Do you remember that old children’s song? “There was an old lady who swallowed a fly. I don’t know why she swallowed a fly. I guess she’ll die.”

The basic supposition — that this unfortunate ingestion will be fatal — is pretty silly. Maybe it’s a little icky, maybe she’ll feel queasy, but c’mon nobody’s gonna die.

Nevertheless, each verse of the song has the old lady swallowing larger and larger animals to catch the ones before — a spider, a bird, a cat, etc… on up to a horse. At which point, the song concludes, “She died, of course.”

It reminds me of my own tendency to react and overcompensate and unintentionally escalate.

Things happen, many things, every day.  Most of them, I don’t really know why they happen — be it chaos, coincidence, or karma.   I swallowed a fly, and found an excellent parking space, and had an ugly exchange with an online troll, and saw a rainbow.   The vast majority of it, good and bad, doesn’t have to be that big of a deal. But because we’re natural meaning-makers and pattern-seekers, we tend to connect these little things, without even thinking about it, to all the other little and big things that have happened throughout a lifetime of things happening.  We add our own energy and drama and psychology to the mix, and before we know it, we find ourselves swallowing a horse.

In the 45 minutes that I’m on hold waiting to talk to customer service about an error on my cell phone bill, I can whip myself into such a frenzy of frustrations and ultimatums I’m ready to liquidate everything and leave the country by the time someone finally answers. I think we all do this.

Sometimes we do it because most of us are more or less hooked on a paradigm of “something’s wrong.”  We’re always on the lookout for something that needs doing, fixing, changing, or healing, because once we find that and deal with it, then maybe we’ll experience contentment.   

Other times we do it, unconsciously of course, because the drama itself is gripping.  It simply feels more interesting.  Life feels more alive — more exciting and engaging — when a potential crisis is brewing. 

I don’t mean to be glib about this. It’s trauma. We’re all traumatized in one way or another. And we escalate because we really, really, really don’t want to be hurt again. We long for stability and control. We’re doing our best with the tools and resources we have to work with.

We also do it with positive things, stuff we’re enthusiastic about.  It’s sort of the flip-side, the double-edge, of recognizing that it’s all connected — that we’re all connected, that Life Itself is one big organism of which we’re essential parts.

I am really good at inflating any project, idea, or plan into something that demands constant attention, time, and energy to keep afloat. And the more exhausting I make it, the more important and meaningful it feels. And if I can stir others up in it, voila: Now we’re cooking with connection and community!

Of course, connection and community are awesome, including all the ways we find it and create it. But even in these worthy undertakings of togetherness, our shared endeavors and collective concerns, we need to keep things in perspective. Even if our escalation is in the name of relatedness and care for others. Even if our radiating enthusiasm is because we’re truly, deeply inspired. Even if our amplification is aimed at transforming and healing the whole, blooming world. We’ve still got to maintain our peace at the center of it all.

Otherwise, we are likely to find ourselves biting off way more than we bargained for, and snowballing into catastrophe.

I don’t know why I swallowed that fly, why that person cut me off in traffic, or why apples and peanut butter taste so great together. I don’t know why bad things happen to good people, why some folks are born with perfect pitch, or why I lucked out and met the love of my life in Albuquerque of all places.

Maybe every thing is a miracle. Maybe things just happen sometimes. Either way, it’s up to me to right-size it, and right-now it, and right-here it.

Here and now, if all I need to handle is this and only this, that’s almost always pretty manageable. Here and now, if all there ever really is to do is love as best we can, we can do that. A fly is always just a fly until we turn it into the inciting incident of the rest of our lives.

Hafiz wrote:
This sky where we live
Is no place to lose your wings.
So love, love,
Love.

I can’t wait to be with you this Sunday, October 25, at 10:00am, at q-Staff Theater. With the divine Patty Stephens. XO, Drew

©2026 Drew Groves