making sense

Sometimes my experiences start to make sense. Now I can, after all, go on.

How easy it is to misconstrue this as 'Sometimes I start to make sense of my experiences'.

Already we're sunk. Already we've become narrative enquirers into our experiences. The sense that arises, now, within our experience is lost behind a philosophical story.

Sense is sometimes created - made - by experiences. They have an intelligible form - not in the sense that I am there making sense of them. No. I'm there making sense of the world. I am doing this, now, in my experiencing of it. This doing is my experiencing. 

'Now I see.'

Now my experiences make ( - create - ) sense.

The intelligibility of my experiences is not their intelligibility to me. Instead their form is one of the forms of intelligibility itself. The form this intelligibility takes is that of this particular experiential encounter.