\u201cOnce upon a time,\u201d her mother began, tucking the blanket a little closer under her daughter\u2019s chin, \u201cthere was a musician who loved to play the piano late at night. He would sit very quietly, just him and the keys, and let his fingers wander. And when the notes came out, oh, how beautiful they sounded! They seemed to breathe, almost as if they were alive, whispering secrets in the dark.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The little girl blinked slowly, listening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBut one night,\u201d her mother continued, her voice lower now, gentle as a lullaby, \u201cthe musician had a curious thought. He wondered if the music was really alive, or if it was only him imagining it so. And then he thought about himself. His brain, busy and full of sparks, was making this person he called I.<\/em> Just like the piano made sounds. Maybe he wasn\u2019t separate from his brain at all, maybe I<\/em> was just another song being played.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She stroked her child\u2019s hair, pausing long enough to let the idea float like a feather.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd the musician laughed softly, because it meant he was just like his music. The notes weren\u2019t truly alive, but when you listened closely, they seemed to be. And isn\u2019t that wonderful? To pretend together. To believe for a little while that the world is singing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her daughter’s eyes had drifted shut. Her mother leaned close.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd so, my love, the musician learned a little secret: wisdom is not about proving what\u2019s real or not real. Wisdom is listening to the music, even if it fades, and loving it anyway., especially if it snores\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u201cOnce upon a time,\u201d her mother began, tucking the blanket a little closer under her daughter\u2019s chin, \u201cthere was a musician who loved to play the piano late at night. […]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"Layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[900],"tags":[],"class_list":["entry","author-rockbob","post-9022","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","category-tales"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bobwiseman.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9022","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bobwiseman.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bobwiseman.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bobwiseman.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bobwiseman.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=9022"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.bobwiseman.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9022\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bobwiseman.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9022"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bobwiseman.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9022"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bobwiseman.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9022"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}