Thus, all existence is like the clouds. Each created thing appears to be solid and firm, but in truth it is insubstantial and transitory:  “Man’s origin is dust and his end is unto dust. He earns his bread at the risk of his life. He is likened to a broken potsherd, to withering grass, to a fading flower, to a passing shadow, to a vanishing cloud, to a blowing wind, to dust that scatters, and to a fleeting dream.”

These are not thoughts we want to push from our consciousness. These are not thoughts that need to paralyze us.