Once there was a woman who wasn’t really a woman at all.

She just thought she was.


She was more like this space.

A room without boundaries where things happened.

As this space…

She noticed a woman who was like her avatar in a video game or the protagonist of a book. She could see through this woman’s eyes, breathe air through her lungs, touch things with her hands.

It seemed a lot like she was this woman. 

Except that she wasn’t.

As this space…

She noticed other men and women. She noticed children and animals. She noticed trees and plants and all the things that take form.

As this space…

Things sounds, sensations, emotions and thoughts moved through her.

It was easy to forget that she wasn’t this woman or the thoughts and emotions moving through this space. 

But she wasn’t.

When she was still, she could feel that she wasn’t a woman at all.

She was the space where everything was happening.

Even the part of “her” that felt like it was watching what was happening was another experience happening in this space.

This was impossible to understand, but it was possible to feel. Sometimes.

She kept making up exceptions about things in this space that were actually a part of her.

“These are my thoughts, for I am the one thinking them.”

“This is my identity, for I have named myself as a human, woman, self.”

“This is my body, for I feel the world and feel my emotions in it.”

Yet, as the woman-who-was-not-really-a-woman sat in stillness…

….she saw that she wasn’t any of these things.

It seemed more like these things were moving through her.

These things were happening as her.

Or she was happening as these things.

The less real Her-Self-as-a-Woman became, the more she enjoyed playing the game of Being-a-Woman.

It was so much fun that the space of all she was (and wasn’t really) laughed as her.