LAYLA:
“We evolve as much with the parallel as we do with the present.” David Whyte.
The crossroads in our past can haunt us or simply invite a few moments of curiosity. How we choose to frame it often depends on our current state of mind. When things aren’t going well, it’s easy to slip into “grass is greener” thinking- imagining how different, how much better life might have been if we’d booked that flight or gone on that second date.
Whyte’s idea of parallel lives points to those pivotal moments where another choice might have led to a completely different reality. But if you follow that logic fully, there wouldn’t be just one alternative life, there would be countless ones. Every small, seemingly inconsequential decision sets us on an alternate course. The scale of it makes any single imagined “better life” feel less certain and more like a story we’re telling ourselves rather than a  solid truth.
It’s easy to romanticise the past, especially when we want to preserve a particular feeling; joy, excitement, connection. But difficulty isn’t unique to the life we chose- it’s part of any life. The path not taken could just as easily have been harder.
Our minds are skilled at filling in the blanks. The “one that got away” becomes mythic with time. Memory itself isn’t fixed- each recollection reshapes it slightly so over the years what we remember becomes something closer to our own creation than to what actually happened.
That’s why the old parable my sister likes fits so well- the farmer’s son breaks his leg and people say, “That’s a shame.” The farmer replies, “Maybe.” Later, the injury spares him from being taken to war- “That’s good,” they say. “Maybe,” the farmer answers again. The point isn’t optimism or pessimism, but perspective: events themselves don’t carry fixed meaning.
And even if a different path might have improved parts of our own lives, it might also have altered someone else’s in ways we can’t foresee (The Butterfly Effect reminds us how far those consequences could reach).
Maybe that’s the point: the parallel life isn’t something to measure ourselves against, but something that can deepen our awareness and appreciation of the one we’re in.

PATRIZIA:
“Parallels” relates to the common and frequent question we ask ourselves as we journey through life: what if? What if I had chosen a different career or another place where to live? What if I had pursued my passion? What if I had said yes? What if I had tried harder?
In our Western world, we are sold the idea of potentially limitless choices in life. As for me, I have come to the conclusion that this idea is a disastrous fallacy – life itself is the metaphorical fishbowl mentioned by psychologist Schwartz, in that it limits our choices by only granting us a limited time and, as far as I am concerned, only one shot at it.
When our minds perpetrate the idea that all the things we did not choose might have been the better ones, we end up feeling dissatisfied. And the more dissatisfied we feel, the more we foster thoughts of alternative paths and what-might-have-beens.
So, when I catch myself wondering in the what-if realm, rather than indulging in daydreaming, I try to analyze the reasons for my discontent. The conclusion is almost invariably the same: the negative disposition I feel is only linked to momentary emotions tied to passing situations. I know that any alternative reality I might construct in my mind could have very well presented different circumstances, different achievements and different problems, but the emotional rollercoaster would have been just the same – happiness, sadness, gratification, disappointment, certainties and uncertainties. It’s the human condition.
When I feel dissatisfied, I find comfort in thinking that life is not a cohesive flow of events that follows a non-derailable path, rather a sequence of moments and that, at any moment, I have the power to somehow shift direction if I put all my efforts into it. As for what I cannot change, my consolation comes from having dispelled the illusion of greener grass and from feeling fortunate for what I have, because nothing is owed to anyone and all is but fleeting for everyone, anyway.

BRUNELLA:
In geometry, parallel lines are defined as lines that remain the same distance apart and never meet. They exist perfectly as a mathematical idea; in the real world, they exist only as a possibility.
Whyte writes: “In the human imagination, a parallel world is not a replica of the one we live in, nor its exact opposite… it keeps company with it, like a shadow, always referring back to it in some way.”
The notion of parallel lives and worlds runs through science fiction and the films it inspires- many stories are built on this idea. Today, though, even science has begun to take a serious interest in the possibility.
But why do we imagine a parallel life? Out of boredom, anxiety, trauma, emotional gaps, wrong choices—or simply because of those persistent “what ifs…” we all carry with us.
Whyte also observes: “There are many deathbeds where the path not taken feels more real and present than the one that was chosen.” The idea of a parallel life, then, seems to grow out of something deep within us.
When we find ourselves at a crossroads, we don’t always make the choice that proves right (or satisfying) in the end. And so a parallel life begins to take shape: sometimes as an invitation, sometimes as a quiet reproach. It urges us on or murmurs to us, as if breathing alongside our own life.
Perhaps, then, it is more accurate to speak not of parallel lives, but of coexisting ones. In this sense, the idea of the “parallel” can become a kind of defence- a way of stepping aside from reality.
Letting the mind wander in this way can be enriching, as long as we don’t lose touch with the world around us and are able to return from our musings.
There are, however, people who experience this far more intensely, as though living two or more lives at once. In some cases, this takes the form of maladaptive daydreaming, a condition that may call for the help of a psychologist… but that would be another chapter altogether.
The idea that reality might branch off into different paths has always fascinated me. It was quantum physics that first challenged our view of reality by suggesting the existence of the “multiverse”. There’s even a theory by an Australian metaphysical researcher claiming that recurring dreams are gateways to other dimensions, where alternative versions of ourselves exist- much like in the film Inception.
I believe our consciousness can move beyond the boundaries of time and space not only when we’re asleep, but also when we drift into daydreams. We’ve been given a wonderful gift that makes us inventive and creative: imagination itself. It’s a kind of thinking that isn’t bound by logic, but instead allows us to travel freely through the past and the future.
I know that doctors, metaphysicians, mathematicians and physicists continue to explore these mysteries tirelessly and that what seems impossible or paradoxical today may one day prove to be real. Sadly, as a ninety-year-old dreamer, I’m unlikely to see such a remarkable discovery in my lifetime. So I shall go on dreaming with my eyes open, because I find the world of imagination far more compelling than the reality around me.