally the spell seems to be broken. Their families open their arms, they laugh and cry and celebrate. The returnees talk about their adventures and discoveries and distribute the alchemical honey they have brought with them from the heart of the forest.
Is the story over now? Is this the happy ending? Well, no story is ever finished - you can only leave it at an interesting point. And so, despite the joy, open questions and uncertainty remain. In the fairy tale as well as for you, who will soon be heading out into your villages, towns and communities.
Perhaps you are wondering: What happens to the people in the village when they taste the alchemical honey from the heart of the forest? ..... Well, it's certainly not a panacea for all that is unwell in the realm. What I do know is - it's a powerful brew, charged with all the dreams, encounters and exchanges that happened.
Those who drink it will remember the wisdom of bees: That there are always ways to serve aliveness. Just as the bees are attracted to the flowers, there are also places for us where we can be effective for the world and nourish ourselves at the same time. We need to find these places. And that is not easy - there will be many difficult times, tyrannical kings and cold winters, and that is precisely when honey will strengthen us.
Speaking of the king - what will become of him? Will he be overthrown by the girl, just like the heroines in most fairy tales do to the villains?
Just like our own story, this one is not yet written, because it depends on the actions of everyone in the kingdom. But if I may offer my guess ... Then some of the returnees, perhaps the brothers, will remain in the village community and put their new knowledge of caring to use straight away, for there is much to do here.
And others, perhaps the girl, will swarm on to let people all over the kingdom taste the alchemical honey. Perhaps the change will be inconspicuous at first. A dream, spoken and shared, rather than kept to oneself. A comforting touch where there was none before. A courageous decision that was previously sacrificed at the altar of safety.
The heart of aliveness beats louder and louder now in the realm. People dream together more and more, they talk to each other. They connect, sow and harvest. Because the third and final alchemy lies in the doing. In the sum of all individual actions that together transform meagre survival into exuberant aliveness.
And the king - still separated from the world in the prison of the castle walls he built himself- will do everything in his power to prevent this development. He will never find the potion of immortality, because it does not exist. What does exist, and what will await the king in the end, is the twin sister of immortality: namely his own finiteness in the great dance of life. And when the king becomes part of the earth again, which he has subjugated all his life, the earth will welcome him graciously. The most beautiful flowers will grow on his grave. And the bees - they will gather nectar from them.