Sending Out the Bees is a thing I learned sitting on a rock in the meadow that was my childhood sanctuary. I was that lonely kid sprawled on a boulder sheltered under a hundred-year-maple, an excellent perch for observation and flights of fancy. Bees are collectors, I'd ask them to bring me back stories I could learn and retell. As I grew older and discovered more about the vital and intricate role bees play in their ecosystems, my wonder of their capacity to explore, forage, pollinate, nest and communicate has expanded. Ever so slowly, the imagination game of 'sending out the bees' to gather stories has woven its way into the heart of my healing practice. This morning, on Father's Day, I lit a beeswax candle, sending out the bees with a sustained and quiet hum for all the children and fathers who, collectively, need something better. No matter what age you may be, or how many kids you have yourself, or whether or not you've shown up better for your own kids than your dad did. Whatever healing you may need, whatever solace for your sorrow, I am sending out the bees. They carry a gratitude for the good there has been, and may be yet. They carry bundles of pollen to nourish your humor and your heart. They carry the whisper of encouragement that will help when you need it. They carry a wiggle and a buzz that might make you laugh out loud (or at least grin). Sometimes they trickster-up and sting, yes, but this hurt reliably subsides and resolves. And when the bees return to the hive they will dance the story of your mending, teaching the way there and back again so it can be remembered.