Don’t Let The Sting Stop You
The instructions read “gather six stones, or rocks that speak to you,” and since inland Florida’s main rock is broken pieces of concrete I decided leaves would have to do. The point of the practice was to connect with feelings of abundance and self-nurturing, but the 85 degree humid September air only connected me to feelings of agitation, and sweat.
And then, before I even located my first fallen leaf, a bee debuted itself in my story, stinging my left forearm. Without having seen the incident I was, at first, confused about the burning sensation rippling through my skin, but then I saw the tiny stinger in my arm, and promptly removed it. Having not been stung since childhood, nor being a parent, I had no idea what to do next, but I put my abundance practice on hold, and trekked back to my apartment to assess the burning situation at hand (and arm.)
Having left my marriage in June, by September I was still in a very fragile state. And, while the title “victim” was still an identifier in my life, it was slowly falling away as I stayed on my healing path. I was beginning to learn that we can be, and are victims, but we do not need to treat ourselves as victims, or see the world through the victim lens. Yet, this bee’s sting immediately sent me down a familiar spiral of thoughts that went something like this “Are you kidding me? Why does stuff like this always happen to me? What is the fucking lesson this time? Clearly abundance isn’t for me, it’s rejecting me, again! Am I just meant to suffer?”
I decided to focus on the question “What is the lesson this time?” while truly feeling rejected by the idea that I’d ever be able to create an abundant life. While I’ve never been a believer in the statement “Everything happens for a reason”, I do believe that we can, at least, try to find the reason in everything–meaning, if we search for it, there’s likely a lesson to be found. But lessons require expansion of thought, attention, and time, so it would have been easier to just believe that the bee sting was a sign that I was being rejected by life.
As I tended to the sting, I stayed calm and present, observing myself, and the situation in order to locate the potential lesson. And, minutes later I found myself outside gathering my first leaves. It wasn’t the first time I noticed their nuanced beauty, but it did feel like it. I felt so alive in those moments as I ran my fingers across the ridges of the leaves, admired their vibrant hues. Eventually, I had six carefully selected leaves, and I walked back home. The lesson became abundantly clear to me as I took stock of my leaves, and my day, and realized that I completed the task regardless of the obstacle I faced, and the desire to attribute the happenstance to being a victim.
Don’t Let The Sting Stop You popped into my head, and a smile appeared across my face. Not only did I create abundance, I learned a valuable lesson–that I am a person who will not let the inevitable sting of life stop her.
Last week, marking almost two years since this incident, I found myself writing about the sting of rejection–encouraging words for folks wanting to come out of the closet, but who are scared to face the potential, or guaranteed rejection of their loved ones. I hadn’t remembered the sting, or my Don’t Let The Sting Stop You mantra, yet my written words embodied this message. Rejection is an inevitable part of the human experience, but when we truly come to accept ourselves, we gain the power to decide what role rejection plays in our lives, and how much, if it all, it will affect us. And, as we tap into nature we see that the bee doesn’t sting us because of who we are, but because it is programmed to feel fear–it is this fear that initiates the sting.
If we look a little longer, we can find yet another lesson: the bee, although it stung me, is the one who suffers the greater outcome. While my skin swelled and burned for several weeks, I walked away from our interaction stronger in many ways. Yes, the sting threw me off course momentarily, but I was still able to carry on, and create abundance in my life. However, the bee, who reacted out of fear, is left to suffer, and die.
This was, of course, an analogy, but I feel compelled to spell it out–when someone rejects us, it may sting, but we are not the ones who have to carry the burden of the fear, confusion, and anger that lead them to reject us in the first place–they are. The person who rejects us for being our authentic selves is a sad, scared, narrow-minded individual that lives in fear, and most likely frustration, and anger on a regular basis. That fear and anger is NOT ours to own, and we DO NOT have to allow it to enter our psyche, and stop us from living our lives. No matter how much someone may dislike us, or even hate us, those feelings are theirs to feel, and live with–not ours.
After I finished writing about the topic of rejection, I felt a deep sense of relief that I have come to a place in my life where my relationship to rejection–to the inevitable sting of life, has matured. I sat on my couch, thumbing a coffee table book I won in an Instagram Giveaway around the same time I collected my leaves, titled Citizen Woman, an Illustrated History of The Women’s Movement. After reading through a few pages chronicling the LGBTQ+ movement, and the lives of my heroes, Audre Lorde and Angela Davis, I turned to a page in the middle of the book, and there they were–six perfectly preserved leaves, spelling out a message from my own liberation movement, “Remember, Nicole, Don’t Let The Sting Stop You.”
And, as I ran my fingers across their hardened edges, and examined the ways in which their vibrant hues had settled, I was reminded of who I am–a woman who will never let the inevitable sting of life stop her from living her own.