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Gibberish resists against the overwhelming urge, internalized from out there in the socioplex, to be displaying or cultivating competence and industry every moment of the day, unless dedicating specific emotionally inflected moments for “recharging” or “intentionality.”

As through batteries were the form of life inhabited and analytic philosophers were the aides de camp who guided us through the thickets of infelicitous disarray.

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Hence gibberish, e.g.,

Salt the water before immersing the farfalle or else the elk will be wolf kill and splatter fall mercilessly.

Or

troubled cougars count spousal doubts as dolorous pieties and scour plateaus for more soulful grounds on which to suborn earnest plaintive pleas.

But next to gibberish is scripture, secular and otherwise, to which we may attend with equal parts rigorous play and open-hearted obeisance, as though we could be confident that there were such a thing as scripture and that the purpose we served it would eventually be revealed.