What could be better than staying in the flow? Self-consciousness is then diminished to almost zero. This doesn't preclude introspection, it's just that things keep moving, and the notion that consciousness can be employed to anchor being, and indeed that anchored being is preferable to flowing being, is scouted as an error in the right-operation of the apparatus, an anxious reflex like reaching for something solid that isn't there. There are so many other attentional parameters you can play with, narrowing or widening the valves, which produce all the music that there is, that you simply do not need to exist as a distinct subject, do not need the fiction of self-possession. Self-consciousness is then the marker of a misstep, of an error or incapacity in directing, helming, the flow. It's what your mind becomes entangled with when you have lost the plot. The flow itself, however is more a matter of being drawn than of being pushed, and what it is drawn towards are lakes of stillness, which are exactly where self-consciousness can arise in a way that is not limiting. Moments say, of retrospect and recapitulation, of attainment, of lyrical reflection - the self integrated within the economy of the mind's native creativity. Of all the objects in the garden only one is forbidden, and that is self-consciousness out of season, as something other than such punctuation in the flux. Is what is forbidden merely what is impossible? No there is something else which is forbidden but not impossible, and that is turning attention onto itself. If flow and self-consciousness both are the putting of difference to work, this is the work of pure indifference.