It seems to me that the most superficial and transient things are those to which we (mysteriously) attribute the most significance and meaning. This is always bound to create insecurity and friction because those foundational symbols and narratives of self and world which we attribute the source of our own existence and purpose are just as transient and contingent as everything else. We tend to double down on our bad bets, relentlessly pursuing continuity and certainty in what is fundamentally a discontinuous, volatile and uncertain world. Even a mature narrative of impermanence and endemic metamorphosis can sometimes be little more than an existential security blanket and psychological symptom or emotional longing and mischievous self-misdirection in search of a non-existent wholeness or meaningful completion to things.