Being in the world with its overlapping streams of interested absorption is seamless despite a continuous internal distance, a non-coincidence of intention and attainment. As you move about within it world moves with you, as if you are just world doing itself. It seems to be content all the way through and consciousness  merely added on, a way of taking its inner displacement, a way of thinking about thinking. But at the same time it all goes on as if inside consciousness, so, like a ship in a bottle, you wonder how all that matter could have passed through such a small hole, how intrinsic emptiness could be so cluttered with earnest entitlements.