Show Me the Honey: Three Ways to Bee Relentless
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Last time we talked about this all too common word ‘busy’ and why it makes my left eye twitch. When I was writing this last post, I thought about the common idiomatic phrase we use: He was busy as a bee. I find it odd we’d choose to call bees busy. Bees are not at ALL busy.
Bees act with plan, purpose, vision, intention and have very clear goals wired into their DNA. Unlike humans, bees always know precisely why they are doing what they do day in and day out. Bees are relentless in all they do. Again, unlike humans, bees are aware that flitting flower to flower results in something tangible and essential for their survival.
Sure, when we watch bees buzz from blossom to blossom, they might appear aimless when, in fact they are anything BUT. Those little suckers are on a mission every day with single-minded purpose. Today, we’ll talk about how we can bee all we can bee.
#FunWithPuns
One: Bees Have a Clear Result in Mind
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Bees operate with a clear result in mind, relentless in everything they do. All their ‘activity’ serves a singular purpose. Granted, bees do have a bit of an advantage. First, I’ve yet to encounter a bee who’d watched a single episode of Game of Thrones or lost time collecting pollen because it got distracted arguing over stupid crap on Facebook.
Bees don’t have Netflix, carpool duty, or kids who play soccer, lacrosse, and take ballet. Bees don’t need to do laundry. They’re able to buzz about in the open ‘nude’ without fear of fines for being tiny winged perverts.
I get that us ‘enlightened’ bee-ings have more ‘stuff’ that gets in the way, clouds our vision, and that can lead to a slow drifting away from our purpose. Yet, I might also challenge all of us to state what our purpose truly IS. One reason we fail to be relentless in what we do, is that we never stopped to even define what we want.
When we fail to state our core GOAL, it’s almost impossible to discern meaningful activity from fruitless distraction. This is why every success book worth reading emphasizes writing out clear and attainable goals. With no defined objective, we end up with mission drift.
Bees are relentless because they can’t afford mission drift.
If they dawdle about in the flowers, stop to buzz smack about the wasp family that moved in, and fail to return with the pollen? They die.
Some might argue that humans won’t die if they don’t fulfill their purpose, but I’d say that isn’t entirely true. Purpose is wired into humans as well. We do die, albeit in a different way. Humans with no purpose can suffer burnout, depression, exhaustion, and crippling neuroses.
If deep down you KNOW you were born to be an author, there is a very real reason your job in that cubicle makes you dread waking up every day.
Two: Bees Possess Enthusiasm for Results
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Bees are able to get going every day a flower is to be found with an enthusiasm I covet. They’re relentless all day every day largely because they ‘know’ all this work will lead to a tangible (and vital) result. In our modern culture, there’s been an explosion of stress-related illnesses.
In a time where we should be healthier than ever, in many areas we’re sicker than we’ve ever been with illnesses we’ve never encountered.
Granted there are many theories and reasons why stress is taking a major toll on modernized countries, but I believe it’s because the nature of our work has changed.
Anyone who works at a computer knows it seems we’re digging a sand pit every day. We dig and dig and the more we dig, the more ‘sand’ piles in. Emails are relentless. Meetings are relentless. Demands are relentless. Drama is relentless.
We work more hours than ever before, yet rarely do we see tangible RESULTS. Money in and of itself is not enough. Without purpose, without meaningful results, something inside of us withers. Eventually, we drift because we’re unfulfilled. Being relentless has no point.
I’d like to offer these three ‘excursions’ in my life to illustrate.
Syria—Relentless for a Vision
[image error]My old neighborhood.
The day after I graduated college I boldly hopped on a plane to Damascus, Syria, eager to use all I’d learned in the university. I had grand plans, a vision, drive and purpose to improve the lives of others. Alas, what began as a dream ended up something vastly different.
I didn’t mind living in a refugee camp, having to trade with the Bedouins, or the time-consuming drudgery of having to buy nearly everything on the black market. The lack of water and showers and prevalence of rats and packs of wild dogs I could endure. Why? Because I had purpose.
Syria undid me because I so badly wanted a far different future than the one I sensed was inevitable. Hard to believe I used to live here 
