There is no logic to the forms of succession, nothing is ever transcended or cancelled and preserved, things just follow in their own sweet way, even if it isn't always all that sweet. There are no answers because there are no questions, no arising experience is ever a question in its nature but only sometimes in its confused tenor seeming to need a response. To be under constraint you pace restlessly like a beast too large for its cage. The door never opens; there isn't a door. When that finally dawns on you then behold, you were never in there at all.