This is what I understand to be the difference between actuality / the condition-less enjoyment of being alive, and ‘being’ as the ‘human condition’; each moment of ‘being’ is a trial, a test, a do or die ultimatum. It’s never anything but a trudging battle against the obvious inevitability of failure.
I woke this morning with the fealing of acute anxiety in my chest. Later in the day it occurred to me that there was no such thing as “anxiety in my chest”. That my heart may indeed be reacting to my jogging exercise, and my beer intake, but “terror” was never in my actual chest.