I went out to the garden, a bit stressed, needing a moment to just sit down and gather my thoughts. The kind of moment where you hope silence will find you—but at first, it didn’t. My mind was a mess of noise: questions, to-do lists, half-remembered dreams, old worries bumping into new ones.
I sighed and looked up, trying to quiet the storm inside. That’s when I saw it—a bumblebee. Its tiny wings, too small for its round, heavy body, fluttered with determination as it moved from flower to flower, gently sipping from the jasmine.
I watched it for a long time. How could something so small carry so much and still be so delicate? It made me smile—the kind of smile that rises not from joy, but from awe, from being reminded of something deeply true. My busy mind paused. My tired thoughts softened.
The bumblebee moved with purpose, but never in a rush. It didn’t question its task. It simply was. Doing what it was meant to do, with grace. The soft wind touched my face, the sky stretched blue above, and the scent of jasmine wrapped around me like a prayer. For a moment, I felt as if I, too, were collecting nectar—soaking it all in, letting it fill me.
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