Tead I was thinking about your comment about how we are all driven to seek comfort. I can't go back and reread to see if you even said 'driven' or not. Or re-read Graytail's post that you were replying to.
Anyway, if I have it right what you said...
In a way that makes total sense but in another way it's sort of meaningless, or a conundrum - because to be driven is itself a state of discomfort. Are we really driven to reach a state where we are not driven anymore? I'm not so sure. I think for the most part we humans are much more disposed to be thrashing around on a journey than we are to be relaxing at the peaceful destination. We are much more driven to seek comfort than we are to possess it. Those two words 'seeking' and 'comfort' are almost mutually exclusive states anyway. For all the seeking and striving that the billions of us engage in, in the name of comfort, I'm sure seeing a lot more of the first one than the second. But then existence on earth is really such a crazy seething mass, such a life and death daily struggle for every life form, why would we ever expect to be comfortable for very long? It would go against everything.
It really seems like almost all of the magic of life dwells in the first word. The magic of existence is on the edge, in the struggle. And it shows more in the eyes of people living close to that edge than it does in the ones living the alleged suburban dream.
Without getting totally autobiographical I wouldn't be at all surprised to find that I've spent more time alone than anyone on this forum, as I grew up in a truly remote wilderness with a small family. Raised by wolves pretty much. Back in those days not only was there a lot more wilderness in northern BC and the Yukon, but there were also more bush rats. That's a way of life that's really been lost. Guys that would head out bush for the winter with a bunch of dried beans and a rifle, a big packsack full of gear, spend the winter out there prospecting or running a trapline,and emerge in the spring.
We were a little less solitary then the true hermits. We were a family for starters. Bush planes would bring supplies and luxuries like fresh produce for us a couple times over the winter.
Everyone in the north monitored the radio at nights and there was a community sort of feeling that way, listening to conversation of people we didn't know, even though geographically we were so far apart over frozen mountain ranges that we may as well have been living on separate planets. Some people went crazy. There were some funny stories. And some not so funny.
Since coming out of that existence into the real world I've lived in all sorts of situations including some large cities. But I've also done quite a few bush care-taking gigs and all sorts of bush trips that involved being away from people for many weeks at a time. I don't think I've gone much more than a month without some sort of human contact. I knew bush dwellers that spent whole winters by themselves and seemed to be at peace with it. I'm not one of those guys. I get bushed after a while.
A long bunch o blather. But the point is to say to Graytail's question. Yes and no. We definitely exist without other people around to bounce off of. But differently, and probably not sustainably. It's not really a natural state for us. It's a different existence when I spend a lot of alone time. I think I become much more like a deer or some other animal. Thoughts are simpler and often more repetitive or slow, and existence is a minute to minute state of planning and contemplation.
Almost all the things that preoccupy me in the 'real world' just don't apply any more. All that applies is existing and getting to your next destination, feeding yourself and staying warm and dry. Everything gets stripped down. You usually start talking to yourself and to birds and squirrels. (Well I still do that anyway). And in the end- you will never have anything much concrete to show for your time, by 'real world' standards. Unless you follow a certain trend and write a book called 'my time in the wilderness' or some such crap, you'll only come out of it with your memories and probably some scars. No house, car, relationships, material goods, best selling albums, or anything else to impress the other humans with. Because that's just the sort of existence it is.
Someone once posed the question to me, when I was young and even more clueless
If I was stranded on a desert island for a couple years with just my guitar, would I come out of it an amazing player? At the time I said ' hell yeah!' Now I realize that I was totally wrong and there's no way I would play much. Not only would there be no way to learn with no feedback, it would just be totally pointless with no ears but mine to hear. I'd just disassemble that guitar to use for more practical stuff.
To be continued later cause my tiny brain is shorting out.
You've come along right at a slow time, Smeegol, the next few weeks in particular. I don't have much left in flowering, and shrinking each week as I wait for the vegging ones to grow a little more before flowering. 
I had already gone out and brought a new one... which I'll happily give you, it's an Android phone, I've realised I've only ever had iPhones and as much as I dislike being brand loyal, I hate learning pointless bullshit when I could just get what I know