Mind is a recording instrument, good enough for lightening fast retrieval. Where we actually do iGoogle, and loads of memories come bouncing back... feelings and experiences being elaborate and essential meta information. That information makes us FEEL the way we do, but just as they happened in the Universe of your cogent choice, likewise they might very well be absent in someone else's choices. Its all a plan of possibilities, where we pick what we chose and IDENTIFY ourselves with it. Incidences are nothing but currents through brain cells. Storage being perpetual background job. Sounds strange and intrusive doesn't it? Indeed it is. Because within the play of these seemingly convincing arguments we lose the sense of I, we lose what we represent and hold dear, we lose all our Iness, If reality is an illusion, so to speak, well then we are no better! What are the take homes from this hurting decipherment. Questions...and ..well thats it, only questions. Reason being made our coveted possession for a purpose, a purpose which seems quite apparent now. Storage being there for retrieval and experience for more storage which is again guided by retrievals. Essence of these tangled hierarchies, doesn't seem obvious. Realizing that my childhood is nothing more than recorded frames of experiences, makes everything look so useless, present past and future begin files with different timestamps in some huge data storage, nothing more. Why should I take care that these files be properly formatted, who am I to bother anyway. I feel tormented some times, torn between these subtle revelations and grosser experiences, Driven by desires controlled by restrain, overpowered by temptations subdued by plight. There is indeed a difference between knowing the path and walking the path which demands considerable discernment and discretion but it takes a hell more to figure out whether we really want to walk.