After people die, babies are born—and, unless they are automata, every one of them is, just as we ourselves were, the “I” experience coming again into being. The conditions of heredity and environment change, but each of those babies incarnates the same experience of being central to a world that is “other.” Each infant dawns into life as I did, without any memory of a past. Thus when I am gone there can be no experience, no living through, of the state of being a perpetual “has-been.” Nature “abhors the vacuum” and the I-feeling appears again as it did before, and it matters not whether the interval be ten seconds or billions of years. In unconsciousness all times are the same brief instant. This is so obvious, but our block against seeing it is the ingrained and compelling myth that the “I” comes into this world, or is thrown out from it, in such a way as to have no essential connection with it. Thus we do not trust the universe to repeat what it has already done—to “I” itself again and again. We see it as an eternal arena in which the individual is no more than a temporary stranger—a visitor who hardly belongs—for the thin ray of consciousness does not shine upon its own source. In looking out upon the world, we forget that the world is looking at itself—through our eyes and IT’s.