Quantum Physics and the Africanized Killer Bee Prophecy

Turns out I’m a prophet. Who knew?

Africanized killer bees and quantum physics are both rather strange ducks, so to speak. That those two things would combine with a passage in a book I’d written decades ago to point the prophecy finger at me…that one, I most definitely never saw coming…only, I did see it coming and just didn’t know I saw it coming, and…ah-h-h-h!

Calming down now. Let’s take this tale in chronological order. It all started last Sunday when Allen, our part time hired hand who helps out as my disabled wife’s caretaker on the weekends, told me there was a serious bee swarm/hive living under one of our steel storage sheds. Pam had told me about those bees some months back, not long after she’d been stung by one of the little honey makers, a stray who’d gotten caught up between her coat collar and her neck when she was doing laundry. I certainly hadn’t meant to downplay my redhead’s concern about the 3,000 or so bees she’d seen…but I had misunderstood her completely on one key point.

I hadn’t realized they were so close when they’d picked out their new home, queen and all. Heck, I hadn’t even realized she’d seen them claim this particular bit of real estate. Being the naturally dense sort of husband I can be at times, I’d thought she was saying there were probably “around somewhere” as a guess.

How does either quantum physics or prophecy fit in here? Hang on. It may take a while yet, but we’re getting there.

When Allen showed me the busy bees returning in precision landing patterns that would have put the Blue Angels to shame, I immediately admitted, “Yeah, I need to do something about that.”

The entrance to the bee hive, under one of our steel storage sheds.

The entrance to the bee hive, under one of our steel storage sheds.

“Something” meant, in the end, calling Truly Nolen and asking for an exterminator to wipe the bees out. Neither Pam nor I wanted to have them killed, but she’s allergic to bee venom. Although this hive had shown no desire to wantonly attack, Africanized “killer” bees have a nasty rep for aggression. The single sting she’d suffered months ago was still bothering her; a dozen would flat out kill her, graveyard dead.

We couldn’t take the chance.

An inspector from Truly Nolen came out first, on Monday, and agreed. “Yep. Those are bees, all right.”

Okay, so she didn’t say anything that ridiculous; I paraphrase. Anyway, she wrote up a service agreement and scheduled us for a “bee kill visit” from a tech on Tuesday, not wanting to let the situation go on for any longer than necessary with the lady of the house being allergic and all. When the tech arrived at around 5:00 p.m. on Tuesday, he was the soul of professionalism. Took his time talking with me, scoping the situation out, getting into his bee suit, and working two types of spray to start the extermination. He explained every step of the process, too.

The Truly Nolen tech gets into his bee suit prior to exterminating the hive.

The Truly Nolen tech gets into his bee suit prior to exterminating the hive.

“I used those blocks (concrete blocks I had sitting near the hive) to block the entrance when I filled the space with aerosol. What happens then is that thousands of bees, trying to get out, die and pile up, blocking the exit. This prevents the queen from escaping; she almost never makes it out. I’m 100% sure I got the queen.”

He went on to point out that the only bees remaining free and in the air at the moment were those relatively few foragers she’d had out when the chemical fumes hit. “They can’t get in, either, because of the dead bees piled up at the entrance.” One of the chemicals is a contact poison that can be passed from one bee to the next when they touch, which bees do a lot. “It’s supposed to kill them within 72 hours, but in my experience it’s often more like 10. By this time tomorrow, you shouldn’t see a bee.”

As it turned out, he was slightly mistaken about that…but not by much. By six p.m. today (Wednesday), there were still a dozen or so worker bees still hovering or crawling around the former hive entrance. They’d neither abandoned the hive nor died. Tough, loyal, and doomed. But a dozen is not many, and it certainly has not been 72 hours yet. Truly Nolen does good work.

Poisoning the bees really hurt, but removing them was not an option. A bee keeper would have had a doozy of a problem getting the hive intact and alive from under that shed. Not a pretty picture.

Later in the evening, I sat down at the computer to copy Chapter 11 from my book, Tales of a Golden Heart, republishing it here on this website. For a little while, I was able to forget about the suffering of the dying bees as I relived the 1985 singles dance in San Diego where I went to find me a woman. Found her, too; the gracious and beautiful lady became my fifth wife (yeah, I know). And never mind the fact that we divorced six years later; I still love her deeply, which Pammie–wife #7–understands completely.

Tales of a Golden Heart, written in 1986 and first published in 1992.

Tales of a Golden Heart, written in 1986 and first published in 1992.

Typing along, not a care in the world, I was suddenly drawn up short when I came to this passage:

“…The place was packed and busy, but aimlessly busy, a hive full of confused worker bees with no queen and more than a few drones. I’d witnessed several quick pairings as desperation met desperation and moved off into the night….”

Whoa. I instantly recognized this as prophecy, this passage I’d written in 1986 and watched come to life in literal form in 2016, thirty years later. It wasn’t the first time I’d prophesied without knowing it, either. A few years after my first science fiction novel, Ptolia, hit the market, I started noticing bits in the book that were manifesting in my life. Scared the dickens out of me. For ten years or more, I was hesitant to write at all for fear of causing something to happen in my own future!

Those were prophecies that were for me only, not for the world at large. The CWBWNQ (Confused Worker Bee With No Queen) prophecy held to that, obviously, so none of us need to think I’m going to be prognosticating on the future of the planet or anything like that.

Still, the early stuff found in Ptolia was about as cryptic as Nostradamus on a bad day…whereas the bee prophecy was right there slapping me full in the face.

Which brings us to quantum physics. According to quantum physics, at least as presented to laymen by those who study such things, linear time is an illusion. The past, present, and future are not separate things; they coexist simultaneously. Most humans think only in terms of linear time, but is that real?

Apparently not. Certain spiritual teachings agree. Eckankar, for example, teaches that there are worlds that exist within time…but there are also much higher worlds that exist outside of time, above or beyond time. There are, of course, billions of humans who would scoff at that idea simply by virtue of it being presented by anything “nonscientific”…but not so many can ignore what quantum physics has to say about it. Quantum physics is about as “sciency” as it gets.

So, what does this all mean?

For you, perhaps nothing. For me, though…wow. Time travel? Not a problem, at least in Soul form, because it’s not really travel as we think of travel; it’s simply an expanded awareness that encompasses the past, present, and future in a single moment. There is, it would seem, no separation between Point A and Point B when it comes to time…except the artificial separation perceived as real by most of us.

May the blessings bee.


For our readers who may not recognize a word like Eckankar, the definition can be found in A Glossary of Eck Terms at Eckankar.org.

13 thoughts on “Quantum Physics and the Africanized Killer Bee Prophecy

  1. I am afraid I am unable to be the bigger person, even though I am way way way bigger than a bee !, as I hate them so much that to me the only good bee is a dead one.

    I did not feel that way until July 2009, in Essex, England. We were going out for a slow evening stroll as I was nursing a broken toe. Apparently the person I was with who knows every inch of Essex having cycled all over it for over 50 years did not know that the apple and plum seller had taken up bee keeping and kept all her hives very close to the lane. I heard a lot of buzzing in my hair, I waved my hands over and over and it got worse, then they starting coming out and about 4 went on my companion and I freak out and go running down the road like a madwoman screaming ‘don’t let them bite me ‘ over and over and the little b—–d followed me down the road, circled in front of me and stung me on my top lip.

    Needless to say since that day they are permanently on my s–t list, no matter how good they are supposed to be for the earth. grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

  2. I totally understand your position. Were I you, I’d not doubt detest bees precisely as you do. Plus, a top lip sting no doubt had you swollen up like botox. (I had swollen lips one time, at age 19, but that was from an irritated poker playing buddy’s left fist crashing into my face. Can’t blame the bees for that one.)

    It’s not like I’ve never been stung, though not since 1999. Pam and I were living off grid then, too, “on the mountain” near Craig, Montana. Pam got stung once that summer; I got stung 3 different times. She had a prescription adrenaline kit on hand for just that purpose, so I was able to give her a shot immediately and she had no nasty reaction. I’m not allergic, so mine were just “what they were”.

    More likely than not, it was your hand waving, extreme fear, running, and screaming that encouraged the one bee to give up its own life by stinging you. Pam does have the fear factor going, but she controls it by sheer dint of will. I don’t have the fear at all, though getting zapped in the face a few times would probably change that. The tech and I were talking at one point, he in his bee suit and me in my usual civilian attire, when he suddenly spoke in alarm.

    “Don’t move! There’s a bee on your shoulder!”

    I looked. Happily, little sister was not actually on my shoulder but farther down, on loose upper arm shirt fabric. I knew she was confused and looking for comfort, but since I was the guy who’d ordered her entire family to be murdered, her included, I didn’t have a whole lot of comfort to give. Still, I spoke to her gently for a bit, eased my other hand over slowly to get a pinch of shirt cloth just below the elbow, and, when ready, flipped the cloth outward, launching her skyward. She flew off, most likely to join her siblings in their hopeless attempt to reenter the now-deadly hive.

    I’m much less a fan of wasps, especially since, (a) a lot of wasps are predators of one sort or another, not flower loving vegetarian honey makers, (b) wasps can sting repeatedly without dying, and (c) they are not, to me, as “cute” as bees, either. My mother (deceased 2002) used to treat wasps rather effectively when they’d get into her house. She’d use an upside down water glass rim to pin one against the window glass, then cut off its head with a wood chisel. She was in her late 80’s at the time.

  3. I like to stick my head up into the branches of a blossoming tree while the bees buzz around doing their thing. I probably wouldn’t try that around a hive (: I haven’t been stung in decades, and I’m not allergic, so I can’t judge those who hate the fuzzy critters. And I understand doing what must be done. Wasps are okay by me, too. We have a species of mud dauber here, and I’ve read that some mud daubers prey mainly on black widows and their kin. Not that black widows bother me; I’ll go into a crawlspace and pass by them in the entrance and around the beams below. But I’ve never been bit, so I guess that makes it easier not to fear them.

    Anyway, interesting little prophesy. Many people would chalk it up to coincidence, but I think science could one day prove that there’s no such thing.

  4. You’re right about that, Leonid. At least, my wife has been bitten by a brown recluse and fears them…and my Dad (deceased 1997) didn’t have much use for black widows, having been bitten in the neck during his U.S. Navy time in Florida during World War II. Pam came lose to losing her right hand; Dad came close to kicking the bucket.

    Some of us already know full well there’s no such thing as coincidence. You could be right; science might actually catch up one of these days. 😀

  5. It’s funny how in modern America there are still things that can kill a man with one little bite. It’s still the wild West in many ways (or wild South). I’ve thought about the possibility of increasing my tolerance of widow venom by getting myself bit by a male or a baby, in case I get bit by a female someday. I’d have to do some research first. Speaking of venomous critters, I saw my first rattlesnake last week. My brother and I were riding bikes on the Weiser River trail an hour north of here, and we passed by a good-sized rattler just off the trail, and later a small one on the trail. Don’t know what kind, and I’ve never seen any around the grasslands hereabouts (just north of Caldwell).

  6. Elizabeth-Anne: Don’t blame you! We’re not planting any of those, either–since we don’t plant anything, period–but where we live, Mother Nature provides plenty of bee attracting plants anyway. For example, the bees just love the mesquite catkins that cover the trees every spring (and some in early summer).


    Leonid: Didn’t realize you lived in Idaho until just now. If you have a good visual recall of what those rattlers looked like, my first suggestion would be to check out Google Images for “prairie rattlesnakes.” In Montana (where I grew up), we called them all “diamondbacks” (except for the occasional “timber rattler”), but that wasn’t necessarily accurate from a so-called scientific viewpoint.

    Then a bit of Googling for “Idaho rattlesnakes” would give you additional clues, should you care enough to keep on investigating.

  7. Lord have mercy !!!
    What you guys have to deal with makes my blood turn to ice, and mind you, I am an animal person, owning at the moment 3 cats and 2 mice, and a long time vegetarian and animal rights supporter. That said if I had to worry every time I went out for walkies that a snake would get my ankle or yet another bee fly into my mug and sting my mouth, I would really be in freak out mode 24/7 !!!! ( I have both panic and anxiety disorder, so try to avoid things that make me freak ). The worst I have to deal with in NY, besides the people, are the occasional house spider, roach, wasp , that said the bane of my life are the huge giant waterbugs which has scared the life out of me since I was a kid, they fly, they go on you, and are as bold as brass. No matter how many times we have tried sealing up every crack, nook and cranny the buggers still manage to get in the house, now even in winter with global warming, and make themselves uninvited guests. ONe time I pulled back the shower curtain and guess who was in there before me ????? Peeping Tom indeed. 🙂

  8. Now see? It’s all about what you’re used to! I’ve never much cared for those “huge giant waterbugs” either. But we do have “good habits” that keep us free from snakebite. For example, neither of us walks into any sort of vegetation where we can’t see our feet if we can possibly avoid it, and there’s quite a bit of “bare dirt” for us to travel on around here. The bees are definitely a “scare problem” for Pam, though; I can’t deny that.

    Pam’s brown recluse bite happened when we lived off grid in Montana (1999-2002). She’s not had anything that nasty hit her here, though one of her problems, admittedly, is that a lot of critters including “wee biters” are attracted to her for whatever reason.

    All in all, living out in “wildlife territory” is a lot LESS stressful for Pam (and for me as well, but her health concerns are paramount) than living among human neighbors. She does not do well in even a tiny town, let alone a major city.

    If we really had our druthers, we’d be in a much more remote setting than we are. We can still see the tops of a few roofs of neighbors, 1/4 to 1/2 mile away, over the mesquite–and we do not care for that. 😀

  9. Yes, I hear you. I have lived in Brooklyn, NY for 55 years apart from time spent living in England and other much shorter trips. It has 3 million people here, and 9 million in NYC itself, and while I am very friendly, chatty and extroverted by nature, I’ve done my time.

    I don’t know what I want anymore – I have become agoraphobic, but not so much from fear, just that there is nothing outside my front door that I need to see or be part of anymore. I live in an area that is 99% of one religion that does not associate with anybody who is not part of them, as well as anybody who is not the right color, and any other nationality or religion is out too. So I stay in, I go out when forced to, then high tail it back into my room. My mental health workers are not particularly happy about it, but hey…..

    I love Philly, but what is the real point of trading one hectic, crime ridden city for another. I love upstate NY in the Catskill Mountains, but not sure how I would fare if that was my life 24/7 with no husband, children or family should I need help with something.

    I like the South but I hate the sun, heat, bugs, so that’s out.

    I love rain, so there’s Seattle, but I know nothing about it and I have never been on the West Coast in my life.

    Pondering …………………

  10. Seattle is not a bad city at all. If I were to move to that area, though, I’d take a serious look at Bellingham (north of Seattle). That said, the rain apparently gets the credit for the suicide rate in Seattle, which is the highest in the country (or was, anyway, last time I checked).

    Keep in mind, I’ve never lived in either city. Have lived in Washington state, but that was in Spokane (for 3 years) and Wenatchee (for 1 year).

  11. Pretty heavy stuff, Ghost. I’m glad you got rid of the bees and Pam is now safe. The quantum physics thing is pretty freaky. If the past, present and future are all blended, how do scientists explain the aging process? When your bees from 1986 made an appearance in 2016, why were you not 20 years younger at the time of their latest appearance?


  12. Hm. Well, Sha, I’m no quantum physicist, as my college grades in basic introductory physics will attest, so I can’t speak for the scientists in any comprehensive way. But through my study of Eckankar over the decades, I do see it like this: Our human bodies live within the constraints of matter, energy, space, and time–the MEST worlds if you like acronyms, or “messed” worlds if you look around at the evening news on the TV. (Bad pun, yeah, I know.)

    But Soul is not limited to those worlds. Oh, most of us think we are, for sure. However, our true home lies well beyond all that, in a sea of love, awareness, knowing, and being. Only when we “dip down” into the lower worlds (what the majority of the population would tout as “reality”) do we take on the APPEARANCE of being younger, middle aged, or older. As one spiritual traveler once put it, “We are the children of God and the victims of semantics.” Language and the mind both fail us at some point, being inadequate to convey what neither can possibly grasp.

    Let me share two dream state experiences I had, something like 40 years ago or so. At that time, I was mildly obsessed with time travel, not necessarily in the human body, but in awareness. After being in this condition for some months, or perhaps a year or two, thinking about it quite a bit, the veil parted when I was 30 years of age. On one dream travel journey, Carolyn (my 2nd wife) and I went together. In a yard behind a low, white picket fence, we met up with me (Fred) when he (I) was about seven years old. The little guy was scared to death of the big bad me I’d become as an adult, so it was fortunate that Carolyn was with me; he loved her on sight, and eventually quit worrying about me. All in all, a very good meeting by the end of it.

    Some time later, whether or not with Carolyn in tow I don’t remember, I met a much older me. That man was huge, at least 8 feet in height and broad of build, at least as bald as I am now (or more so, wearing work clothes and a broad smile that beamed nothing but good will. Unlike my childhood self, I felt no fear of this older me, whom I perceived (because of his size in the dream) as a “spiritual giant,” and went straight to him for a massive hug–despite the fact that I was as a child hugging a man, size for size.

    Obviously, I’ve got a fair bit to go before becoming any sort of spiritual giant, still very much traveling the road from childhood to that, but the combination of those two experiences settled me down on the “meet myself time travel” issue rather nicely. Still, the seven year old me still exists, and the however-old me already exists. I have no doubt. I may not be Marty McFly in Back to the Future; I simply is what I is (to mangle Popeye’s “I yam what I yam.”), which is quite a lot more than what we see when looking only at the linear time line.

    Same for the bees. 🙂

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