We do spend a lot of time in our own minds, even if we are largely ignoring that whole undercurrent of self-experience. The basic shape, structure, and flow of inner experience often goes unexamined. How well do we actually know the lay of the land, our own inner topologies? Here are twelve frames for understanding our experience.

Right now, as you read this, part of you is having the experience of reading, and another part is aware that you're having it. There's the experiencer and the witness of experiencing. This double structure seems fundamental to being conscious at all.

William James noticed this — the distinction between the "I" that knows and the "me" that is known. Martin Buber added: We can relate to ourselves in different ways. We can treat ourselves as objects to analyze and fix (I-It relating), or we can meet ourselves with genuine presence and curiosity (I-Thou). The warmth being presented in our stance — the kindness and regard in the moment — changes not just the quality of our self-relation, but the outcome as well.

The idea of a single, unified self is probably a useful fiction. We seem to be more like ensembles — with different aspects that come forward under different conditions. The you at work isn't identical to the you with old friends. These aren't masks hiding a "real" self underneath; they're all real, all you.

Psychiatrist-psychoanalyst Harry Stack Sullivan described how we can imagine "good me," "bad me," and "not me" organizations of experience—different self-states that carry different feelings, memories, and ways of engaging. It is also possible to overdo the plurality, making it too literal or concrete, or even a self-fulfilling "processophecy" (process prophecy).

Clock time moves steadily, but inner time is all over the map. An hour of boredom stretches "forever"; an hour of flow vanishes. Under threat, seconds can dilate into what feels like minutes. In grief or

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