Every so often, I feel like I've thought of something important. I try to write it down but know that I'm not getting at its essence. I'll write profusely about it from as many angles as I can think of, summarize it, put it in layman's terms, draw pictures of it. I'll leave myself important reminders that—being in a particular state of mind seem perfectly reasonable—only to see those reminders slowly lose their significance.
In just three or four days, I can feel myself slipping away off of it unable to hold on to the idea in its purity. I may nibble at the edges for a few days more and then, frankly, I get discouraged and leave it.
I am beginning to believe these kinds of ideas are not wholly intellectual. Other parts of me participate in their emergence and eventual decline: mood and emotions, environmental sounds, smells, and light, some have distinctly ethereal spiritual influences which are even less repeatable.
I keep applying the intellectual tools that I know can work in that domain, into this undiscovered domain. I know it's not working well, but I don't know what else to do.
When I'm fortunate, some of the ideas come back to me months or years later. I'm even more fortunate when I can find my earlier notes and they begin to make sense again. I feel like I can push that Sisyphean stone one more time and maybe it will stay put this time.