This summer didn’t just bring heat. It brought a sauna cranked to “hellfire” with no one left to turn the dial back down. The air didn’t just hang heavy — it pressed in, corn sweat sticking to skin like a clingy ex who doesn’t get the hint.
That’s where this book began.
I couldn’t walk outside without feeling the edge of collapse. My body — the same one that’s already juggling chronic conditions like a circus clown on two hours of sleep — was sending signals. And they all seemed to translate to fried nerves. After watching a timely documentary on PBS about bees, I realized: the bees were doing the same. Their collapse wasn’t abstract news. It was feedback. A warning.
Why bees? Why now?
Because when an ecosystem gasps, so do the creatures inside it. And whether we want to admit it or not, we’re just bigger, sweatier bees in the same overheating hive.
The funny thing is, bees don’t collapse quietly. They buzz, they swarm, they disappear. They send messages with their very survival. We’re just not great at listening — at least not until the shelves are empty and the pollen trails are gone.
Who this book is (and isn’t) for
And look — if you’re one of those lucky souls who never minds the heat, who calls 95 degrees “just summer” and thrives in weather that makes the rest of us wilt? This book probably isn’t for you. Nothing to see here — move along, enjoy your iced tea in the sun.
For the rest of us — the ones whose bodies keep the score, who feel every pressure change, every scorch of humidity — this book is the conversation we’ve been missing.
Different from the gnomes
Some of you know me from the gnome books. Those are playful, punny, moss-capped little adventures — whimsical escapes where a goat or a cat might deliver a line better than most politicians.
This book isn’t that.
It’s not whimsical, though my wit still slips through the cracks (I can’t help it). This one is heavier. It’s heart and nerve endings, it’s the body screaming in chorus with the climate. It’s me pulling the threads between collapsing hives, chronic illness, and the way our systems — personal and planetary — are wired to warn us before they break.
An invitation
This isn’t a manifesto, and it’s not a self-help book with “10 Easy Steps to Save the Bees and Your Gut.” It’s a conversation. A reflection. A nudge to pay attention to what your body, and the world, are already telling you.
Because the bees aren’t just collapsing “out there.” They’re buzzing the same alarm we carry in our cells.
And maybe, just maybe, listening is the first step to healing — both kinds.
And if you’re still reading this far? Maybe you’re already part of the hive. 🐝
Bees, Biofeedback, and the Living Warning System - now available on Amazon.
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