Bear Thoughts
Bee(,)Honey(,)Bear
There is a cave/bear skull, womb, belly/hive made out of an old childrens play dome, a home of climbing and make believe, and aluminum flashing that makes a terrible sound. It is difficult to cut and is very sharp. It is the claw, the tooth, the stinger. Over and under the metal are strings of beads and bells and chains and crystals. The beads are from post-Christmas street finds and curtain beads, the bells are sleigh bells, the chains are from old tire chains and that I’ve had hanging around for awhile. The crystals I got off of a facebook free group, a deconstructed chandelier. They rattle against the metal when it shakes. They make the subtle drone into a rattle. They sparkle and drip. They are glamour and style. They take the metal ensconced hive and make it a home. Bears are for making homey comfort after all. And Bears are gay. The cave has two hot pink fur ears with megaphones inside that further amplify the rattle. They are ears that amplify sound, but they are also listeners. The megaphone takes in the sound and makes it louder to be heard. The clarified, discerning listening of a megaphone - shout. Hot pink fur lined megaphones amplifying the bear cave, but awkwardly. They are not clear, they add their own filter. They are crude. The sound of the megaphone is distinct and distinctly not like what comes out of the mouth. It is a trans sound. In the cave, there is a hot pink fur rug that will become my bear coat. There are bells hanging from the roof. They have label maker stickers on them that say, “Rattle Me”. There are copper bowls of kazoos that say, “Hum In Me”. There is an altar in the center. Covered in a sequin table cloth and RealTree altar cloth. There is a pile of glowing bee string lights with a thrifted glass plate. On the glass flower plate is raw honey. Cut into cubes with toothpick labels, “Eat me”. Stabbed in the center of the honey fire is the fork of the bee stuffed intestine/8 foot penis coming from between the legs of the bee/hot gay musician clown priest. Dressed in a cheap halloween bee costume, hand-appliqued flower booty shorts, sparkle Docs that are falling apart with wings, and a Blaze Orange Stormy Cromer hat. X’s painted over the eyes.
Wielding a cello bow, they slowly drag the bow across a metal industrial wire stretched taut across the cave. Separating musician from audience/hive/bee sacrifice/offering. The priest presides. In their lap is a french horn, muted and reconstituted, modulated, and looped. The bee blows while buzzing into the horn, creating a layered looping the pulses alive the hive, muffled in the belly of the bear. The fallen soldiers. The protein. The larvae. The honey. The musician carefully watches those who come in the cave with a gentle welcoming presence. Inviting those who sit to rattle and hum. Responding to their sounds with sympathetic bowing and buzzing. A playful recreation.
The California Grizzly was last seen outside of Yosemite in 1924. The first time I looked up this information in 2021, the truth was the last bear was killed north of LA in 1924. Now when I look again, the last bear killed was north of LA in 1918, but the last bear seen was outside of Yosemite. A strange door that has opened since I started this work. There is a public awareness campaign right now and the California State Senate passed a resolution declaring 2024 the "Year of the California Grizzly Bear."
Senate Resolution 75, sponsored by the California Grizzly Alliance, aims to raise public awareness about the cost of losing grizzly bears and other elements of California's unique biodiversity. While it does not explicitly call for the reintroduction of the bear, the resolution encourages Californians to observe this year by promoting the conservation and restoration of the state's wildlife through activities, events, and educational programs. https://www.oneearth.org/year-of-california-grizzly-bear-2024/#:~:text=Potential%20for%20rewilding&text=There%20is%20no%20biological%20reason,where%20suitable%20habitat%20still%20exists.
When brave and foolish souls enter the cave. They can sit or lay watching the twinkling bees, and mischievous player. They can enjoy the strange and delightful sensation of eating raw honey (“Eat Me”), play the kazoos and become eaten bees (“Hum in Me”), and shake the dangling bells (“Rattle Me”). For the reluctant, the inviting gesture and wordless direction of the fallen warrior bee invite to the honey sesh. Back and forth, interweaving hums and growls. Each leaves with their plastic kazoo in hand to buzz into the night. Leaving the sated bear behind.
The dead gay bee/performer/cub is eager. Anxious. Awkward. They are trying to do too many things at once and watch you at the same time. Gesturing for you to play along. Playfully. They are juggling a lot but when you are in their sights, everything else melts away. It happens once or twice. It's almost frightening. You're strangers after all. At first it's play, but if you stick around making enough sound, the droning cave, the sweet honey, the bells, your breath in the kazoo, perhaps something else will come in. I cannot say what, but if my dreams come true, you'll feel something like love. Something like freedom. Something like you’ve become aware that you are made of 10 million billion worms and where your worms begin and my worms end doesn't make a difference. But that's a lot to ask. Although, what else is there worth asking for?
A yellow face with X’s for eyes and a round, open mouth. Often depicted with raised or furrowed eyebrows. Facebook’s design features a purple forehead. Previously displayed with spiral eyes on some platforms.
May convey a heightened or hyperbolic sense of such feelings as shock, surprise, disbelief, awe, and amazement, as if staggered to the point of disorientation (i.e., dizzy). May also represent sickness, nausea, intoxication, and death, e.g., slang I’m dead!
Face with Crossed-Out Eyes was approved as part of Unicode 6.0 in 2010 under the name "Dizzy Face" and added to Emoji 1.0 in 2015.
https://emojipedia.org/dizzy-face
Acknowledgments
I would like to acknowledge and thank the wisdom, insight, and sacrifice of the many people, places, and beings that have gone into the unfolding of The Bear.
First, to the Bear. The imaginal and physical, extinct and extant, pine clawed and toothed, red-eyed and gracious being that haunts and excites my erotic poetics. Thank you.
To The bee. The cave. The hive. The hum. The rattle. To what feeds the bear and keeps them sated. Thank you.
Next, to my mentors. Those who gently and not so gently guide me to uncover what this work has to teach. Initiating me into the bardic path and holding me to claim, unmask, and reveal, a skinless life of my own. To Eve Bradford (@) for your keen nose and powers of loving distillation and reflection. To MeLisa Moore (@) for your keen ear and deep wealth of generous knowledge, and to Ashton Phillips (@) for not letting me get away with a half-assed thought and for hours and hours of unraveling. This work would not be what it is without each of you, and your guidance has led me to uncover some of the most profound and important learnings of my life. Thank you.
To the teachers Malidoma Some, Kim Krans, (text list)
To my roommates. Who sacrificed a significant portion of our backyard and living room and not a zero amount of sleep as I figured out how to get the metal cave/belly/hive/skull/womb from flapping in the morning sea breeze. I am so very grateful for your support, patience, and sacrifice. Thank you.
To my friends. To Adair Skehan and Xander Astra for your technical consultation. To Viet Ngheim, Rayne Banneck, and Elizabeth Francis Folk for your support in the earlier iterations of this work. To Liz Gerheart and the generous Jeffrey Pine for your support during my residency at PonyFarm and connecting me to the Golden Bear. Thank you.
To my Finnish ancestors and to all of those who protected and sang and translated the old songs and who honored the Bear. Thank you.
You have been my brothers, sisters, lovers, mothers, fathers, and friends. Thank you.