When Bumble Swallowed A Sunbeam

Honey For The Heart - 25

A Drizzle of Raw Honey 🍯
What if I told you… someone once tried to swallow a sunbeam? Not out of hunger, but just to be seen. Tried so hard to be loved… he forgot how to simply be. This isn’t a story about light. It’s about what happens when you stop chasing the need to be seen, and begin honouring the silence within. And if you’re curious… only if you are… look up Brahmacharya, the fourth Yama in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. It might clear a few misconceptions around the word. Because today’s story is born from that very sutra.

“I tried to make the fireflies love me,” Bumble admitted, hiccupping. 

Piggy looked up. “Did it work?” 

“I don’t know,” Bumble groaned.
“I twirled.
I hummed.
I even balanced a petal on my nose.
They glowed… but not for me.”

Piggy blinked once and went back to reading his leaf-book, the one that held forest secrets.
“Did you eat again after that?”

“Only a little,” Bumble mumbled…
“Four honeypaws. 
And some glowing mushrooms. 
And a… sunbeam.” 

Piggy raised an eyebrow. “And did it make your tummy shine?” 

“No. It just made my head burn and my thoughts itchy.” 

“Why would you even do that, Bumble?” Piggy asked tenderly. 

“I just thought,” Bumble sighed, “if I sparkled enough, maybe everyone will notice me… more.” 

A dragonfly floated past, lazy and unbothered. 

They lay beneath the tangle-vine tree, where time felt like a dream.

“You know,” Piggy said, “the pond doesn’t try to catch the moon. It just holds still, and the moon comes close on its own.” 

Bumble was quiet.

“Piggy… why do I end up doing too much of the things I think will make me happy?” 

“Because some part of you thinks more sparkle means more love,” 
Piggy said gently. “But sparkle that needs chasing is usually borrowed. Not yours to keep.” 

Bumble turned over and hid his face in the moss.

“I thought if I filled myself with enough light, the shadows would never find me.” 

Piggy sat beside him. “You aren’t hollow. Just over-worked. From pouring yourself everywhere.” 

A leaf floated and gently landed on Bumble’s nose.
He whispered, “How do you do it, Piggy? You don’t perform. You don’t chase. You don’t gather like tomorrow won’t come.” 

Piggy chuckled. “I used to. But peace leaves when I take more than I can carry. Now I give what I have gently. And I leave space for silence to answer back.” 

Bumble looked at the last sunbeam cupped in his paw. “I think I’ll give this one back. To the grass. They never ask for more than morning.” 

And for the rest of the day, 
He didn’t twirl. 
Didn’t sparkle. 
Didn’t speak. 

He just sat… 
and let the light come to him.