Contemplative.
Sitting, still and just, the hard part may not be the answers that refuse to come, or the many that come but confuse the search. The questions themselves may be the problem. A question new and vital can often infuse the work, the writing, the wording. With writing contemplative this practice looms large and especially useful, and the writer need not be particularly skillful, yet trusting, faithful to the call of waiting, without waiting for anything particular.
An alternative question often presents itself, arising on its own at the precise point where the tension of the matter gets relaxed. So sitting in the quiet and doing nothing but watching and waiting, bearing the mantra: Nothing Doing, is a start. What to ask often comes from sitting quiet, no effort. Matters contemplative sit so fluid that the original question may even turn into another before an answer to the original is received. At other times, the question itself is more revealing and signifies more than any answer conceivable.
In the case under the looking glass, you might start by letting go of the question original, and letting a new question arise, thus, Does divinity dwell Anywhere? Everywhere? Nowhere? All three answers have been tried, in human history, like some search for a World Hero that has in the end to peter out because the models are too varied and the job too vast. So you try again, might God live in a place that's out of place to thinking, maybe to noticing? So long as you stress mindful thought over soulful contemplation, could you ever hope to find One Who Dwells Still Deeper Than Thought? Might sitting, and only just sitting, be a better way to get to The God Place, the very crossroads of the intimate and the ultimate?
