so many things to think about . . . too much

Lately, the only thing I seem to be able to understand about being human is that I share language with others.  Language acts with metaphor and symbol to represent what it is that I experience.  Lacan said that the unconscious is structured like a language.  Language seems to be the only thing I can hang my hat on, in terms of “consciousness.” I feel the lived body experience as real, but somehow language is both inside and outside my head.  A statement or a song with lyrics will often fill a gap where my intentional thinking “mind” does not take the whole space of my “consciousness.”  I use no terms lightly (mind, body, unconscious, consciousness, language) and they are representations of things in the mental and physical world.  That world is the one my bodily experience embraces, though my gut and brain carry me to the precipice of annihilation or self-destruction or my demise.  My life is founded on all these matters and it is driven by my intentionality.  I find no escape from my inclinations.  Eternity, the infinite whole as Schleiermacher put it, escapes me.  Time is a construct,  I bring this up because no matter what I “think” I am measured  by time and I realize that I cannot be measured, at least it feels that way.  Time is based on change and is what we have invented as humans to order our daily activities. I have to get all this off my mind periodically in order to see clearer in my path of survival.  Again my cognitive world is driven by passions and I reckon with that with everyone I meet.   Again, I think it would be incredible to be on the inside of another’s subjective experience, to understand if that other experiences what I experience, for starters.