The basic shape of experience does not change but the overall intensity and the relative intensities of its components does vary over a considerable range. It is difficult to pin down all of these components however, because only the same experiencing apparatus is available for doing so. The structure of experience is dimly legible to experience but only exists in relation to experience. To say that experience splits into subject and object, that stale old dichotomy, is to point out that it is external to itself. It is more or less focalised, but always out of a field that is too large to be grasped. The field is known in some way, however, since it largely determines the meaning and relations of the contents of experience. One name for the field is life, or 'my life' - most of what we know of experience by way of someone's life, but not just anyone, me! Experience is ungrounded, in that it does not justify, explain or give rise to itself, but grounding is an ever-present question for it. It knows that it is and it doesn't know what or why it is, or why it cares so much about these questions. The content is ever-changing but the invisible geometry within which that content arises is constant, or at least appears to be so relative to the contents. Experience seems known to itself less through the contents, those kaleidoscopic and flashing mirror images, than through the map of patterns of intensity known as a life-story.