Busy, Busy Bees Are We Essay

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The hive cannot survive without them, yet they are shown no gratitude, given no praise, and no hope of promotion; the worker bees have a taxing life. Sentenced to a life of hard work from birth, they are laid in a waxed cell and teased with royal jelly, giving the young workers hope that they may become queen one day. This hope quickly diminishes on their 20th day, when they are sent to work—for life. The worker bee knows nothing but the tasks she completes everyday; she doesn’t know the meaning of fun or the gratitude she should receive for all her hard work. She has a set schedule for her life, tasks she must complete to be a proper part of the hive; from cleaning the waxed cells that hold larvae, to feeding the complacent drones and helpless larvae, to repairing her home, to guarding the hive, inside and out, and finally, as her final task, she forages for propolis, which is used to seal unwanted spaces in the hive. After they have gone through this pain-staking schedule, they die a quiet death, and are then carried out by fellow worker bees to save the hive from their disease. These worker bees expose the paramount difference in living verses living well. The qualities of life that make us happy are not the same, but have the same effect. While working incessantly, we reach desperately for those two couch-potatoed days, only to uncover more errands to run, more problems to fix. We live our lives focusing on the tasks to complete the next day instead of living in the moment and appreciating everything that is right in front of us already. And so we bees try, with unwavering devotion to our superficial labor, to feel release; however, our effort only sadistically increases our distance from that ideal. Workers of today spend their lives providing for their hive, hoping to reach success, only to find there is no time to revel in this success.

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