It’s Just a Fly
Or is it?
(This post was originally published on Adventures of an Ungifted Psychic, pameladellpalmer.substack.com, on May 4, 2026)
I had a fly in my apartment yesterday. The doors and windows were closed, so it appeared to arrive out of nowhere.
And while I’d love to think there’s a portal to another dimension in my apartment, and they’re getting in that way – because this has happened before — I suspect that they’re coming in through the HVAC closet, which has an open vent in it.
Anyway, I opened the door to the balcony for awhile, as it buzzed around my living room, but it never found its way out. They almost never do.
Once upon a time, I would have owned a fly swatter and likely spent the next half hour trying to outsmart him into staying still long enough for me to get him.
These days, I’m far too aware that there is only one consciousness having infinite experiences – whether as me, my neighbor, or as that fly. So I prefer not to kill things.
Except mosquitos. Mosquitos do not get a pass, but flies don’t bother me much these days.
What I’ve learned about flies is that they sleep at night (or at least don’t buzz around), and are generally dead within a day or two.
So instead of seeing them as a menace that must be destroyed, I’ve chosen to look at them as visitors who come to spend a bit of time with me before they transition back to the non-physical.
When I got up this morning, I heard the fly buzzing around the living room, then I got in the shower and forgot about it. An hour later, I headed into my office to write.
Lying on its back, on the floor beside my desk chair, was the fly.
I assumed it was dead, and briefly considered picking it up with a tissue, and throwing it in the trash, but then I had another thought. Or an inspiration.
What if it wasn’t dead, yet? What if, instead, it was in the process of dying?
The thought triggered genuine compassion within me for this creature, because no one wants to die alone.
“I’ll sit here with you, as you go,” I told the fly.
Suddenly I was awash with full body chills and a vibration so high that it took my breath away.
It was one of the most powerful experiences of love that I’ve ever felt, but this was not me loving. This was me being loved.
Loved by a fly? you might ask.
Not precisely.
I think, perhaps, that by opening my heart to something that most would consider unlovable – something that, in the past, I would have considered an insignificant pest — I opened to the source of all love. To the infinite source of all.
I’ve heard it said that when we resist anything, we resist everything. What I think this means is, when we resist/reject/dislike/judge/hate — anyone or anything, for any reason — we are closing that flow of infinite love that is our birthright.
For a few moments this morning, I opened to that infinite flow. Because of a fly.
And it was one of the most surprisingly wonderful experiences I’ve ever had.