Con­se­quently, our in­ner sense of hear­ing, which now feels the sur­face of our mind, try­ing to glean from it the in­for­ma­tion on the sound­ing outer event, re­ceives only part of the mes­sages and yet be­lieves firmly that it has re­ceived the com­plete mes­sage.

How­ever, it can only hear as much as our mind has dis­played.

Incom­plete as it is, this mes­sage, which our in­ner sense of hear­ing has queried from our mind, is trans­ferred to the un­der­stand­ing and to the feel­ing, which in turn pass the incom­plete mes­sage on to our self-con­scious­ness, to­gether with the cor­re­spond­ingly incom­plete re­sults of their eval­ua­tion.

If our self-aware­ness is un­crea­tive and unlively from within, it knows noth­ing of the natu­ral po­ten­tial of in­fi­nite di­ver­sity of the tone and of its im­mense, innate flexi­bil­ity, and there­fore it does not ex­pect in the first place that the sound, per­ceived so incom­plete from out­side, is more flexi­ble, more agile, more so­phis­ti­cated and struc­tur­ally more dy­namic in it­self than it ap­pears.
And owing to this ig­no­rance, it settles for the lesser in­for­ma­tion which has been trans­mit­ted so mu­ti­latedly from out­side to inside.

So, we ob­serve an uncriti­cal at­ti­tude of the self-con­scious­ness to­wards the mu­si­cal events in the sur­round­ings, or to­wards the mu­si­cal in­flu­ences re­spec­tively, and in this man­ner a non-criti­cal lis­tener be­comes a typi­cal mu­sic con­sumer.