Tags

, , ,

On a dry, sunny day a bumblebee buzzed across a light-blue sky until it suddenly fell. Its wings no longer conquered the empty surrounding space, so that its body dropped hard on the unforgiving concrete. It is unclear whether the bumblebee died in midair, during its fall, or as it hit the ground. Who knows the exact moment at which a bumblebee ceases to exist? That may not be the right way to put it. Instead, one might ask, who knows the precise point at which the life-giving force within a bumblebee halts its magic and abandons the furry bee body? For part of the bumblebee certainly continued to exist. Its fluffy little body was left simmering on the pavement in the mid-summer heat. In fact, several passersby nearly stepped on its black-orange-white stripes. Fortunately, they recognized it in time and were merciful enough to redirect their feet. What would it matter, you might ask? The bumblebee’s life-force left anyway, you might say. I would respond: no creature wants its remains, whether fleshy, scaly, wooly, or downy, to be violently crushed. All creatures spend time with whatever holds their various parts together. Some come to cherish their particular composition. I see no reason why our bumblebee should not have felt affection for its constitution. That’s why it saddens me that the wind failed to show compassion. It deserted the small bundle of fuzz and wings on the sweltering pavement, letting it blister and disintegrate in the relentless sun, rather than whisk it away to a protective patch of grass, to help it retain a little postmortem dignity.