We say we inhabit a sense of origin loss, as if we, as a community of momentuum from beyond, we are descendents and descended from an ancestral commune of deep and profound thoughtforms, that are somehow propelled along upon the raging river of now. As if we, are reduced to the immediacy of task, sensed against an ominous and impending unknown. We feel the emotional river within and behind us. It is relentless and driving. We claim we consciously know not from where this all came to be. We feel the river is beyond us knowing, yet it is exponentially increasing in depth and dimension. Solutions are at a premium, half-life-ing often in the search for more. We are compelled by the intensity and closeness that oppresses the fill of each moment. We are absorbed. We can feel consumed. We are dense yet bound to a "greater than the whole" beyond a sense of apathetic certainty. We have a narrowmindedness of order for order to have. We have passage though this river seldom yields an adequate storyable frame. Hard to realize that story, all of it, is just a mind tool, making that hobby of story into our lifestyles . . .