Let's say we're all bees. Each and every one of us is buzzing about-
buzz buzz buzz.
The honey that we make is our lives. Experience has taught me two things...


...and LIFE is only as yummy as you make it!

Are YOU a Killer Bee?

bee my guest?

bee my guest?
Howdy Beezers! I'm excited to share something new with you... Over the upcoming months, most of the content you'll be seeing here will be from special guest contibutors! This is sure to add a new texture to this thing we've been weaving over the years. I know that many of my readers (yes, you!) are writers, artists, musicians and filmmakers. PLEASE feel free to contact me if there's something you'd like to contribute! I'd be most honored to pollinate... send me a note: m.mckinley@rocketmail.com

please be seated

December 15, 2009


I don't ever remember believing in Santa Claus.
I guess I just always knew that "Santa" was really Mom. It was sort of a wink and a nod type of agreement, and nothing ever needed to to be explained. I have however, always believed in certain things. Like hope, and dreams, and possibilities...

The other day I was passing through The Grand Avenue on my way home from work. I stopped in the food court and sat down for a minute to take a phone call. When my conversation was finished, I spied a young black kid down on the first level, in the center of the mall. He was maybe 13 or 14 years old, and dressed in a real tough, bad-boy fashion that said "Don't mess with me". He was motionless and completely transfixed. For performing there in the round, was a 16 piece, automated orchestra of gigantic teddy bears dressed in tuxedos. There was even a quartet of teddy bear singers [a la The Manhattan Transfer]. They would come to life without notice, play a cheerful holiday tune, then suddenly go silent- until the electronic programing device once again prompted them to play.

I sat there watching him watch the orchestra for at least 15 minutes. I won't pretend to know what this young man's story was, or what his Christmas will be like, but it occured to me that the rough, protective armor he wore was little more than just that. It kinda broke my heart and inspired me at the same time. For 15 minutes he was able to be caught up in the wonderment and fantasy, to just be a kid. And he took me there with him.

The holidays are a time when words like "believe" and "miracles" chirp in our ears almost constantly. Shouldn't these words be at the forefront of our vocabularies all year round? My friend Cassandra always says that words are things. What we say and believe, we manifest. Think of the global power we could harness if we tell ourselves [and others] that anything is possible!

Don't we want the world to be a more peaceful and healthy place for future generations? Then we must remember how important it is to look at life, and to that future, through the eyes of a child. The eyes that find it so easy to see things with unconditional hope. The heart that so effortlessly loves, and so readily forgives. The one that knows how to find the magic in Santa or an orchestra of bears. In doing so we will ensure that they never loose that ability to see a world, a future of infinite possibility. To believe.


mary said...

Michael you were just the cutest little boy!! I love you so much!!

Cherrie L. Hanson said...

Beautifully captured moment from the mind of a sensitive wordsmith...thank you Michael for sharing your perspective and talents, as always.

Buzz Out!

Buzz Out!