Awareness is a passing from and to, a reaching and a left behind, were wat is reached is immediately left behind. As such it has no substance but is an appearance of an appearance a speed which throws up a cloud of self-feeling in a futile quest for identity. This would not be possible if there weren't the identical most left-behind, un-split awareness whose phantom image is always projected forward. Ordinary awareness is a continual bleeding of self, as if it were a question that craves an answer. There is no such drama in original awareness which is effortless unmoving fulness.