To The Ben's of The World

From an eagle's perspective, it was a perfect location. The greenery of a field deep forest tree surrounding a lake with a man-made bridge. From a child's perspective, it was an adventure playground. And from my perspective, well it started off pleasant...

Out on a rug on top of the luscious freshly cut grass, I lay pleasantly soaking in the warm winters sun. I had my notebook with me, open. I wanted to unwind and figure out how to solve a dilemma at work. The sounds of the ducks floating in the lake gave me some sort of peace, the distant laughter of the children in the playground made me feel stressed. I was deep in a thought. I know the thought was important. I just can’t quite remember what it was because I was interrupted by a small boy. He must have been no older than eight. You see, while I was laying down in the grass, deep in the exact thought I am trying to reconnect with, a boy approached me. He didn’t say much at first, he just stood there rocking backwards and forwards, playing with his hands as he stared down at my shoes. I smiled at the boy. I was waiting for someone to call his name, an adult to walk over to us, anything. No one called out, no one walked over. It was just me and this kid. I asked him his name. With his eyes locked on my shoes, he placed his left hand over his right hand and forcefully pushed his hands to chest and called out his name.

“Ben!...I.. I.. I am.. am Ben.” He continued to say with a stutter.

“Hi Ben, do you need help? Are you lost?” I asked calmly.

His eyes hadn’t left my white shoes, and he didn’t answer my question. Instead, with a sad expression, Ben asked me a different question, with a shaken worried tone.

“Why.. why.. why does a bee die after it stings you?” With his eyes still glued to my shoes, Ben held out his hand to show me that he was holding a dead bee. My first initial thought went right back to the child’s wellbeing.

“Who owns this child? Did he get stung?” I thought to myself as my eyes skimmed over the perimeter. No distressed adults spotted.

“Ben, did the bee sting you? Where are your parents?” I blurted out quite concerned.

“The bee died, and I am still here. Why did the bee die?” He asked in mellow tone. Then I thought back to his question. I honestly couldn’t answer him. Ben’s way of wording the question had struck a chord in my throat. He had asked me about one individual bee, which meant one bee of many bees mattered to him. The sincerity of his mannerisms suggested to me that, at that very moment in time, every individual bee, meant something significant to this child. If that was the case, was he also able to connect deeply with every other living creature on this planet? I didn’t know Ben at all, but I knew he wasn’t up for a science101 lesson explaining how the barb eventually stops the bee’s heart. He knew all that already. No, instead, a boy, whom I had only just met, stood before me demanding answers to one of life’s philosophical questions.

I was so deep in thought, that I came to realise that now I was also staring at shoes. His shoes. I suddenly thought of an answer and my eyes met Ben’s gaze, which were still fixated on my shoes.

“Ben, they are Earth warriors. The bees fight to keep their Queen alive, as without their Queen they cannot create more life.” This was my five second thought to his endless life question.

“But if the Queen needs her bees alive for her own survival, why do they die?” Ben asked again. His frustration became more evident as his stutter had completely disappeared. I sat deep in thought again. Ben wanted another philosophical explanation, and the more I thought about it, the more I knew I couldn’t give him one answer. I had three forming and from experience, you should never give a child multiple answers to one question. This child, however, was unique, some would say perhaps on the spectrum. I personally would say extremely gifted. Not only could he see through the bee’s fundamental issues, but he was also capable and willing to approach a complete stranger to express his issues and concerns. If this child was capable of zoning in on something so tiny and being able to see the cracks and flaws in that system, then this child could be capable of seeing through the cracks of society. Seeing is one thing but talking about what is being seen, well that’s a whole other level. In the first three minutes of my conversation with Ben, I had already learnt so much from this young boy. Just before I could properly answer his question, Ben’s father approached us out of thin air, and quickly whisked him away apologetically. He was muttering in embarrassment that his child has ASD, as if it were an excuse for his child’s behaviour. If Ben’s father sat with us and allowed us to finish the conversation, I wouldn’t have had to endure Ben screaming and crying as his dad dragged his son away.

“Why did the bee die?!” Ben continued to scream on repeat in hysterics. I watched Ben’s Dad forcibly attempt to shove his son in the car, and then I had a thought, an answer. Right then are there I left my phone, keys and notebook behind on the rug, and I chased down Ben’s car before it took off down the street. Ben’s father stopped in the middle of the road, bewildered and I could see he didn’t want a bar of me.

“I have an answer for Ben”, I said, out of breath. Ben was excited and Ben’s Dad pulled over. We walked back to where I was sitting before, to where I could see the ducks and the water. In the time it took us to walk over the rug, I learnt that Ben’s dad was David, and he wasn’t ashamed of his son. He was very aware of the space Ben takes up and didn’t want to disturb the peace with others. I appreciated this feedback as it reassured my own thoughts.

“So here it is. Ben, this is my answer for you. I finally understand why dying in battle to keep the Queen Bee alive is relevant. If there is no Queen Bee, there is no bee colony. All of the bees will die…”, I started my monologue. I noticed Ben was making eye contact with me. He was more than just interested; he was absorbing my every word. “…One bee put its life on the line to save the whole colony. The bee gave his life to keep the colony alive. I know it’s not the answer you want hear. I know that you really just want to know why the barb is the mechanism for both the survival and defence of the bee. In my eyes Ben, you and Queen Bee have very similar roles in this life. The Queen keeps the colony alive and without you Ben I personally wouldn’t be feeling so thoughtful right now. You aren’t responsible for keeping us alive, but you are capable of waking us up as a society. You are the very thing we need in order to strive and survive. Without you Ben, and people like you, we would be lost in normal everyday routines. We would be lost in our own thoughts without the necessary disturbances. Without the Ben’s of the world, we would only be breathing and not truly experiencing life. We, as a society should not be ashamed of you and what you bring to the table. We need people like you to teach us how to connect with one another again. I need to thank you for approaching me today. Thank you for asking the questions that I needed to hear so I could see with my eyes wide open again.”, I explained. Ben looked at me with an expression that I could only read as “you see me,” or “I feel heard.” David looked at me as if he was still processing what I had said but had tears forming. After that, I once again left my things at that special place, and I walked them back to their car. Ben ran ahead chasing a butterfly and it gave David and I some time to talk.

“I want to thank you…”, David started as he shifted awkwardly, “… It’s just that I am so used to people shoving Ben to the side. You made me realise that there is more to it and that it is okay.”, David teared up and smiled at me.

“David, I don’t see these children as incapable. In fact, they are here to teach anyone who listens, new things every day. People like Ben have beautiful unique minds and if people could take the time to get to know a few of these people, I promise you that those people will be able to see more depth and clarity in themselves. We need to stop seeing the children who have a diagnosis as the ones who are incapable. They see so much more than you may realise. It is what they see that perhaps scares the ordinary and throws the ordinary off balance. The society might have the fundamentals of a building, but we need people like Ben who can spot the termites causing the cracks in the system. We need people like Ben who ask the right questions. The only way we can learn to accept the Ben’s in our world is have warriors who will fight for them and have their stories told...”, I said calmly. “… and that is exactly what I am going to do. I will share this story and become one of those bee warriors.

I watched Ben and his dad drive away for the second time. I waved goodbye as Ben waved with a smile, sticking his head out of their silver sedan BMW before drove around the corner and out of sight. I walked back to the spot where the three of us once sat, and I felt an unfamiliar wave of relief and tranquillity rush through me. I tried to think of how to overcome the challenges that I felt were no longer important. I closed the open notebook and I just sat there. I had no words for what I had experienced; I had no thoughts of stress or worry about work. I just sat there, up until the sun started to shine over the lake as it set. I met Ben today for two purposes, one is obvious, to share his story, but two to learn how to let go of the stress and worry, to be able to step back and observe light from a new angle. So even though my day did start off pleasant, and ended off somewhat pleasant.... It was disturbed by a thought provoking event that changed my view on the world around me. To all the Ben’s out there, I hear you, I see you. This story was never about me; it was about Ben and his bee.