What Bees Teach Us About Business: on rhythm, purpose, and the power of a beginner’s mind
There’s something about beginnings.
As a business owner, I often felt the pressure to already know—to figure it out, fast. Whether it was building a coffee program or shaping a team, I dove into research, practiced obsessively, and did the work. I remember steaming pitcher after pitcher of milk just to get the texture right. There was so much to learn, but this part felt especially important to me: creating the standards and the kind of coffee culture I aspired to offer our customers.
In doing so, I felt like I should just know it all already. Even though I read, learned, and had a mentor, I’m not sure I ever really gave myself permission to be a true beginner. I just jumped in—with my love for coffee and hosting a good party—and figured much of it out on the fly.
Because there was work to do. Expectations to meet. A business to run. I didn’t always allow myself to be a beginner.
I felt like I needed to be on top of it all—capable, informed, in control. There wasn’t room (or so I thought) for uncertainty, for getting it wrong.
Some businesses are built on years of practiced skill or formal training. But many begin with a leap—an idea, a passion, a hope—and the willingness to figure it out along the way. Suddenly, you're navigating hiring, payroll, insurance, marketing, customer service, and a hundred unfamiliar tasks, often all at once.
It’s easy to slip into urgency, to feel like you should already know. But what if not knowing is exactly where the strength is?
What if beginning—truly beginning—is what allows us to stay open, observant, and adaptable?
What I’ve learned since then—through many cups of coffee, through building, operating, and eventually selling a small business I co-owned, and lately, through beekeeping—is that mastery doesn’t come from knowing everything. It doesn’t come from pushing through or checking boxes. Instead, it comes from learning to navigate relationships—both business and personal—and embracing change, uncertainty, and the unexpected.
Mastery begins with humility. With curiosity. With a beginner’s mind.
And that’s exactly what the bees reminded me.
Stepping into beekeeping was like stepping into a whole new world of learning—one that quietly mirrored many of the challenges and joys I’ve faced as a business owner. Watching the hive hum with purpose, I began to see clear parallels between the way bees work and the way businesses thrive.
The bees don’t rush. They don’t force outcomes. Instead, they plan carefully, communicate constantly, adapt quickly, and stay deeply aware of their environment. These qualities—so simple yet so powerful—reminded me of what sustainable, mindful business really looks like.
Here are some of the most important lessons the bees have taught me about running a business with intention and heart:
1. Plan with the seasons in mind.
Bees don’t overbuild or over harvest—they prepare according to what’s ahead. They trust the rhythm of the year.
→ In business, this reminds us to plan thoughtfully, to leave space, and to align effort with timing—not urgency.
2. Communicate constantly—and clearly.
Bees use movement, scent, and vibration to keep the whole hive informed. Every shift is shared.
→ For a team to function (or a solo business to grow), communication has to be honest, clear, consistent, and intentional.
3. Adapt when the world changes.
If a nectar source dries up, the bees pivot. If they lose a queen, they raise a new one. No drama—just response.
→ I’ve learned that resilience in business doesn’t mean holding your ground at all costs—it means knowing when and how to shift.
4. Know your environment.
Bees take cues from sunlight, bloom cycles, temperature, even wind. Their success depends on paying attention.
→ This reminds us to stay aware—not just of trends or competition, but of your own energy, your team’s needs, and the real conditions you’re working within. This reminds us to be mindful of what is actually happening, not just what we hoped would happen.
5. Trust the roles.
Each bee has a job, and the hive flows because they’re not all trying to do everything.
→ Letting go of control, delegating, and trusting others to carry part of the work is what allows space for growth. We don’t have to do everything ourselves.
6. Don’t rush the honey.
Bees take their time. The honey comes because of patience, not pressure.
→ Business doesn't need to be fast to be meaningful. Sometimes the most sustainable growth is the slowest.
And now, here I am—at another beginning.
With Keep Light Consulting, my intention is to support others by drawing from the full breadth of my experience.
I’ve spent years behind the counter and behind the scenes—balancing service and systems, leading a team, building a brand, and navigating the daily realities of small business ownership. I’ve written training manuals, developed menus, answered countless customer questions, and faced the weight of burnout. I’ve co-owned, operated, and eventually sold a business I helped build from the ground up.
And in the process, I’ve learned how much clarity, care, and thoughtful structure can change everything.
That’s why I’m here—to help others build businesses that feel sustainable, aligned, and deeply rooted in what matters.
The bees remind me that strength doesn’t come from knowing it all.
It comes from knowing it’s okay to ask questions.
To not be the expert.
To be curious.
To begin.
I’m still learning, constantly. Beekeeping has brought more surprises than I expected—like the time the queen disappeared and I panicked, thinking the hive might collapse. But the bees were already handling it. They had started raising a new queen before I even knew what was happening.
It reminded me again: a beginner’s mind doesn’t mean unprepared. It means present, observant, humble. Open to what you don’t yet know—and to the idea that maybe everything’s not yours to control.
There’s a Buddhist teaching I come back to often:
“A mind that is full cannot take in anything new.”
I love that. Because there is still so much to learn.
And so much we can build—when we keep a little space, a little light, and a beginner’s mind.