The constancies of outer perception provide relief, or respite, from an inner world that swirls unendingly. This movement is in the mutual relativity of the object and subject poles but is also independently in each of them in which that very distinction is cast. And swirling doesn't do it justice because it is also jerky and ragged, it flashes and darkens unpredictably, and with inhuman ferocity. To address it is to court nausea, it is intolerable, literally insupportable. You must pass through this chaos but only after opening to it completely by seeing the fragile illusion that there is anything beside or above it shattered. There can be no internal foothold that you could use to steady your awareness into a single quality or flavour, the idea does not even exist.