Asked what I would rather spend my time on....
I was thinking of reading Le Carré, for example (rather than Connelly), simply loving my neighbors and, as much as possible, being "sapienter si sincere" (wisely, if sincerely) toward my enemies—without, that is, roiling about in more and more pointless-seeming "theologizings." That's all I was feeling. I was feeling that continuing to ride rollercoasters and go around and around the track was...unproductive. Maybe, instead, I would "go subliminal" (nonverbal), say nothing (to borrow from Wittgenstein) whereof we may not speak (speak coherently, sensibly).
Oh, maybe now and then cry out in a poem. Praise, perhaps. Lyrics, pæans, strophes.
Blessed relief! Ah, the sun, the wind!
Birdsong!
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