The Fly in the Room of the Divine

The Fly in the Room of the Divine

by Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

Funny how a tiny thing like a fly can steal the whole show. I mean, you could be sittin' in the quietest room, mindin' your breath, maybe tryin' to talk to the Creator in the stillness, and then here comes this little buzzin' creature like it owns the place. Ain't it wild? Most of us try to get rid of it, like it's some kind of pest. But what if we’re wrong? What if that little intruder is carryin' a whisper from the divine?

See, the Creator doesn’t always roll through in thunderclaps or burning bushes. Sometimes, it’s that barely-there sound in the air a fly's wings humming a lesson we didn’t know we needed. This ain’t just a story about a fly; it’s about how even the smallest moments, the ones we tend to brush off, can hold something sacred if we dare to pay attention.

Here's A Parable

Down in the 7th Ward, tucked behind a weathered white shotgun house with peeling blue shutters, lived a man they called Uncle Peewee. Now, Uncle Peewee was the kind of elder who didn’t need to say much just one glance from him could quiet a whole room. But when he did speak, baby, you knew to lean in and catch every syllable.

One steamy afternoon, when the air was thick like molasses, little Taye come stormin' up Uncle Peewee's porch, swattin' the air like he was chasin' ghosts.

"Unc, this dang fly won't let me be! I’m tryna think, and it’s just circlin' me like I owe it money!"

Uncle Peewee chuckled low, the kind of laugh that sounds like it's been through a few storms. He looked over his glasses, eyes twinklin'.

"Boy," he said slow, "you ever stop to wonder why outta all the air in the world, that fly chose you to dance around?"

Taye scrunched his face, clearly not in the mood for riddles. "It’s just a fly, Unc. Just tryna annoy me."

Uncle Peewee rocked back, let that old chair creak like it was part of the conversation. "Mmhmm. That’s where you missin' it. Sometimes, it ain't about bein' bothered. It's about bein' noticed. The smallest thing a fly, a feather, a breeze through the curtain might just be the universe tappin' on your shoulder sayin', 'Hey... slow down. Look closer.'"

He motioned to the fly that had settled calmly on his cane, like it belonged there. "That little thing right there? That’s patience with wings. That’s the Creator showin' up uninvited, sittin' in your space, seein' if you gon' pay attention or just swat at the message."

Taye blinked, his frustration softenin' like butter in the sun.

"See," Peewee went on, voice warm like fresh beignets, "life don’t always scream at you. Sometimes it buzzes. Persistent. Annoyin'. Quietly divine. That fly just tryna teach you how to stay present how to be in the room, not just passin' through it."

And just like that, Uncle Peewee didn’t wave the fly away. He let it be. Sipped his coffee. Kept rockin'. As if he was sharein' space with something holy.

Closing Word:

The fly’s buzz might be pesky, but its lesson? Oh, it’s powerful. It reminds us that sacredness ain’t always wrapped in gold or carried by choirs. Sometimes, it's tiny. Unexpected. Maybe even annoying. But it pulls your attention right where it needs to be.

So the next time a fly shows up, don’t be so quick to kill the moment. Take a beat. Ask yourself what message am I missin'? What if this little thing is a mirror, showin' me how distracted I’ve become?

The divine doesn’t always shout. Sometimes it hums, soft and steady, in the wings of a fly. And if you listen close, real close, you just might hear heaven buzzin' at your ear.