A Fly in the Fridge

There's a fly in the fridge as I write this. For Pete's sake, I was just going to get some milk. And the stupid thing flies in looking for the light in the fridge. I can't get it to come out. When it finally leaves the light, it goes to the back wall of the fridge. For all I know it's still there, freezing to death. I feel sorry for the poor thing. I suppose when I studied Jainism in high school, that whole ahimsa thing rubbed off on me. I'm going to go check on the fridge right now. Maybe the fly's realized what's going on.

And yes, I do realize the number of philosophical questions being asked with regard to the fly's consciousness and thought process (or lack thereof) but that is beside the point. Also I realize that flies, given their limitations, cannot really be "stupid." Anyway, checking...Okay, I'm unsure of what just happened there. I opened the door and there was a fly, but I couldn't tell for sure if it was the same one, or if it had flown towards me from some other angle. I'd like to note the irony of my mention of Jainism when coupled with the fact that I was swatting the fly in an effort to keep it from reentering the fridge. So much for ahimsa...or...

Hmm. If I ever meet a Jain, I will ask them if they have any idea which is the greater good: swat at the fly to keep it away from the fridge, or refuse the swat and let it die anyway. In case the link for Jainism doesn't give you an idea, this "ahimsa" principle I keep talking about basically says you should go out of your way to avoid harming any living thing, including the smallest bugs.

I wonder if there is any sort of Christian object lesson to be got out of this. Suppose the fly is us, attracted by sin (the light in the fridge) when in reality the darkness outside of the fridge is safer, and Someone is trying to show us this way (as I tried to induce the fly to come out by shutting off the light in the fridge.) Of course a perfect being such as God, trying to show us the way, would probably have though to turn the fridge light off and increase the light outside--whatever the theological equivalent of this path would be, it's not looking like it would be especially fun to describe. And the metaphor is incomplete in another way: said perfect being, being all-loving, would not as I did after about two-to-five minutes give up and leave the fly to freeze, and return later to (hopefully; I certainly hope I've freed the fly) free the fly.

The complete metaphor (I'm thinking the better word is, really, analogy, so I'll go with that): The better analogy would be the following. The fly (this means us) is attracted to the light in the fridge, even given its flickering nature, and the light on the outside does not attract it. Someone (this means God) is outside the fridge, trying to convince the fly somehow to leave the light and come outside. But until the fly decides to leave it is trapped inside, freezing. Of course an even more complete analogy would involve many more flies; I do not see the need.

I am almost disturbed how bad I feel about the fly. Oftentimes news that humans -really- are dead doesn't disturbe me so much, and here I am wondering about flies. In a sense I know it's just one of those things that happens when you're human. At any rate, I suppose I'll know with some vague certainty whether I "killed" the fly or not depending upon if or when a dead fly is found in the fridge. Hopefully not in the refried beans or the salad.

That is all for tonight. Goodnight (or I suppose good morning), and God bless.