The sense that I gets is that: It’s painfully inconsequential. There is nobody to promote, nobody to work (=struggle & suffer) for and nobody to build up. Which feels so abysmally flat. It feels like death. ’’Just life’’ without a grounding center. It feels groundless and totally meaningless. No boundary, no purpose, no project, no hope. And absolutely no control, since there is no need for that anymore. It feels almost bleak and yet immensely colorful at the same time. It’s not moving at all and it’s not warping around a self. There is no funneling. No congealing. No process and no progress whatsoever. It simply surrounds, all around, fully, gently, blooming, undulating. No path, no direction, no reference—just flat embeddedness. Laid out, spreading and sprawling. This moment. Almost radiant. Not quite radiant. I don’t know. No idea. Not the faintest. Just some brightness.