The Gathering

Begin by closing your eyes.

Allow your breath to settle—not forced, not held—simply observed.

Inhale through the nose… hold gently… exhale through the mouth.

Again…

Let the rhythm begin to mirror something older than thought.

Now imagine this—

You are standing before a towering cactus, twelve feet tall.

You are already inside it.

A cluster of arms reaching toward the sky—ancient, patient, radiant with quiet strength.

The sun has just tipped over the ridge.

Its warmth kisses the ridges and spines, turning them into golden veins of light.‍ ‍

Around you, a subtle hum begins.‍ ‍

Low at first, like the memory of a song you once knew.

Then closer… fuller…

Bees.

Hundreds of them.

Not frantic. Not dangerous. Just purposeful.

They move from bloom to bloom—

soft orange blossoms opening like breathing mouths

offering nectar without fear, without demand.

Each bee lands with reverence.

Tiny legs brushing golden pollen,

wings shimmering like held breath.

You feel their rhythm…

not chaotic, but Spiral.

You are not an observer.

You are part of this exchange.‍ ‍

The cactus gives.

The bees receive.

You remember.

Every inhale now carries a little more stillness.

Every exhale, a little more awe.‍ ‍

You belong to this moment.

You belong to this field.

Breathe.

Let the hum carry you.

Let the pollen settle in the folds of your own memory.

Let the light rest upon your skin like a silent blessing.

Stay as long as you need.

Then, when it is time, return slowly.

And know:

You are a keeper of the bloom.