I join you in prayer. May the bees forever pollinate the flowers of the earth. Cool memories/connection to the story. I remember being in San Fransico while reading the book and imagining the gondalas and majikal celebrations; streets filled with people of all cultures, drumming, chanting, whirling... and what it would be like for Madrone; or Bird, to remember it while living up to what had opened as their journey. The turmoil they felt and faced, quenched by divine memories of love, and community. Tribulations so intense, the memories near faded and seemed illusive. Scary. Madrone walked a fine line between the worlds; el mondo male and el mondo bueno, and she held on to a thread of faith, determined to cross for the highest good; a selfless heart which the bees could sense more then anything, like when they hovered over her floating body in the ocean, buzzing rythms of peace and calm, until Isis arrived.