Is it possible to not be myself? A physical object in the universe, a man, a sentient being? What is life, but an aggregation of discrete moments, meaningful, connected by the vast slippery dark matter of meaningless moments in five dimensional space? Who are you but a reflection of my one true self, the summation of existence, my molecules mixing with your molecules?
To recognize that transience as simply transformation has power. It has power to guide the transformation as a regeneration of three dimensional space, the sameness of thought yet the evolution of thinking, leaving indelible marks as blips in the filmstrip of the universal record. What comes next is a self assured dream of what comes next.