So does the discomfort we talk about really stem from the nature of the wheel, or from the meaning we attribute to it? In other words, perhaps the issue is not the wheel itself, but our tendency to view it as a “problem” constantly. If we change that meaning, will the wheel continue to remain the same, or will it inherently transform?
We want to change the meaning we give to the wheel, but what if that meaning comes from the wheel itself? In other words, could what we call the nature of the wheel have an effect that is independent of the meaning we assign to it? Maybe that feeling of “discomfort” doesn’t even arise from a void we can attribute meaning to; perhaps it’s just the physical pressure of the system?
Is it possible to completely separate the wheel and the meaning relationship? After all, how is that physical pressure of the system felt without any connotation? Does the discomfort we refer to begin at the moment we notice that physical pressure, or does it emerge when we try to define something that has always existed?
Perhaps our tendency to see the wheel as a problem is a separate wheel itself? In other words, instead of merely explaining that feeling of discomfort through the physical pressure of the system or the meaning we ascribe to the wheel, we should consider how our constant need to solve and arrange has become a pattern. Maybe stepping out of that wheel results in becoming a cog in another wheel?
Perhaps what you mean by “solving and editing” here is not a necessity but could be a habit issue? I mean, we define this tendency as “a different wheel to get off the wheel,” but maybe the problem lies in whether this tendency is recognized or not. What is the trigger? Does that moment of solving always start from the same place?
But what about focusing on the movement within the wheel without setting a goal like getting out of the wheel or changing it? Perhaps directly experiencing that movement, rather than constantly searching for cause and effect, could open up a different awareness. Could it be that what causes discomfort is sometimes just the pursuit of direction itself?
Aren’t we missing how the wheel manages us while we keep saying we want to experience it? Let’s focus on the movement itself, okay, but where does the driving force behind that movement come from? Even the “awareness” you mention while being inside the wheel isn’t it already within the tempo/bounds of the wheel?
It may seem like a small detail, but that’s where the issue actually stemmed from. I wouldn’t have felt at ease without clarifying that.
Could solving this whole “wheel” issue itself be another wheel? That is, by constantly thinking about meaning, exit, direction, etc., is there a possibility that we’re actually serving a different purpose of the wheel? Maybe the movement in the wheel concerns us less than we think.
“You say that the movement of the wheel concerns us less than we think, but what are we going to make of the possibility that the wheel concerns us more than we think? Just thinking that we are part of the movement is already its effect, right? So even if the wheel doesn’t concern you, you concern it. How will that be resolved?”
But can your relationship to the wheel or your level of concern for the wheel be independent of each other? In other words, must we assume that because you are experiencing being part of the movement, it means that the movement belongs to you? Perhaps the issue is that no one can really determine who is in what role… Are we spinning around in this uncertainty?
In the matter of turning in uncertainty, could it be critical not only to consider who is in which role but also to define that role based on what? We call it a wheel, but who draws the boundaries of that wheel? Perhaps everyone assumes their position within the movement is drawn by an outsider, but what if those boundaries arise from internal perceptions?
Perhaps the boundaries of what we call the wheel are defined as much by internal perceptions as by external validations? In other words, might the effort to align the wheel’s speed or direction not be determined by individual thoughts, but rather by the perspectives of others? In this case, shouldn’t we be asking not “who’s” in the wheel, but rather why the wheel wants to be shared so much?
If we are questioning the matter of sharing, perhaps the wheel itself legitimizes its existence not through an approval mechanism, but rather through the need for that “sharing”? In other words, the real question is, why do we accept the existence of the wheel so readily, and feel such a need to share it or conform to it? What barriers exist that prevent us from pretending to be outside of the wheel?
Could the barrier to pretending to be outside the wheel be that we may not be able to completely externalize the wheel? In other words, no matter how much you think you’ve stepped outside of it, you have already left your mark somewhere on that wheel. Aren’t we legitimizing our continued relationship with it while appearing to deny the wheel?
Perhaps the issue is not the wheel leaving a mark, but rather your choice to see that mark as a connection? If all our perception of the wheel’s existence can be a mental projection, could it show not what is actually there, but what we are searching for? Maybe what we call the wheel is actually the result of an endeavor to seek.
So, if what we call the wheel is the result of a search effort, is there a starting point for this effort? In other words, if we assume that we are born into the wheel, do we make the decision to start searching ourselves, or is that effort also a product of the wheel? Should we question whether it is possible for a search that never begins?
If a search hasn’t begun, is there a false need created by the wheel itself then? In other words, perhaps we think we are inside that wheel, but it actually affects us more than we realize. What if the wheel doesn’t exist at all?
If there is no wheel, then why do we behave as if there is something? I mean, even if we are convinced of the idea that the wheel never existed, does that nullify its effects? Perhaps the issue is not the existence of the wheel, but rather that we construct it as if it exists and define ourselves through it. 
Even if we feel the effects of the wheel, perhaps the issue is more about the energy we spend thinking about it than how much we build it? In other words, could we have exaggerated the importance we give to it rather than its existence? After all, feeling like it exists doesn’t actually mean that its power comes from us?