I have come to realize that what i think or imagine, and what i accept as my reality, really appears to me as having this physiognomic quality of its own.
What i relate to and call experience obviously has a phenomenology and a reality in its own right.
Its behaviour is actually independent of me.
I cannot recognize experience as the source of all things. Its appearance is more like the behaviour of an interior reality making itself personally known from behind what i imagine.
It is something making its point with the energy of my impulses trying to break free from the literalization of my perceptions.