The piano 

 August 9, 2021

N. sent her a message but she didn't answer. 

Until she did. 

"So you really exist!", he wrote back. 

"There is anecdotal evidence for that", she answered. 

N. is a musician. He sang like Marvin Gaye for her in his messages, and because his voice touched her heart, she wrote a poem for him: 

The Piano

I‘ll write your favorite poem
He said
And the piano became still

Parallel lines
How deep can they get?

Can you keep a secret
He asked
And the piano cried

Parallel lives
How close can they be?

I don’t know if I exist
She answered

And the piano trembled

“Once upon a time, I dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was myself. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.”

Long ago she was fascinated by Zhuangzi's butterfly metaphor. 

Then she understood that it is never either or but always both. 

She is a woman dreaming of being a butterfly and a butterfly draming of being a woman. 

She's dreaming and she's awake. 

Nonduality, that is. 

Photo by canva