When Nature Has No Ego

There is something miraculous in nature that I always observe with admiration: the beehive. It is not merely a collection of thousands of individuals but rather like a single organism, a "super-organism" without ego.

Within the hive, no one gives orders, and no one leads, yet everything operates in an extraordinarily harmonious way. When the queen grows old, the colony instinctively knows it needs to raise a new queen without announcements, without meetings, as if responding to some silent call. Scout bees venture out to search and convey information to the entire colony through dance in small circles and tiny zigzag patterns that contain an entire map home.

I remember this one time, while I was walking in the park, I just stopped and watched bees buzzing around wildflowers. At that moment, I thought to myself, "It seems they're talking to each other. Not with words, but through an invisible language, efficient, precise, and far more authentic."

When the hive becomes too crowded, a portion naturally splits off to form a new colony without fighting or resentment, simply a natural adjustment. There is no domination here, only collective intelligence maintained through signals and biological instinct. Each individual understands its role, not because it was assigned, but because it already exists within them.

This is a form of egoless balance where life self-organizes around a functional center, not around power. I've thought about this for a long time. And I wonder: could this be what we humans have lost? How far have we drifted from this original "super-organism" state?

From the beginning, our ancestors lived in harmony with nature. The strong hunted, the skillful wove nets, and the observant kept watch. Each person took on a role suited to them, not because they were appointed, but because that was how they contributed to the community. Perhaps they never asked, "Am I important?" They simply knew they were living, breathing, and doing their part in the collective whole.

But somewhere along the way, perhaps when we began naming everything, when we learned to count and accumulate, ego consciousness began to stir. Humans started comparing: Do I have more than him? Am I better than her? We established hierarchies and built social reference systems based on status, wealth, and knowledge.

Gradually, in a system where everyone wants to become the "queen bee," we lost connection with the "hive" within ourselves. Each person became an island, trying to guard their own shores. And between these islands, the common flow, the life force that binds us, slowly dried up.

The difference between "center" and "domination" is something I often contemplate. In nature, the queen bee is a functional center, not a "monarch" who dominates. She serves the whole through reproductive energy and bonding pheromones, a gentle yet essential presence, like the heart in a body. No one fears her, yet the worker bees naturally orient toward her.

But in human society, leaders are often understood as those who wield power, who give commands, rather than those who serve the collective function. We forget that true strength lies not in domination but in nurturing. The social reference system thus becomes inverted, from serving life to using life to reinforce the ego. And in this inversion, we lose connection, and we lose the warmth of belonging to something greater.

When we separate from our essential being, we begin seeking value through social reference systems. We ask: What do people think of me? Am I good enough? Am I worthy? Am I weird because I don't follow what most people do? These questions are like invisible threads binding us to an ever-shifting frame.

But in true being, like bees in their colony, no one needs to prove who they are. Worker bees don't envy the queen, and the queen doesn't feel superior because of her role. The entire colony operates for the common flow of life, without titles, without external validation. Each bee simply...lives.

And humans, when we return to the quiet being within, can also touch that state. We don't need to become anyone, we only need to live in rhythm with the life within us.

I often remember those winter weekends in Canada. Outside, below freezing, snow falling white and thick. Alone in a foreign land, far from family, many might think I was lonely, but strangely, I felt warm and peaceful in the most unexpected way.

Just brewing a hot cup of coffee, sitting by the window, watching snowflakes fall silently. Sipping slowly, feeling warmth spread through my palms, gazing at trees standing still in the white snow, needing to do nothing, needing to go nowhere. Simply being there, breathing, and feeling the flow of time, slow, gentle, and unhurried.

In those moments, I didn't need to prove anything, and I didn't need anyone's recognition. I was just a small part of this world, like a snowflake in the winter sky, like a bee in its colony, just enough, complete, and belonging.

I found harmony and peace within my soul. Not because I gained something more, but because I let go of the need to "have more." And in that letting go, I realized I had always been enough, for a very long time.

Like bees returning to their hive at dusk. Not asking, "Did I do well enough today?" Just knowing they had flown, had lived a full day. And tomorrow, when the sun rises again, they will fly once more, not because they must, but because that is the natural flow within them.

— Q