Watching the traffic on an arterial road in a big city during a busy, but not peak, time offers a paradigm of emergence that is more illuminating than say, the typical example of the kinetic theory of gasses. The passing of cars is a discrete, irregular and frequent phenomenon. It has the same oddly pleasing Poisson-ish randomness as raindrops or the Geiger-like croak of frogs in a wetland. But to understand its relative smoothness and persistence you need to use a continuous measure of flow. When you do this you can derive a differential description which enables you to explain the endogenous behaviour of the flow, in particular the odd tendency that traffic has to become slowed down or temporarily jammed for no obvious reason, or more generally the mood of the traffic. To drive in such traffic is to enter this flow and to experience it, and to often be challenged or baffled by its dynamics. It is the flow of traffic that articulates with your purposes in having become a part of it; you are in your car to get somewhere and your will to get there, aggregated with the corresponding will of each other driver, is what creates the phenomena of the flow. At the same time as you are a discrete unit you are also a part of the emergent flow, you are simultaneously the individual with highly distinctive means, goals, methods and sense of self, and one of the substitutable corpuscles making up the flow. Every car is the expression of a brain that has been trained, and every trained brain is the imprint of a history - and all of this is submerged. There is more food for thought in this than in Searle's Chinese Room, since you can experience both modes of being in endless detail, can shift the emphasis between them to any degree. What is mysterious is not any antithesis between these modes but their effortless coexistence.