Is My Honey Sticky Enough?
The other evening my minuscule alter ego “Bo Buzzbee” and I sat down to chat over a cup of mead. Actually I had a pint and Bo had a modified thimble full, but that’s a story for another post. Sometime during the rambling buzz of our nocturnal conversation I brought up the fact that after pouring my heart and soul into #thedailychalkboard on LinkedIn for well over a year now I was excited to finally break the increasingly heavy chains that were keeping me from fully sharing my posts and updates with all my connections there. I was so happy to have discovered and flown over to beBee to begin producing honey in the form of #thedailychalkboard for new hives full of people more likely to benefit from what I was producing.
Bo just gave me that glaring grin of his and reminded me that I didn’t have wings, so flying was out of the question and then added that my stinger was no match for his. I quickly reminded him that I was buying that thimble full of mead he was enjoying and to please keep his mind out of the gutter. I had something serious I wanted to discuss with him.
“Bo, I’ve been adding my honey to a few beBee hives over the past few months now. It’s been fun making new social networking acquaintances and all, but some of the buzzes I’ve been reading lately have got me to thinking,” Bo slyly slid in a snide remark about hoping that all that thinking didn’t hurt my head any and then asked, “well what’s got your stinger all bent out of shape Tinkerbell?”
“There seems to be some concern and, dare I say it, even disappointment among a few of the more skilled and productive bees at the lack of engagement and appreciation for their honey. I’m not going to stroke your stinger here Bo. You know me well enough to respect the fact that I like to say it as I see it and I’ve been feeling a little of this disappointment lately myself.”
Bo gently sat his half full thimble down on the computer desktop. “Zzzzzt…Zzzzzzt.” I could tell he was irritated by the way his wings began to sound off in short fitful bursts. I was used to it. He often gets irritated with me.
After a short pause he asked, “So who died and made you Queen Bee, hmmmmm?” I was used to his insults so I began to retort by saying, “Okay, enough of the double entendre thing here guy. First, I’m married and second that comment about stro…” but he didn’t let me finish my sentence before firing back.
“Aw shut up and listen pal! I’ve been with beBee since the beginning. Who do you think helped build all those hives anyway? Who do you think was responsible for a good portion of those little bee larva? They didn’t make themselves you know! Where do you get off thinking you can even begin to understand what happens behind the scenes at beBee when you’ve been here what, three months maybe? This is a major hive project still under construction and you have no business being disappointed in something you’ve barely been involved with.” Bo was clearly upset.
After an uncomfortably silent pause, accompanied by a long much needed draw on our mead, I asked Bo, “Hey man, do you think my honey is sticky enough?” “You’re really sick. You know that?” he said. “No really Bo”, I replied. “Is what I’m producing sweet enough and sticky enough to make a meaningful connection? Because from what I’ve been seeing in the number of relevants that I get for #thedailychalkboard posts, that I literally pour my heart and soul into every day, I’m really beginning to wonder.”
“Is that what’s been bugging you?” asked Bo, with just a hint of sarcasm in his tone. I couldn’t resist and replied, “That’s funny coming from a miniature flying piss ant like you.” He began to laugh and so did I. It was definitely the mead taking over and thankfully a much needed tension breaker at that. As much as we banter and bicker back and forth we still like each other and hold our friendship in the highest regard. We may not always agree, but we do respect one another.
We agreed to disagree as it was getting late and Bo crawled off to wherever he goes when he’s not perched in my psyche. I was left alone to ponder the question still rolling around in my head; what does it mean if I’m not getting as many relevant clicks on my posts here at beBee as I hope for? Are people reading what I write? Do they care? Should I care? The question remains.
I don’t consider myself a writer really. I often refer to myself as a hack. My grammar isn’t perfect, I often make spelling mistakes and I’m certain any true writers that I’m privileged to count among my connections cringe whenever they bother to read my haphazard attempts at sentence structure. I’m not out to impress anyone with my great writing. My purpose for #thedailychalkboard and the iPhonography hives that I have begun are for a reason other than impressing people with what “I” can do or create or sell to them.
My purpose in being here and contributing to beBee, or any of my other social media endeavors is completely directed towards inspiring and motivating others to be their very best. It’s a daily discipline in the hope of being a help not a hindrance, and a part of the solution, not the problem for my fellow travelers in life. It’s my attempt at creating a purposeful and meaningful existence prior to my shuffling off this mortal coil, to paraphrase someone who was, and remains to this day, one of the world’s greatest writers.
That said it helps a lot to know if a meaningful connection is indeed being made. It’s not an ego thing, at least not for me. It’s simply a practical numerical gauge for understanding if what I write is relevant and a wise and worthy use of my finite bank account of time on this earth. I’m certain that I am not alone in my questioning this from what I’ve read on beBee recently and in other social media venues.
This actually goes straight to the heart of what I often write about in #thedailychalkboard; the much needed step of taking action. Without action our thoughts are mere dreams as thin as the rainbow sheen of a drop of oil on the surface of a puddle. They are pretty to contemplate, but as with all rainbows, they quickly fade away when things dry up. Rainbows are meant to be shared my friends. They don’t stay around forever and you never know when you’ll see another one. Relevance is as relevance does. Remember that.
© 2016 Michael D. Davis