LAYNE REDMOND'S CALENDAR
click hereHymns From The Hive is completed!!!! New excerpts of songs will be posted soon. CD to be released this summer!!!!
Bhramari Practice, Buzzing Bee Breath, Layne Redmond Workshop
Debra Roberts: The Sacredness of Keeping Bees
Sound Purification
Persephonie with the sacred Omphalos/Beehive/Seventh Chakra crowning her head. From the Archaeological Museum at Eleusis.
FOR MORE INFO ON THE SACRED PATH OF THE BEE
BEE TEES available at www.LayneRedmond.com
It is no accident that you have arrived at this page.
Whatever got you here is exactly what was supposed to get you here.
You have arrived at exactly where you are supposed to be.
Bee-goddess, perhaps associated with Artemis. Gold plaques, 7th century BC. British Museum.
A Melissa, an ancient bee priestess.
Bhramari Devi - Goddess of the Black Bees (Shrimad Devi Bhagavatam) See Blog!
Her Last Flower
This morning I went out to pick dandelions and was drawn to the Echinacea patch where I found a honeybee clinging to one of the beautiful flowers. She seemed in distress, confused and weak. She would fall off the flower and then catch herself in midair and fly dizzily back. She kept trying to get back to work, collect her pollen to take back to the hive to make honey but she was getting weaker and weaker and then she fell into my hand. I knew she would never make it back to her hive. For the next half hour she rested in my palm, her life slowly ebbing away as a thunderstorm started to brew. I sat on the earth waiting for death with her. The lightening flashed over the mountains, a family of turkeys slowly walked the ridge, a wild dog keyed into what was happening circled past us. The trees appeared startlingly vivid and conscious as the wind blew up and the thunder cracked and then her death was finished. She was gone forever. But in her going she taught me to take every moment as my last flower, do what I could and make something sweet of it.
SUPPORT THIS DOCUMENTARY: The Vanishing of the Bees.
The Gift Of Failure
Last night I dreamt, thank you God that I had a beehive inside my heart; and that Golden Bee's were making from my old and sad failures white combs and sweet honey.
Antonio Machado
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