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Speaking with yellow jackets: A Mystic's Journal by Laurie Conrad.
A Mystic’s Journal Entries: December 12-16, 2006
Tuesday, December 12
Called Rea. Michael had asked her why I wasn’t talking to the yellow jackets; he had read The Spiritual Life of Animals and Plants. "Tell him that I’ve already started speaking to them", I said.
A few weeks ago I realized that because I thought I was allergic to bees and wasps, I had not spoken with the yellow jackets; nor had I ever sent them healing. Whereas I have known many bees and wasps, spoken with them, sent them healing when they were injured. I have never come across an injured yellow jacket. And the best way to build trust with another species is to send one of their members healing.
Meanwhile: I have begun inwardly speaking to the yellow jackets, telling them that if they sting me I could die. I cannot take the allergy shots, therefore I am fully unprotected. That I come in Peace and wish them no harm. That I will try to water the gardens at night in the future, when their work in the gardens is done for the day. I have also told them inwardly that accidents cannot happen, we must all be very, very careful. They must stay away from me when I am outside, give me space. The usual. Like Saint Martin de Porres and the mice in the laundry, I will both be firm and also respect their needs. As with the wasps, I will find one and ask them to speak to their Leader for me. I will also ask my friends the bees and wasps to speak to them for me. What has me a little worried is that accidents can happen. And yellow jackets seem rather aggressive and self-absorbed. Distracted, unfocussed; agitated. I will teach them to pray.
That is my plan, and I have much more faith in it than any shots the doctors could give me.
Thursday, December 14
Today Helen came and drove me to the doctor. She also locked me out of the house, and M. did not get home until almost 11 p.m.
Saturday, December 16
Warm, in the 50's. Cloudy. M. went to Windgarth, I stayed in town. Put some leaves around the roses with the little energy I could muster. Marguerita and Michael came for an hour or so and helped me. It is not yet finished, but I was too tired to continue.
In the evening, visited _____. A joyous Christmas party; a huge white wooden mansion in Forest Home, lit with strings of small, clear lights. I followed M. down a path, then over a footbridge, the roar of the stream below; white foam visible in the lamplight as the stone steps of the falls formed cascades. Tables covered with food; wine, desserts; people everywhere, roaming through the rooms at leisure, stopping to talk; watching, listening; conversation; small children in brightly colored velvet or cotton dresses. Room after room with drifts of people; artists, businessmen, non-for-profit board members, spouses; old friends, new friends, a hello. Merriment and love.
At one point I went outside for some air; warm, in the fifties. A slate path, fairly common in Ithaca because of its stone quarries, either natural or commercial. The sound of Christmas carols mingled with the roar of the falls, a forest behind me, up a hill, silently watching. Guests in the library singing, wood bookcases, oak trim visible through the window; a Christmas tree strung with colored lights in yet another room; laughter, conversation through an open door as I walked further down the path; two guests leaving early shared my path for some steps before parting.
This party felt timeless, as though I had walked into an old, dusty, magical book.
May you all have a sacred and Joyous Christmas! xxx Laurie
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