Bees, Balance, and the Art of Living Well

Glorious Mount Assiniboine

I just had the absolute gift of spending three days in Mount Assiniboine Park, hiking with friends through one of the most jaw-dropping landscapes I’ve ever seen. The kind of place that makes your soul exhale.

The mountain vistas were beyond epic, peaks jagged and commanding, rising from the valleys like ancient guardians. From the alpine ridges, the lakes below were painted in impossible shades of teal and blue, colours so vivid they didn’t seem real. The weather was all over the map, bright sunshine one minute, moody clouds rolling in the next but it spared us any real drenching during our daily explorations.

One of several alpine meadows on the way up to Wonder Pass, Mount Assiniboine Provincial Park

The alpine meadows were their own masterpiece. They were alive with colour, wildflowers of every hue, some varieties I’d never seen before, and after decades of wandering the wild, finding something entirely new is a rare and wonderful gift. Marmots whistled warnings from their rocky lookouts, pikas darted between stones with mouths full of grass, and Columbian ground squirrels and chipmunks bustled through their daily routines. Birds sang from the edges of the forest, filling the air with sound.

And then there were the bees.

Busy honey bee on one of the vivid magenta paintbrushes

Kilometer after kilometer, peak after peak, it was the bees that captivated me the most.

They were everywhere... small, determined, and impossibly busy. In the early morning, I’d spot them frozen in the dew-soaked flowers, perfectly still until the first rays of sun warmed them enough to move. By midday, they were relentless, weaving from blossom to blossom, their tiny bodies carrying the future of these meadows on their backs.

I found myself thinking about them constantly. I know enough about bees to understand that without them, there is no life as we know it. These tiny, tireless workers are one of the main reasons I could stand there, breathing in the alpine air, surrounded by healthy, thriving ecosystems. Without their quiet, consistent work, there would be no painted meadows, no berries for birds, no seeds for the wind to carry.

One moment that will stay with me forever was seeing a single little bee at 8,600 feet, tirelessly working on a the smallest patch of forget-me-nots clinging to the side of Wonder Peak. How on earth did it know to get up there? How did it find this tiny speck of life in a place so wild, so remote, so harsh? And yet there it was... doing its part, ensuring this lone flower could keep on living, keep on giving.

Watching them, I realized bees might be the perfect teachers of balance.

They work endlessly, yes but they also rest when needed, waiting for warmth before they move. They understand the rhythm of the seasons and adapt to it, never forcing what can’t be done. They take only what they need and in the process, give far more back to the world than they ever take.

Sunburst peak reflecting on Sunburst Lake

Bees live in complete reciprocity with their environment. Every movement they make is part of a larger, interconnected system where their work benefits not just themselves but countless others.

And isn’t that exactly what a balanced life should be?

Knowing when to move and when to rest. Giving as much as you take, if not more.

Working hard, but never losing sight of the bigger picture.

Their presence in Mount Assiniboine reminded me that balance isn’t about doing nothing or doing everything it’s about doing what matters, at the right time, with intention. It’s about understanding that even the smallest acts can ripple out into something far bigger than ourselves.

Maybe we all need to live a little more like the bees.