In the end, living is defined by dying.
The successful Idea travels from mind to mind, claiming new territory, mutating as it goes.
I respond well to what I read of Immanuel Kant's idea that the world as we see it is absolutely a function of the way our brain works. In the modern parlance, it's an evolved machine that we carry with us.
Thought, like any parasite, cannot exist without a compliant host.
But time passes. Fear becomes a memory. Terror becomes routine; it loses its grip.
Which came first, the mind or the idea of the mind? Have you never wondered? They arrived together. The mind is an idea.