There is some general mental fatigue. The last six or seven months or so have been nothing less than an attempt to erase or eliminate me, although it's almost certain that the agents and authors of it were simply incorporeal fates, spirits, what you will, or, more likely, simply chance.
But having emerged from the dark forest of an extraordinarily difficult season, the first concern is not necessarily tracing the lines of accountability. The dark forest (which is the northern city in winter) as dark forest exerts a more palpable influence on one's being than the dark forest considered as the tool of forces, fates or folks who wish us ill. The experience governs.
There are rifts in the mental focus, some soreness in the limbs, and an odd physical thing or two. But, more importantly, there is an abyss now, at least in my mind between the indolent, easygoing folks and those who try to be more deliberate about things. Walking among some of these folks, I find it hard to see much virtue in what they are, absent their empirical abilities. And our empirical tasks will end someday, and the more general disposition will be dispositive. But I'm not here to judge them, except to prevent myself from imitating their ways.
It seems odd that the first impulse after a season of extraordinary difficulty is to run off to the desert or climb to the top of a pillar, but it does have this effect. One wonders why the common things are so evil.
Apparently a big fight to be staged at the White House tonight, and some small riots in midtown after the basketball game yesterday.
It's that point in the journey, perhaps, when you look around the ship, wondering if there's a capable navigator aboard.