Segueing along, let's say I am a fermentation vat and from time to time a bubble arises from below, breaks my surface with a "boing" and produces a spreading ring that lasts a while. The vat doesn't know when the bubble is going to break out and can't stifle it. Like Athena the bubble emerges in its own time ruffles the surface and thereby is part of the fermentation. The quality of the product is left to the taste of the tasters.
The random harvest of thoughts that arise "de novo" ; grasped at and scribbled about, without questioning the timing of the birth process, and without stifling yourself, is therapy of a sort, like accepting a quizzical stroll through your head. It may be there is a lot to see there, but it only shows itself to you when it will. Like Zeus I probably have eaten a lot of stuff in my life that is still waiting around to be reborn but I may be too thick skulled to let it out of the top of my head. I long to empty myself, but wait for the bubble to break the surface: wait for Athena , Goddess of Wisdom to appear, since I lack control. It is intriguing to guess what the muse will say next. Constipated notwithstanding, I am content to sit on the stoop and wait for it.