It wasn't that I was a hermit, or had no directions or connections to home, but my desire to become slowly literate always kept me awake. Not so much to have a link or two to an awareness of my surroundings, but to alleviate boredom or it seems quite clear, this preoccupation with depression. Not the sort of depression that one finds in studying geology or geographical nuances in topography, but the lack of the sounds of silence.
When you often find yourself going to and fro, regardless of the hair style you carry with you from time to time, as you traversed the signposts of your conscious and subconscious mind, those obvious desires to sustain the brain cells from deterioration were necessary evils. Sort of, as I recalled numerous times, the interior decoration of your inner self. Concurring with these stimulating arrangements with the furniture you collected on multi-lateral adventures, was a good thing after all, in deciphering the encrypted spiritual guide maps that were always being left, never explained, though they often remained afterwards and soon became the benefits of any doubts when reviewed for posterity's sake.
The synaptic encyclopedia was always there in case you need to be reminded of the library you installed since the day you were born, and you soon became aware, sometimes, you had not returned some or all of the books you from time to time checked out for convenience sake, but also had access to ones you had no idea you had collected, through one form of illusion or another, and could replace them at any given moment to release another deluge of information, restoring that encyclopedia you chose, given the reality that the Universe was infinite in it's dimensional deluge.
I don't conclude that any of this meandering has any potential value other than it's own existence, but is always a deterrent to leaving the home planet after awhile so as not to fulfill whatever mission you made for yourself to experience before you chose ascension.
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