But how attractive of course to the subject is the notion, the picture, of such a ‘cabinet,’ a treasure hoard of sense-impressions and sovereign reflections, each one bearing with it the hallmark of ownership (I ‘have’ these impressions/ experiences). The connotations here are of the pleasure of possession; one’s thoughts and reflections are like hoarded objects, the ‘objects’ of a collection. And how disconcerting, by contrast, to think of one’s precious lumber out there in the thick of things, contaminated and disseminated in worldly contact.
And yet in truth, is it not the worldly 'contamination' that comes first? Is not the Self first of all contaminated, intricated in things and people, and could not the booty of consciousness be seen, in part, as an unmetabolised remainder mistaking itself for an Essence??