The ontological core, or the dread at the limit of words, or whatever it may be that opens experiencing like a flower is never the outcome of any line of thought, although it may seem to be again and again. All formulas fail, as do dreams and novelties, gifts and desires. It comes and goes as it will, and when it is gone things go on as they always have. It is nothing but yourself, but you have no hold upon it, can neither summon it nor dismiss it. So much time is wasted in denial or ignorance of this simple reality.