Unraveling the Messages from the Universe
This week, I was stung by an unidentified flying insect. I wasn’t tromping through the land, or harvesting late, or weeding. I was just sitting having an evening snack and drink with kindred. From the description of those who witnessed the attack, it was as tiny barely a fingernail width, colored mainly black with a pointed lower abdomen and a narrow waist called a petiole. That description matches a western honey bee, that accidentally flew into my elbow and felt I was attacking it. The jury is still out as to what it was that stung me, but it certainly got my attention.
At the moment that it happened, I felt like I was in a weird dream state. Things were so pleasant and then in an instant they were not. For days, my elbow looked like it was missing because of the swelling and hives. I’ll live, and I’m much better. But the discomfort lasts all week. As I treated my sting site, I recalled the weird dream state that happened in the previous years as well. My body and my energy were on high alert, which often brings in my witchy brain asap. This was worth noting and would lead me down an interesting daydreaming path. Like the wasp sting awakened this creative, intuitive, meditative channel of communication between myself and the Universe.
Each year that I have lived here at Villa Westwyk I have been stung. I don’t have an anaphylactic response, but I always get swelling, pain, hives, fatigue, and in some instances, it triggers an asthma attack. To be fair, as a Witch who works closely with the Land, it is a hazard of the job. Because I apply permaculture principles to my Witchcraft practice, I noticed that behavior, as one of its key tenets is to observe and interact. Well, I’m watching me get stung once a year, every year since residing here. And I think I know what’s happening.
Each incident has involved a different flying wasp or bee each time. The first was a bald-faced hornet. They look like the mean thing they are. They are black and white with an almost skeletal appearance. They can be super aggressive. Their sting is very painful. Being stung by a bald-faced hornet was one of the worst stings I’ve experienced, partly because the bugger hit me more than once. I was weeding a section of Land that had been crying out for healing – removing invasive species – and I must have disturbed a nest. I did not return to that section of Land until the following season. The attack site – my wrist and put me on my ass for a few days with my allergic response. It hurt so badly, I had to ice the sting site like once an hour when awake. Sleeping was hard because it just throbbed, burned, ached, and itched incessantly and restfulness was nearly impossible. I did compresses, tinctures, teas, and all kinds of anti-inflammatory treatments. I give bald-faced hornets a wide berth still today.
The second growing season here I was stung by a bumblebee. That one hurt my feelings the most. I love the chonky bumblebees as they bungee jump from lavender stem to lavender stem. The physical recovery from that was not too bad, and the result was the setting of the rule that all harvesting has to be done before bee hour (around 10 a.m.). But it still wasn’t a cakewalk. Again, I was super sensitive the rest of the season when one of those very loud bumbles bobbed into view. I would immediately leave the area if one was about. I didn’t scream or cry or make a scene. Just a quick about-face away from wherever it was grazing.
Last year the sting came from the asshole of pollinators – the yellowjacket. Yes, yellowjackets are accidental pollinators as they fly from spot to spot in the garden eating the insects you hate to have in your garden like caterpillars and harmful flies. Yellow jackets eat a lot of the insects that like to harm fruit trees, so I want to give them a chance. But even so, they can be triggered to sting quickly, thereby achieving its asshole pollinator label. Yes, yes, even as an animist there are energies in this world I cannot abide. The yellow jacket has been on that list my entire life. Growing up we called yellow jackets sweat bees because they were always about when you were sweating outside in the heat. However, true sweat bees don’t sting and are sometimes called fairy wasps. But, the yellow jacket? Their sting has an intense pain level.
In the summer of 2023, the whole of the covenstead was infested with yellow jackets. Mr. Troy was stung several times as he played pest control serviceman to root out the massive hive under one of the pine trees not too far from our house. One of our dogs is deathly allergic to insect venom, having been hospitalized early in her life from a bee sting. Yellow jackets, like bald-faced hornets, can sting multiple times and they run in packs. Eradicating such sneaky hives is therefore a must. But not before those little assholes left their mark on both the humans living here. The lesson there was to pay attention more carefully to spaces the yellow jackets are drawn to and to design our landscaping in a manner that helps assist their natural predators – mainly birds like the Western tanagers. We have also heavily planted repelling plants all around the house especially. Plants like lavender, mint, lemongrass, marigolds, and thyme are ones that yellowjackets avoid. Next year we’ll be setting up a predatory pitcher plant bed to also help curb not only the yellowjackets but biting flies. When using our space during wasp season, we keep the yellow jackets occupied with a small offering of ripe watermelon or sliced cucumber placed in a different area from where you’re enjoying the outdoors. Their attention will be on the offering and not on your BBQ chicken and salad.
It’s clearly a trend these annual stings I’m receiving. I can’t help but think this is some kind of message from the Land, the Universe, my beloved dead, Spirit, or all of them. Four years, four stings. Like a fire drill for my spiritual life. I feel like the Universe is grabbing me by the elbow and trying to get my attention. Each incident has made me slow down, prioritize self-care, and remember that life isn’t all about work. After this latest wasp sting, I knew there was so much more to what was going on. Enter my dreamwork practice to the rescue. Dream messages don’t just come at night, Witches. They can come whenever we can switch our brain into that space of receiving messages. Given that understanding, what do these wasp stings annually mean?
In my Dreamwork, wasps, especially, denote social connections – family, friends, coworkers, and even the collective community. Have you seen how wasps work together? Even solitary wasps use other flora and fauna to survive. Looking at where I was stung to lends other clues. The wrist, the shoulder, my neck, and my elbow. The wrist may denote flexibility, adaptability, and certainly connection. But it’s also a super vulnerable part of our anatomy. Raise your hand if you have carpal tunnel, or if the worst part of doing planks is the pain in your wrists.
The shoulder much like the wrist connects the arm to the body. It also may represent responsibilities ala “carrying the world on her shoulders.” It can symbolize comfort or support. And shoulder can also be about pushing forward – think a football player – or not giving in on the sidewalk to people who don’t move to provide egress. Whereas signs or dream elements that incorporate the neck can mean there’s a throat chakra issue, or an ancestral wound involving the neck (if you know anything about the Witch wound, this is not surprising). Again, the neck connects the head and body and some of the most critical nerves and circulatory systems members are in the neck. It’s the thoroughfare of life in your body.
The elbow is the motivator of hard work when we look at its potential symbolism. Give it some elbow grease, or you must elbow your way to the top – it gives that kind of vibes. It is also a connector between the upper arm and the lower arm. An insect sting on the elbow as a message in dreams or a sign from the Universe tells me that prioritizing pointed connections. An insect sting on my neck says to prioritize critical connections. The responsibility of right relationship is mine to shoulder. And it is critical that I do so in a vulnerable way.
It might take me a few years to get the message – noted. I’m pretty sure I got it and what I have to do next – besides all the physical mitigation noted above. It’s time for me to spend some time being capricious and pensive. To observe if my connections, my relationships, and my community may need some pointed ‘medicine.’ Perhaps I need to work harder at these connections and take responsibility for where I am not doing so.
I certainly know that I’m not waiting for next summer for another sting to get to work on these nudges from Divine.
