It's not that complicated, really. Many philosophers have got it just about right. And not only philosophers who might have reasoned it out, pretty well, brandishing the sword of reason, and ruthless with it, but poets and adventurers too, and innocents who've stumbled into it, who have undoubtedly experienced something and are eager to share it with you. All their doctrines, reports, systems or just clever hints, their maps and markings, veritably glow with it. There's a particular tone that's easy to recognise, "the hum of your valvèd voice", what you've always known, vast tracts of childhood come into view, and you go darting after it, scenting prey and down the rabbit hole. Then there are so many twists, and the glow doesn't fade, (or does it get mixed up with other kinds of glow, a kaleidoscope of extraordinary motivations, straight from the heart) it's always just around the next corner, and you exhaust yourself without ever coming face to face with it. The thing that is not a thing keeps arising as a thing, the place that is not a place keeps arising as a place; you want to run through all of them, gather up a glittering treasure, feel you're getting somewhere at last. A life's work, a colossal waste of time.