A knocking at the door demands my attention. “Open the door and tell me who I am!”

Who could it be? Am I ready for this encounter? The knocking continues. “Please open the door! Look at me and tell me who I am!”

Alright then. Here we go.

As I open the door, I see noone.
But something has changed. It — whatever it is — is here.

What is it?
It is not a thing, not a who or a what.
It is this.
This here.

There is a resonance, a wavey motion, a way of being carried, moved, shifted.

I realize that without me, it couldn’t be. Without this body, there would be nothing for it to inhabit and nothing giving rise to it. And without being let in, all it could be is an ever-louder banging on the door.

Now that it is here, the question has disappeared, but I decide to answer anyway.

“You are a modulator. You are music, dance. You are life. You are emotion.”

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