It's hard to manage the squirreling of the mind, to get the nut without inhibiting the necessary search.
There's also a lot happening on the street, interesting but distracting stuff, as well as the necessary thngs to keep track of, like the cars coming up and down, barreling like bullets.
It's a wonder anything but just being around gets done. Or perhaps, you must think of what you're doing as part of just being around. Perhaps it is a necessary part and perhaps it is a chance event, that depends on your theology.
In my own personal sense of how the world work and what God and gods might do, if they in fact "are," stipulating right up front that they couldn't be the same way I be, or they wouldn't be gods at all. It would just be me, impersonating a god that I had made up entirely, or with help ... And that sentence was going where? According to me, I don't do this because I must, exactly, but because I want to, but wanting in this way is part of who I am, and includes a good measure of must-ness to it. Even if I were doing something different, it would be -- if observed from an appropriate distance -- not just appear, but would in fact, be, the same thing exactly.
I think Robert Duncan said something like this, let me check Mr. WWW on that .... hmm, nothing. But there was this lovely little lyric that will do for now.
Neither our vices nor our virtues
further the poem. "They came up
just like they do every year
on the rocks." The poem
feeds upon thought, feeling, impulse,
to breed itself,
a spiritual urgency at the dark ladders leaping.