Experience begins in response. If consciousness is the unbounded disposition for presence, then response is what shapes it into experience. It is as if it discovers its own presence in answering 'Here I am' to a call that comes to it from without - from outside the seething potentiality that is pure formless presence. It doesn't know that there is such an outside until it is called, until experience begins, but it is not really surprised either, since the call, to be a call, must be immediately recognised, must seem as if already known but merely, until now, forgotten. Experience, in experience, always resumes, never entirely begins. In the solitary cabinet of one's heart no self can be found since such a one cannot summon itself with the requisite authority. In attempting to do so it only produces flickering images, displaced in time, which rapidly fade away. These are attempts to repeat the event of its own creation, the original summoning. It is an idea, that the self exists independently of experience, an exciting idea, perhaps a delightful one, and only an idea. But here, in this place, to be called is to be called by name. You cannot help but respond, even if only a certain voice can pronounce your true name. But there is a summoning that took place before the recognition of any name in the demand for a response, a demand that recognises who it is that has responded, and that keeps demanding until you turn towards it, are present to it. The world seems to understand this, without particularly respecting it, only just enough to ensure its inescapable authority over you.