The fly looked at me. I reciprocated. I thought about reincarnation. Was the fly some person in a past life? More importantly, was it someone who I had known: a relative, or a long-lost friend, or even a gone but not forgotten pet.
‘Do you know me?’ The fly looked at me with its multifaceted eyes. I saw no hint of recognition, and certainly no proof of reincarnation.
But then a deeper question emerged. How often it seems that when we look for answers in others we end up questioning ourselves and our own existence.
‘Do I know me? Do I know who I am and what I’m doing?’
The fly flew. I was alone, looking at myself once again.