All of us live two separate lives.

These lives inhabit two different worlds. So, we live simultaneously in two different dimensions!

In one life we write, or compose, or think, or construct, or produce something. In the other we eat, go to the toilet, run errands, clean the garage, appear at court, sit in the doctor’s waiting room. In the one life we do what we are meant to do — we live “properly,” so to speak. In the other life we are dragged and pulled by the necessary insignificancies of everyday commonality.

The writer has to stop writing for a while in order to give interviews, market his book, negotiate his cut with his publisher. The artist has to stop painting so that she may search for a gallery to represent her, find clients for her work, move to a new studio with lower rent. The singer has to stop cultivating his voice so that he can deal with lawyers, promote his new song, respond to his critics. When the author writes, the artist paints, and the singer sings, they inhabit one world: we may call it the main highway of life. When they are engaged in all the other incidental sidetracks of being alive, they inhabit the other world.

Yet we seem to be able to move effortlessly from the one life to the other. Most times, we are not even aware of this switching between the two worlds. We are just passive witnesses to its occurrence. One minute the writer thinks or writes, the next minute the phone rings, or the doctor appointment is approaching, and all work must come to a halt in what seems like a seamless transition from one world to the other. This effortless movement hides from our constant view the reality that we truly live two lives.

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