Sugar Water for Tired Lives

I’ve been trying to spend more time grounded.

Noticing what’s right in front of me.

In plain sight.

For me, that has included a few small things. A person who needs extra support but would never ask for it. A long series of conversations that could have faded, but somehow keep building and redirecting, almost organically. And, recently, a bumblebee exhausted on a path.

After writing How to try to save a tired life, a bumblebee’s life in this case, I received a number of personal notes. Thank you. People shared their own experiences of saving bees, or their longing for a human equivalent of sugar water, or for more bee friendly gardens in their lives and workplaces.

You inspired me. So I thought I’d write a short follow up.

How natural it is to want a universal fix for tired lives. Tired lives that are still performing.

What is the equivalent of sugar water for people?

And why is it so hard to know what that is?

I don’t know. But maybe (?) partly because nourishment is deeply personal. What helps one nervous system can feel neutral, irritating, or even unsafe to another. Even well‑meaning universal fixes — mindfulness, positive reframing, rest — do not land the same way for everyone, or in every context. Maybe because we’re too tired, lacking in space, too busy, to really ask ourselves the questions. Maybe because the risk of not getting good answers is pretty scary.

Universal solutions may sometimes fail because they overlook individual nervous systems, context, and living experience.

So what if we made the question a little gentler.

What do you already know about what nourishes you?

Your sugar water.

Or your bee friendly garden.

And who, in your life, might sometimes be that person who notices — someone willing to pause, stay, and offer a few drops when another is running low?

As I reflected on this myself, here are some of mine.

Sometimes nourishment is relational.
Feedback from you.
The resonance of mirror neurons, sharing the excitement of another’s development or achievement.
Deep conversations, and the privilege of companioning others into intimate, needed spaces.
Being in the company of someone who truly sees me.
Holidays, shared activities, unstructured sofa chats.
Being part of my children’s lives.

Sometimes it is intellectual or creative.
A great book.
Researching, diving deep, following rabbit holes, imagining possibilities.
The moment a drawing suddenly feels right and begins to take shape.
Far reaching conversations with similar (and different) minds.

Sometimes it is embodied, or a little wild.
A deep breath or two — or simply whatever breath I can manage in the moment.
A wide, open expanse.
Saving a bee.
Time with animals.
A warm, nourishing meal.
Swimming with whales.

And of course, there is so much more than I have named here.
Many things that are central for others.

Making or listening to music.
Laughing with friends.
Creative expression in many forms.
Hitting an ambitious target.
True teamwork, in the zone.
Improving a golf handicap.
A massage.
Walking on the beach.
Adrenaline sports.
Recognition and achievement.
Improving skills in something that matters to you.

And then there is the wider question of the garden itself

In our personal lives, or if you are a leader in an organisation, what are the bee friendly flowers you have planted? What creates places to land, moments of protection, and ongoing nourishment, so that rescue is not always required?

This might include acknowledging the simple things you are already doing. Pausing the urge for rightness and certainty and choosing curiosity instead. A smile and hello when someone arrives. Remembering something important and following up. Taking the harder road of seeing what might be easier to look away from. Contributing to a bigger vision, even when there is little immediate personal reward.

A bee‑friendly garden is not only something we create for ourselves. It’s something we co‑create in families, teams, organisations, and communities, through the small, repeatable ways we make it a healthier place for thriving.

Every moment holds possibility. And if we can find even a little more internal resource and steadiness, we may be able to meet those moments differently — and gently expand what is possible there.

The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now. (Chinese Proverb)

Thanks for reading.

If it’s helpful:
I’ve also created a complimentary short, optional two‑page PDF you can download as a companion to this piece. It offers a gentle way to recognise what kind of tired or stressed you might be in, and a few ideas for “sugar water” moments that support the nervous system, without needing to do anything properly.

Thanks for reading! If you liked this, a personal message to me or a like or comment on my Substack post would be much appreciated. Thank you.