When I'm really ready to write about something it just flies out of me. I can't stop the words from spilling onto the page. Writing, I admit, can be like bleeding.
But sometimes it isn't. Sometimes the words don't come out. Sometimes I don't really know how to think about what I want to think about. Sometimes I experience a big tangle of problems, and I am incapable of pulling them apart.
Sometimes I just can't think clearly!
That is how I'm feeling right now. I had intended to finish my essay 'Nihilism, Magic, and Amusement' tonight. But the final section is giving me a lot of trouble. I'm sitting here trying to wrap my head around it. But I can't.
What I'm trying to do is explain why we need to reacquaint ourselves with aesthetic and magical forms of experience. I'm trying to explore why it is that nihilistic culture can only be overcome if we can recover those forms of experience.
The task is properly Collingwoodian: It is to recover a unity of mind that was lost with the creation of modern disciplines.
This is something that needs to take place both for individuals and for communities.
I have all these ideas. My head is dense with them. I can feel them weighing on me.
But I can't seem to pull them apart. I can't form a coherent line of thinking about this idea. I can only wrestle with the fog.