‘Where the bee sucks, there suck I
In a cowslip’s bell I lie
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat’s back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.’
[The Tempest, 5.1.88-94]
The damage of a calculating educational regime digs its claws into an individual’s development, until even as grown-ups we feel guilty unless we can tell ourselves we are using our time productively every waking moment.
Animals—flying, walking, swimming and crawling—find merry joy in the process of a life’s work in harmony with the flora and fauna. Our notion of productivity, however, usually involves being destructive to Nature and everything that sustains it and us. No wonder we find it exhausting.
We all suck where the bee sucks. Worthwhile endeavours are the outlaws of modern society’s constructions. They do not cost the earth, only require that we treasure our surroundings.
Take Physic, Pomp!