Great photo found on Ethnobeeology
I dreamt last night,
oh marvelous error,
that there were honeybees in my heart,
making honey out of my old failures. — Antonio Machado
oh marvelous error,
that there were honeybees in my heart,
making honey out of my old failures. — Antonio Machado
Ivory Plaque depicting Aristaios
Greek c.650-600 BC
Possibly from the Sanctuary of Artemis Orthia, Sparta
Aristaios was a minor rustic deity, the discoverer of olive oil and honey. He was also linked to the care of sheep and hunting.
He rarely appears in art, when he does he is shown winged and with a beard as in this plaque. It is in the style of Spartan ivory carvings, though its discovery site is uncertain.
(via centuriespast)
Apis dorsata is the nomad of the bee world. Not only does it not like the cold, but its survival also depends on change. It travels to wherever the sweetest blooms are found, builds its hives high up in the branches of the tallest trees, and, while it’s there, helps out the local forest with some regular pollinating before packing up and leaving for greener pastures when the season is finished. It might come back to the same spot, but then again, it might not. It all depends on where the flowers are blooming and when.
I wonder if the ancients were thinking of apis dorsata when they said that souls and bees were one and the same. While later prophecies claimed that bees were the carriers of souls to the afterlife, in the age of the goddess, the bee - or the soul - was carrier of life. Which would mean that the soul wouldn’t mind traveling, would it? — Grace Pundyk, The Honey Trail
I wonder if the ancients were thinking of apis dorsata when they said that souls and bees were one and the same. While later prophecies claimed that bees were the carriers of souls to the afterlife, in the age of the goddess, the bee - or the soul - was carrier of life. Which would mean that the soul wouldn’t mind traveling, would it? — Grace Pundyk, The Honey Trail
In Arnhem Land, the Aboriginal people believe that honey from the stingless bee is the food of spirit beings. These spirits make their homes inside hollow logs and help the soul find that stopping place between earth and sky, the Island of the Dead. They also believe the bones of the deceased become the honeycomb, and the bees flying back and forth to their hive symbolize the generation and regeneration of nature. I wonder at these men I’ve just met, entwined as they are with their native stingless bees. In their own way, each of them has found something sacred in these creatures, something worthy of protection.
— Grace Pundyk, The Honey Trail
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jesusisabuscuitlethimsopyouup:
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]]>](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m74mg0dSY11r8mbw1o1_500.jpg)
jesusisabuscuitlethimsopyouup:
via ariarachelle
fuck ya
Reverence for the bee is as old as humanity. Bees, in fact, were on this planet long before humanity existed. Ancient civilizations believed that bees were divine messengers of the gods, or deities themselves. Kings and queens of the Nile carved symbols of them into their royal seals, and the Greeks of Ephesus minted coins with their images. Emperor Napoleon embroidered the mighty bee into his coat of arms as an emblem of power, immortality, and resurrection. One day at the New York Public Library, while I was researching bees, one of my subjects blithely and loudly explored the reading room, causing widespread consternation. I felt thrilled by this visitation from the gods.
— Holley Bishop, Robbing the Bees: A Biography of Honey - the Sweet Liquid Gold that Seduced the World
