Looking back, I am amazed at my tangled journey. As well as my luck, for there is no better word for it. Which is why Odysseus is my precursor, if not my alter ego, as well (“The New Odysseus,” January 1, 1980). Way back, I understood the central place of community in the human endeavor (“On Excommunication,” June 18, 1980). But it took me quite a while to understand the futility of all attempts to bring it to life outside of the tribe, the mother of all communities (“On Primitive Communism,” May 7, 2013). As well as the inevitability of the eventual return of the human species to the primordial bliss (“What is to Be Done?” July 25, 2014). But I will witness it only in thought, for the collective return will take centuries. Whence a dash of envy toward Odysseus of old, whose luck remains unsurpassed to this day. Mythical to boot, his return is but a dream for mere mortals.