Entering the sacred realm of the bees with honey bee therapy
LOS ANGELES -- Marvin Jordana laid a hand on the beehive in his backyard and said a silent prayer.
After a few moments, he spoke: "I ask for their permission to enter the hive, because this is their body. With so much respect and humility, I ask them."
Four people dressed in full bee suits, closed-toed shoes and thick rubber gloves looked on reverentially, ignoring the dozens of bees buzzing lazily around their heads.
Jordana wore just a veil over his head, leaving his arms and hands bare.
He pulled out a small metal tool that looked like a flat wrench and cracked open the top of the hive. The bees had glued it down from the underside with propolis — a sticky substance they create with tree resin.
Jordana exudes calm, but now he slowed his movements even more.
Gently he lifted the lid.
And so began a journey into the sacred realm of the bees, a two-hour workshop led by Jordana, a 50-year-old beekeeper, deejay, yoga instructor and single father to his 21-year-old son.
He spends most of his days tending eight apiaries around Los Angeles, but he doesn't sell honey. Instead, he supports his bee veneration by sharing his devotion in the $40 workshops. He calls the
