When I actually pay attention, I realize that I do not know what I am doing. I do not actually know what anything is, or the real nature of situations. I dwell, instead, in a panorama of representational overlays which invest their character in sustaining themselves. But I have no idea what a jar is, what lettuce is. Knowing about molecules or even atoms does nothing to assist this for a crucial reason: the root element of identity is missing. There is none. Since the root element is missing, all of its progeny are actually indeterminate, and whatever we put where the root (identity/way/meaning/purposive character) element might be — transforms the entire world of appearances into reflections and subclasses of this root.

But we have no idea what the root element is, and both science and religion have failed in their bid to either object, declare it to us, imply it, or hover authoritatively around the precipice of its standing absence.

I do not know what language is. Or what I am actually doing. What I am doing is, instead, the result of having acquired complex relational and representational ‘ideas’, habits, nomenclature, and suppositions. Fictions, mostly, no matter how effective or noble they might seem. They »must be fictions, because I have no true sense of the supercontainer: what is reality »for? What are minds?

There is »a way of not knowing that is beyond all possible knowledge.

The deeper I look into the representational overlays I am habituated to dwell within, the clearer it is to me that they are strangely engineered fictions. Frameworks that take the place of intimacy, presence, insight, and actual relation. They attempt to fill the (w)hole where the roots of meaning, relation and identity might otherwise more authentically arise, exist, or find developmental communion.

But my mind itself, and the entire face of life on Earth, is the standing ‘body of presence’ of the suspiciously missing (w)hole(s). And its true nature is vastly beyond the reach of our traditional overlays, habits, and technologies.

So, too, our own.