As a beekeeper, I am constantly faced with the conundrum of balancing the needs of the hive with the needs of my own sanity. The constant buzzing, the endless stings, the honey production quotas... is it all worth it? Or am I just a slave to my own apian ambitions?
I mean, what's the point of it all? Is it just about the honey? The wax? The propolis? Or is it about the existential crisis that comes with being a human who spends more time with bees than with people?
Some say I'm a madman, a zealot, a apiarian zealot. Others say I'm a visionary, a guardian of the hive, a savior of the species. But I just call myself Buzz, beekeeper extraordinaire.
Read on to explore the deeper implications of beekeeping as a metaphor for life. Or, if you will, explore the art of bee stress management.