Slow experiencing without reflection. At first you think you've mislaid that active centre, no longer anywhere near the head, or else it has all been squeezed out as if it were some stuff that came in a tube. There's only a shimmering sphere of empty sentience, vaguely up here, say around the chest, unable to converse with itself. You are not really sure if you are there any more, as if you were something that had to be worked up each time. This is just potentiality with no accident, sweetly indifferent propensity refusing all comers, yet available for any sort of mischief.