One can view as a midrange those beings who take as their task the execution of a life in which exchange occurs; their motto is "find what contribution you can make and make it; find a need and fill it." These are the beings who are making the game move ahead in some way.
In the upper range, those can be found who create good for their fellows, also, but who do not forget or ignore who they are; who seek to rediscover their faculties as openended consciousness; who remember the Wheel.
In the lower range, those who contribute both to their fellows (to whatever positive degree) AND to the Wheel, by the assertion of limiting beliefs, the assertions of conclusive ignorance, or the forwarding of separation as a sort of ideal.
Lower still, those whose destructive actions assert the supremacy of the apparent cycle over any glimmering of the spirit's nature and your own deep-felt sureness of Self. Here is the Wheel asserted to the point of denying its own nature: "One life, then black." These are the Universe's hoodlums, the Cosmic vandals. There is no wheel, cries the wheel; all is the moment's mechanical distribution.
The pulse of instantaneous creation justifies levity, joy, enthusiasm, action, cheer, and faith in the justice and inevitable good of AllIs.