Humans are simple. There, I said it. I’ll wait for the silent chiding. Seriously, go ahead. I’m counting in my head, but I’ll write it too, seeing as these words are our only link … one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi. Okay, I hope that was long enough. Now, hear me out. I don’t mean ‘simple’ objectively, if that adverb can even be used to modify a concept as relative as simplicity. The very language itself is complex, so that the second you have used your words to simplify something, then you have made it complex. And therein lies our problem. Humans are simple, but the word ‘human’ is complex. What exactly are we calling a human? And the complexity comes rushing in. So that a man given enough time with himself, will start to call himself by various names, and in doing so, build up his ego into a castle that is impossible for another human to penetrate with understanding, at least not in the same terms of which it was constructed. So that a man, coming to know himself, makes himself less knowable to others. Similar to how a professor, as he delves deeper into the knowledge of his field, limits the population of others who are apt to engage in conversation with him on topics of said field. A man with friends, therefore, is often a simple man, who has developed the habit of thinking more of others, and not so deeply about himself.