The alter-ego

The alter-ego lives in a small, cosy cottage up in the mountains. She gets up early and drinks strong, bitter coffee and stretches her arms up and out, as if hugging the mountains and the morning sky. A part of what she wears is always bright red: today it is a satin ribbon in her hair; yesterday it was lipstick and last week it was all in the way she looked at the world. Tomorrow it might be her toenails, but that's another matter. The alter-ego always lives in the present. And she didn't need a psychologist to show her how or existential philosophy to explain it. She manages to be and to be fully present quite naturally. The alter-ego is never bored. There's always something that excites or enthuses her and her face lights up and she goes for it. The alter-ego knows how to take action. You would never find her standing around, twirling her hair and looking a little lost. The alter-ego is always now or never. She doesn't look back, not over her shoulder or into the past - she gets neither anxious nor nostalgic. She dances to any kind of music and she is beautiful and funny and full of grace as she does this. The alter-ego has a way of showing you a different side of yourself. People tend to like and admire her - of course, she does not let this go to her head. She has a balanced sense of self-worth. She does not fret or sulk; instead she grows still, like a lake. Sometimes she wonders what it might be like to be other than who she is; to be a surprising contradiction to herself; to be shadowed by a perfect, attractive opposite. But these thoughts rarely (that is, almost always never) occur to her. For she is right there, in the moment, with bright red accessories, on top of the world - complete and aglow.