Under the effects of some exogenous cause the sense of the body is deeply altered and this brings with it changes in the way of experiencing the various sheaths by which the self is embedded in its world. Habits of thought and feeling arise but don't engage and so they float past estranged like fish in an aquarium, no longer relevant to the new, but old, condition. The sense of self is like a silvery capsule floating high in an imagined sky and tethered to obscure childhood memories of inarticulate flows and strange architectures. The feeling of being lost in ancestral realms is not clarifying but nonetheless fascinating, you would linger here if you could, would find the pathways to deeper sources prior to all your entanglements. There is a vast forgotten history here that has taken place inside and behind the one you normally recall. Where you have been eager to do nothing but exercise the capabilities of each day, this one concerns the potentialities themselves whose end is not in their exercise but simply in the way you choose them. The real story goes on in such inner landscapes, as if this is all that finally you could take with you.