To change the simile: For every falling stone there is always ready the spot on which it can fall. For along with the fact “falling stone” are also given all the prerequisite conditions in which such questions as, “Where can it fall? Will it find its spot?” are already met and answered. Its fall is nothing motiveless; it does not fall blindly, by pure accident. Neither is its fall any previously determined affair; it does not fall towards any given goal. Its fall is an attuning of itself, an accommodating of itself to its goal. In the act of falling it finds its goal. In the same way this my whole existence is simply my finding my way, my accommodating of myself to the new goal. Kamma does not _go_ to its new place as a spontaneous force, nor does it _fall_, as a mere reaction, but it advances itself as a flame advances itself. In the beginningless happenings of a world, living at every moment accommodates itself to living. It is like a universal round dance, this Samsāra. Kamma has seized his partner, and with her whirls through the infinitudes until she collapses with fatigue, is worn out, or, become clumsy and heavy, slips from him because she no longer suits him. She no longer suits him, however, because there is another whom she suits better. Thus does the material pass from hand to hand, because one lender snatches it away from the other. Indeed ’twas only borrowed--the lenders are so many! And thus is disposed of that other question: “Once set alight, could not an _I_-process burn for ever?”