There is something that it feels like to just reduce attention to what is yourself and it is the same as what you do each night when you lie in bed and gently petition sleep to come, a settling and cozying of the body, a detachment from purposes and an enjoyment of a sort of homecoming, of the companionship of your unchanged self, and the sense of proximity of the interior paramour, only you do this too without the intention to sleep but maintaining a steady vigilance. That is what being you feels like and yet it is not at all a reflection of what you are, since it is the project of a point consciousness whereas the truth must be a global consciousness, whether you think of this as what is happening in your brain, the myriad complex networked processes or as the mind that is projecting the entire scene, the total context that makes the point consciousness possible. The point consciousness knows itself to be incomplete, that is why it always has something further to do in order to coincide with itself, and it is that incompleteness, reimagined surprisingly, that is the doorway to the global consciousness without any possible boundary.