The key discovery is that the “steam of consciousness” is outside, without there being any “outside” anywhere.

It never exactly reflects back upon itself or shapes up into a conscious being. It never folds over itself or doubles up. If it can appear as historical, it is only because the stream can recognize itself through the very same power that undoes, underdetermines and unbinds it—by a sort of “return” to the stream, which is more like the Turn of the stream itself in its indefinite restlessness—or rather, in the stream’s remaining with itself the Same, despite whatever is made to ripple in the it, the stream’s “turning itself (in).”

That the stream of consciousness is in its turning “outside” every object or position of consciousness (whatever might be observed to be floating along the current) can lead to the well-intentioned illusion that it is actually language or some other ephemeral or incorporeal material—not a constituted language made of definitions and grammars, but the primordial soup of thought, made of infinitely divisible and reshapeable sounds and letters and senses—as well as numbers and their relations (quantum and geometrical)—or perhaps of ghosts and spirits, evil and benevolent, but above all in-visible forces—or finally of things themselves, of pure reality-matter, however it could be conceived.

But whether we call it consciousness or language or materiality, all we can know is that every access to it (if it be an “it” at all, which is doubtful given the fundamental instability and “non-objectivizability” of the stream) is common, generic. No one ever owned an ounce of it for themselves; and every splash they made there was sent instantly elsewhere. The history of the stream can be viewed fruitfully as a karmic chain, or as unconscious traces, or as structured in an astral field or in a cosmic hologram—all these metaphors (or simply “phors”: carryings without distance, without any exterior space of passage or transfer) express the “immanence” of the stream (to) itself—meaning that we are each entirely submerged or pre-(e)merged, so much so that there is no “we” but this quantum of expression: One-stream that flowed from no source (because never leaving itself, because it is nothing but the flow of the generic Same, source of “no one” as generic Turn)―a wave that ever laps and never lapses and ever goes: “oceanic transindividuality.”

What is lived experience itself—whether we call them memories or moments or anticipations—how could we describe it if not in this way: as essentially ripples in the stream of the One or even as the wave (of) One-stream “itself”? Generic waves, not added, not accumulated, never subtracted, never folded, but simply superposed and superposed without our action or effort: instantaneous “participation” of every lived wave in the generic stream—which now needn’t be seen as conscious or unconscious, linguistic or beyond language, because it is simply lived and that is sufficient: without any need of predication or definition, because “accessed” only as quantic faith in the stream.

The key discovery is that we are indivisibly “in” this “outside”—so much so that this (out)side is nothing-but-in-One. Thus the ease of access for thinking to the undivided essence (of) the stream. With our vision thus in-verted, with the distance that would separate us from it reduced to an objective appearance not at all of the essence of the Real, we see there is no “side” that is not “in(side)”; and that the One-stream, by the simplicity of its radical immanence, by its unilateral essence, comes one time each time prior to “what is”―prior to any determination that could be made of the stream.

Thus the joy of splashing, of entering each time for the first time into this flow we’ll never leave―the peace of consciousness seeing itself in-One-streaming.

—May 24, 2017