Gavin Liu, G11, BASIS International School Shenzhen

A field trip to an apiary nestled on the outskirts of our city changed my perspective. As we arrived, the air filled with a sweet, floral aroma, beckoning us towards the bustling hives. The beekeeper, a figure of wisdom and experience, greeted us with a warm smile, his weathered hands cradling a hive tool. That was where I tasted the most delicious honey in the world. The honey was so fresh we could actually bite the honeycomb with juicy, dark golden honey dripping out. The beekeeper took us around the farm, showing us different types of bees, different tools for raising bees, and where they lived.

We wore bulky hats and a mask for protection against the bees and covered our entire body with clothes, leaving no skin exposed. The weight of the hats and masks served as a tangible reminder of the respect we held for these buzzing artisans. The beekeeper gently removed a honeycomb from a wooden box and rested it on a table. In one fluid motion, he delicately scraped the surface of the honeycomb, revealing the glistening treasure hidden within. After pouring it into a jar, “there you go,” he said, holding up the jar of honey, turning his body, and pointing the jar towards the sun. The sunlight reflected off the golden honey, gleaming like a glowing light bulb in the air. When he was done showing us everything, he took a handful of sugar and sprayed it onto the beehive.

“Why do you have to add sugar to the beehive?” I asked.

“Bees rely on honey to survive,” he said. “When I took away the honey, they needed sugar as food, or else they would end up starving.”

It was shocking news to me. The honeybees’ hardworking spirit was for their own survival. After all, they are not that different from ants. They both have to focus on their own survival.

“Gavin, focus!” my teacher’s voice brought me back to reality. I looked at the PowerPoint projected on the whiteboard. It displayed a classical Venn diagram, which contains two circles on each side, comparing “beneficial insects” with “injurious insects.”

What is good and evil? I asked myself. Like bees and ants, what all insects do is for their survival. How can we judge whether it is beneficial or injurious?

The teacher began to fill in the Venn diagram. I walked out of that class feeling confused. I began to understand that “good” and “evil” are concepts driven by our human desires and defined by our limited perspectives.

Bees are good insects only from our perspective because they provide us with honey. However, if we look at ants and bees from nature’s perspective, they are the same. Humans are selfishly endowed and give the world meanings based on their own perspectives.

That day’s biology lesson was eye-opening. I stopped drawing conclusions about someone or something based on my first impression. I ventured forth, trying to think from multiple perspectives. Nature, in all its enigmatic glory, is beyond our comprehension, forever whispering secrets that remain beyond our reach. I will plunge into the depths of perception, immersing myself in narratives and stories, where the convergence of diverse voices illuminates the elusive path to the sacred threshold of truth.