Ancestral studies pair best with impermanence. Devote ourselves to the former, and we tend toward melodrama. Devote ourselves to the latter, and we spiral into an existential void, or become overly identified with a system that emphasizes a lack of identity. Our indigenous heritage is like a hearth fire that animates Buddhism, prevents it from being what it is not—cold, stripped of id, abolishing names in terrifying unity. Impermanence is warm and alive. Impermanence is the loyal dog at our feet. Its reductive quality focuses us, clears our head like a good shower.