Martin, You write: "Your message led me to ask myself about potential fields of experience that exist beyond the senses, and thus that can't really be described. For example, I'm starting to feel more and more that there's a substance that permeates me and everything around me, an emptiness that is actually really full. Some have called it ether. There is no way for my senses to apprehend it (or is there?) and yet I'm certain that it's there. How? Are there other sensory modalities that we could add to the VAKOG bag that we already have?" I think that the answer to your question is, probably not! We might mess with VAKOG in order to, for example, split K into Kinaesthetics and Proprioception but really to do so would be simply to quantify aspects of the 'K class' of receptors. However, the emptiness that you report 'might' be the background screen upon which the apparent differences created by the transform reductions, F1, F2 are projected. This is probably best illustrated by the following vignette from an earlier era of my life: It’s late and I have seen three families already this afternoon. The face in the mirror looks tired; it’s the face of someone who wants to go home. The family has been referred by Social Services for assessment. The Local Authority is engaged in Care Proceedings with the family. The mother and children live in a family centre, the father occupies the family’s flat. The woman carries a tiny baby who smells and needs changing. The man seems hostile, he seems to resent the assessment, but has come in order to ‘win’ his children back. The three year old sits on his lap, a white candle of mucus suspended from his nose. A six-year old girl sits near the mother. Slowly I attempt to instil some structure into the session, mother leaves to change the baby’s nappy. The father is talking more reasonably. But when mother returns the three year old says he wants to go to the toilet. When Father tells him to wait he vomits on the floor. From that no-place where the universe assembles I recognise that all this process is occurring in the same space as my torso, hands and feet. It is occurring within a space called ‘my experience’. I realise that I am part of the chaos, and also its witness. I find that as a witness I am neither tired nor stressed.  I encourage the family members to take some time out. The following week when they arrive they are more relaxed. There is also a vomit stain on the clinic’s fitted carpet. As the weeks pass that indelible stain on the floor reminds me of how even the most unpredictable and apparently hostile families may be helped when engaged from the place of timeless clarity. Stephen