Flies, Flies, & More Flies

In the spring of 2012, we were inundated with houseflies and  did a post about the possible esoteric meaning.

In the 15 months or so since that post went up, our statistics counter has recorded dozens of queries from individuals who end up at our blog because they Googled “paranormal meaning of flies” or esoteric meaning of flies” or “what do all these flies in my house mean?”

In our original post, we provided a couple of esoteric meaning of houseflies. The Biblical interpretations tend toward looking at flies as satanic. But from an animal totems dictionary, the verdict was much more positive:

The Fly teaches the ability to greatly multiply prosperity, endeavors and ventures at enormous rates. He shows how to be quick to act and respond to achieve results. Fly aids in demonstrating the power of keen eyesight along with expanding awareness in many directions. Although flies are known for carrying diseases in unfavorable surroundings, the lesson of fly is in the value of carrying your emotions, thoughts and feelings in order to act quickly in sometimes unfavorable or uncomfortable conditions. It takes about two weeks from hatching for new eggs to be laid, likewise, two weeks is significant in one’s personal development. Are you ready for quick and abrupt changes? Are you ready to move quickly? Fly will show how to make quick changes for rapid growth.

In retrospect, I’m not so sure the two-week time frame offered by this definition was accurate for us. Looking back, we posted the paranormal houseflies piece on April 23, 2012. Not much happened in the two weeks that followed. But on June 11, 2012, about six weeks later, when we were staying at our agent’s home in the Florida keys, we connected with David Wilson at Crossroad Press. His company has since brought out a number of our back list titles into ebooks. Crossroad also published Aliens in the Backyard: UFO Encounters, Abductions, & Synchronicity, our first original book with them.

Shortly before we left for our week in the keys this June, we were inundated with flies again. These flies were quick, restless, darting about with aerial efficiency, especially when I stood in the middle of the kitchen, fly swatter poised and ready. In the Keys, I remarked to Rob about the absence of flies – and within an hour, found them everywhere in our agent’s house. They flew in through the open kitchen window, congregated on the porch outside the only air-conditioned room in the house, made lazy flights over our table out by the water, and cruised through the deck area where we played ping-pong.

The flies on Sugarloaf were larger than the flies we’d found in our kitchen at home, struck through with a luminous blue, almost like horseflies, but smaller than those stinging mini-beasts. The flies in the keys were languid, relaxed, just as we were; the flies at home were impatient, focused, intense, just as we tend to be when we’re working. Is it possible that flies, as messengers, are reflections where we are in the moment? 

I realize how ridiculous this sounds. I mean, we’re talking about flies, right? But if we look at birds as messengers, if we look at rodents, dolphins, and other mammals as messengers, why not flies?

Our blogging friend Daz  has done a series of posts on animals as messengers, taken from the book Animal Dreaming, and that’s what got me thinking about these pesky flies. In one post, he talks about sea dragons, which sound like mythological beasts but are actually small, delicate sea creatures that resemble dragons. He has a fascinating You Tube video on that post that shows these little creatures.

Shortly after I’d made that remark  to Rob about the absence of flies on Sugarloaf, I ducked into the air-condition room to cool off – and found a dozen flies inside the room, against the glass door, behind the transparent curtains. When I parted the curtain and peered out on the porch, I shuddered and thought, Ok, this is the beginning of a horror novel.

Dozens of these bluish black Sugarloaf flies were having a love fest on the balcony, crawling slowly all over each other on the porch floor, the screens, the wooden beams, the outside of the sliding glass doors, all of them gravitating toward the cold air that undoubtedly seeped out beneath the sliders. We were like those flies, Rob and Me and Megan and her friends, lounging around, enjoying ourselves, and ducking frequently into the air conditioned room for a reprieve from the intense heat.

That evening we ate dinner on the back porch of a place called Mangrove Mama’s. As soon as the food was brought out, these same flies descended in droves. They swarmed, but slowly, taking their time. We waved them away, Nika and Noah snapped at them, the night’s musician, a guy from Nashville, seemed to serenade them, other guests swatted at them and quickly covered their food with napkins.

I kept thinking of Jeff Goldblum in the 1986 remake of the film The Fly, directed by David Cronenberg, and figured I can’t top that in a novel. So the least I could do is connect the dots on the esoteric meaning beyond what we provided in April 2012 and I came up with flies as a reflection of a current state of mind.

Rob thinks it’s all a big stretch and that I’m crazy to be writing about flies. Maybe he’s right. If so, Statcounter tells me I’ve got plenty of company in my delusions! In fact, as I’m writing this, there’s a fly zipping around my office, one of those restless, focused suckers who seems to be shouting, Ha-ha, you silly. Swat me if you can.