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When the bees you love turn against you

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By Tracy Simmons | FāVS News Columnist

The first sting hit my leg before I even reached the hive. I should have taken the hint.

Instead, I went back inside, pulled on a hoodie under my bee jacket and returned to finish treating my bees for mites with extra layers on. I was trying to help them, after all. What I didn’t notice was how the hoodie hung loose beneath my jacket, creating a perfect highway for angry bees.

The moment I opened the hive, they found it. Dozens of bees poured through that gap and began stinging my chest and abdomen. I ran around the house, swatting, peeling off layers and stumbling, my good intentions forgotten in the chaos of unexpected pain.

So much for the gentle partnership I thought I’d cultivated with my bees.

Finding my way to the hive

I’m new to beekeeping — drawn to it because bees are good for the planet and, honestly, because I love honey. What started as an environmental gesture had become something deeper. Tending these industrious creatures felt like meditation, a weekly ritual of checking on them. I’d grown comfortable with their presence, even protective of them.

But comfort, as any beekeeper will tell you, can be dangerous around creatures armed with stingers.

That day, everything went sideways. The bees were already agitated — late summer brings heat, food scarcity and wasp raiders to their doorstep. I don’t normally smoke my bees to calm them, but I should have that day. I should have secured my gear properly. Instead, I got careless, and they reminded me why respect trumps familiarity every time.

The physical pain was sharp and immediate, but what caught me off guard was the emotional sting. These were my bees. I feed them, protect them from disease and worry about their winter survival. Yet here they were, treating me like a threat. It felt personal, even though I knew better. Bees don’t hold grudges — they simply defend their home with the only weapons they have.

Suiting up again

The next morning, I faced a choice. I still had another hive to treat, and mites don’t wait for wounded feelings to heal. 

So, I suited up.

This time, I moved like I was approaching a sleeping dragon. Slow movements, soft voice, and  — I used the smoker. Every buzz near my ear rattled my nerves, but these bees were calm. Same species, different day, different energy.

This is where Buddhism sneaks into beekeeping. The attack and my fear were both temporary — impermanent, like everything else in life. The bees weren’t inherently vicious any more than they were inherently gentle. They simply respond to conditions I can’t always predict or control.

My suffering came not just from the stings, but from my expectations. I’d assumed that careful attention would earn me safe passage among the bees. When that unspoken contract shattered, I felt betrayed by creatures incapable of betrayal.

Showing up despite the risk

Buddhist teaching suggests that our pain often stems not from events themselves, but from our stories about how life should unfold. I’d written myself as the benevolent keeper, deserving of grateful cooperation. 

The real wisdom came in returning to the hive — not fearlessly, because I was still nervous, but purposefully. Some relationships require us to show up despite the risk of being hurt again. The bees hadn’t changed their nature; I had to change my approach.

This mirrors so much of human experience. We nurture relationships, projects and practices that sometimes turn on us. A meditation routine becomes a source of self-criticism. A friendship delivers unexpected pain. A creative project feels like it’s fighting back.

The Buddhist response isn’t to abandon what has hurt us, but to return with greater wisdom and humility. The bees taught me that resilience isn’t about avoiding future stings — it’s about suiting up properly and showing up anyway.


The views expressed in this opinion column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the views of FāVS News. FāVS News values diverse perspectives and thoughtful analysis on matters of faith and spirituality.

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Tracy Simmons
Tracy Simmons
Tracy Simmons is an award-winning journalist specializing in religion reporting and digital entrepreneurship. In her approximate 20 years on the religion beat, Simmons has tucked a notepad in her pocket and found some of her favorite stories aboard cargo ships in New Jersey, on a police chase in Albuquerque, in dusty Texas church bell towers, on the streets of New York and in tent cities in Haiti. Simmons has worked as a multimedia journalist for newspapers across New Mexico, Texas, Connecticut and Washington. She is the executive director of FāVS.News, a digital journalism start-up covering religion news and commentary in Spokane, Washington. She also writes for The Spokesman-Review and national publications. She is a Scholarly Associate Professor of Journalism at Washington State University.

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Walter Hesfordfor
Walter Hesfordfor
9 months ago

I admire your courage and persistence, Tracy. I sure don’t have it around bees, having had some pretty bad bee encounters…though not with ones I have cared for, as you have yours. Good application of Buddhist wisdom.