The Fly and the Poof

It’s a crisp Autumn day. Cool enough for a sweater. Warm enough for open windows, which is precisely how my living room is outfitted. The door to the back patio is also open, as are the windows in the kitchen. The smell of freshly-cut grass glides in on the crisp Fall breeze. Secretly, I invite a colorful leaf to flutter in. It’s exactly what I would expect to come in and augment this tranquil scene.

What I do not expect is a gigantic house fly, which is what does invade my living room of tranquility.

This bastard jets in, diving toward my head, circling around me like I’m some sort of air traffic control tower. The directions I am giving to the noncompliant beast in the pattern are pretty clear and they are, “Get. Out.” 

He appears to want to get out as much as I want him to get out, because from the moment he invites himself into my living room, his flight path is erratic.

His trans-living-room flight is interrupted by ... a wall, which he crashes into, stunning himself. Serves him right. This was literally a no-fly zone until his rude interruption. 

I watch him fly around the living room, buzzing into one wall, then another, then the ceiling, then into the lamp shade, the TV and yet another wall. I know this makes it seem like I have a huge living room. I do not.

This fly is just so frantic that he covers a lot of area in a short flight. I feel helpless because the fly and I want the same thing - his departure - but chasing him and trying to shoo him out with a newspaper seems like it would send mixed messages especially because I read the newspaper on my iPad. 

I sit idly on my couch, watching the fly’s airshow. The only win-win outcome I can hope for is that the fly will depart the area via one of the several openings to the outside.

While waiting for that to happen, my peripheral vision picks up graceful movements near the open window. 

A dainty dandelion poof gently hugs the Autumn breeze, riding it in through the window, coasting into my living room.

I watch as the poof floats effortlessly through the room. The poof catches the cross breeze from the patio door opening, allowing itself to be quietly coaxed in a different direction. Hypnotically, the many mini jet streams propel and nudge the poof, its calm soar mesmerizing. The relaxed vibe of the poof radiates toward me, stopping time long enough for me to breath deeply, align my Chaka Khan, salute the sun and stare downwardly at my dog. 

Soon, the dandelion poof slips the surly bonds of my living room, joining the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds outside my home.

I look back at the still-chaotic flight path of the damn fly, still banging into walls, still unable to find his way out — outwitted by the brainless poof of a WEED. 

I sit back on my couch. 

I think, “Wow, I have a lot of spare time.”

Honestly, in a day and age when my attention span is sourced from a shrinking stockpile, I’m impressed at the sustainability of my focus. 

I know I’ve logged time as that fly. Frantically buzzing around in situations, trying to navigate in a new environment, banging my head against walls and ceilings (and lamp shades and TVs). Those times leave me feeling unprepared or anxious; anxiety usually a result of being unprepared. It’s the times I fail to stop, ask for, or get help. 

But there have been times I’m able to get a break, catch my breath and float on the currents of life like the poof of a dandelion, without a care in the world. Those are the moments that bring me respite for any future frantic flights. Taking the time to just drift on the current for a moment helps me regroup. I have to let life gently coax and nudge me one way or another until I find myself on the jet stream to guide me on laughter-silvered wings to my next success. 

There is time to be like the fly, but taking on the personality of a poof allows us to be present in the now, hyper-sensitive to the world around us. Concentrating our energy on the task at hand allows us to act deliberately, not reactively.

Methodical focus during the planning phase equips us to handle future pop up issues more effectively … and quickly.

The poof may be the brainless wing of a weed, but we’d fly onto our next success faster if we took the time to float first.