Last night as I meanderingly made my way around another round of the pentagrammatic shape going into yet another sweater (this is what sweater love is all about, folks), I noticed a bumblebee buzzing around the lampshade. After getting over my initial *aaaaaahyikesglurp* reaction, I decided that watchful waiting, as per usual, would be my way of dealing with the situation.
It buzzed and buzzed around the lamp and the shade, the kind of sound that sounds so angry to human ears. It was both interested and rather repelled by the light and the lampshade. What it was trying to get at, I am not sure. It is possible that it desired greater freedom than that presented within the domecile. It appeared to miss its natural habitat. Certainly the manufactured, inorganic materials within were worthy of less interest to it than things such as flowers and all the other vegetation outdoors.
It seemed to know what it was missing and that something was not right. It didn't really know where to go, though. In less-enclosed circumstances, it could easily fly the few feet it would take to get to the great outdoors, where the bee really belonged. I don't know how it got in, and it seems to have forgotten how it got in as well. It had no way, then, of making a way out.
I thought about the situation. On a purely logical level, it could be easy for me to help the bee back to where it belonged. This would involve somehow capturing the bee temporarily and then moving it back outdoors and letting it go. I could attempt to kill it. Either way could either take care of the issue with the possibility of things going badly and it trying (and maybe succeeding) to sting me. Success in killing it would solve my immediate problem and would obliterate any issues it had, while success in getting it back outdoors would be mutually beneficial.
So, what did I end up doing? Nothing. Nothing at all. The bee will likely die a long, slow, agonizing death away from friends and loved ones, and I will hope it doesn't sting me during its dying process.
There seems to be a metaphor in this as it applies to the human condition. Some things I thought about: how amazing it is that the bee is so close to actual freedom and doesn't realize it. The bee doesn't realize all of the openings that exist for it to flee. How possible it is for others to have an effect on the bee's condition, but they don't help out for fear of the bee hurting them - and how the bee will probably not realize that any aid given is help, but could very likely take it as an attack and react in that fashion.