his, from another spot on this site, says it all for the day:

Okay, politics, as I’ve said, gets in my blood. It is seriously like alcohol or a drug to me, getting me riled up, getting my blood moving, my adrenaline flowing.

Like drugs, it may feel nice, but it’s not good for my soul.

Why? Because it is not who I am supposed to be. Politics is a wonderful field, full of interesting arguments and positions of vital importance. But it is not for me.

I am not called to the political arena and am not called to weigh in with partisan rhetoric.

Like drugs there will be a withdrawal.

This week I waded back into this world, with thoughts I earnestly believe, and could easily encourage.

But this leads me away from who I am supposed to be.

I moved to here from Pasadena because I did not want to live the usual life of working to pay bills, to impress others through the sacrifice of my own soul, and live a life devoid of eternal perspective.

I came up here because I tasted of the mountain air, I listened to the voice of the trees, I filled my nostrils with the scents of the forest and the sounds of the birds and knew that my soul resides where life is full, where the Spirit abounds in manifold witness to the wonders of the Triune God.

When I turn my eyes, even to something good, my soul emaciates.

So, I turn them back now. And will seek to make this again that which I originally planned. My voice is not of politics, but of spiritual things, where the unseen and the seen mingle in a wild dance, sometimes graceful, sometimes chaotic.

I’ll keep up my own goings-on, but in referring to that which matters I will tie it in with a spiritual thought or concern. That is my role, my contribution.

Countless voices speak as I did this week. There does not need to be more. Few look above and beyond, letting the eyes be only one way of seeing, and the ears become only a part of hearing. The soul speaks and listens, the spirit within rises up and seeks a word or two.

I’ve tasted again of this brew which tantalizes while it dulls. It lulls and mars. I again seek the sweet amrita. Once tasted, it never relents.