Dear Nikola,

Thank you for your letter. I hope your colitis symptoms have abated. My own gastrointestinal system also has its ups and downs, I suppose as side-effects of the medication I take to try to control my arthritis; but I don't really know. 

On account of imagination poverty, I haven't tried to push ahead with my writing.  I proposed to invent a conflict among the Olympian gods, blaming each other for the mess on earth, and thereby creating problems of their own above the timber line.  But my acquaintance with the Olympians is too limited and too superficial for me to invent the required theo-psychology. But I keep looking.

Meanwhile, I've been engaging in imaginary conversations with Ernst Cassirer, (1884-1945) a German-Jewish Kantian neo-idealist, whom I suspect also of being a neo-scholastic, since I think I discern a proclivity to rely, as the fountain of thought, on words rather than (subjective) experience.  I've been looking at his account of Leibniz, and concurrently reading volume one, about language, of his three volumes on the Philosophy of Symbolic Forms, of which, volume two, about myth, I previously read in an English translation.  Volume one, about language, I'm now reading in the original, in a remarkable jpg reproduction online. I've discovered at
https://archive.org
e.g.
https://archive.org/details/philosophieders00cass/mode/2up
a treasure trove of books I've always wanted to read, which are now accessible on the screen at high magnification which is easy on my eyes and soothing for my brain.

One focus of my scepticism about Cassirer is his uncritical reliance on the numerous exhibits of cultural anthropology published in Germany, and to a lesser extent in England, between 1830 and 1914, the heyday of European colonialism.  It appears the academics didn't want to be excluded from the colonial frenzy.  They proved themselves to be the ultimate racists as they exploited their access to the natives by studying indiginous languages and religions as grist for Darwinist satanic mills. Cassirer, is seems, endorses and quotes uncritically all accounts that came across his desk, of languages which he could never hope to speak, of myths which would never keep him awake.

I wish I could find the philosopher's stone on which I could calibrate the depth at which my criticisms well from envy.

I hope that by the time this reaches you, you will feel much better.

EJM