What is alive in each moment is a tiny spark of resistance to the subsumption and repetition that make up the weave of experience. This resistance, as a distinct and distinguished counter-current, can appear as if it is external to the flow but it is in fact what fuels it. It is consumed in the living. Like sex it is an illusion of transcendence, it exists to be aroused - there is nothing more natural to be aroused, it is arousal itself - and consumed. The figures of will are sculpted or moulded out of the relations of these two phases intrinsic to the moments generated in purposive action by the various modes of reflection - from self and from others, and reflections of reflections. Another version of the same pattern exists in living time, where the movement of time, which is just what time is, is driven by a being-out-of-time which is a phase of time, necessarily linked to a concomitant phase of falling-back-into-time. You could say that the essence of time is to seemingly stop to pose a question to which time as annulment of the question is the answer, the ungraspable totality of all of which is the flow of time. It is more radical, however, to think this in terms of the will with its leaning on futurity, because now there is no part of the self left over as remainder.