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I experience something similar from time to time - not a sense of repulsion but a sense that I am just reading the same repetitive thing over and over again, nuanced in various ways, but the same thing nonetheless, and that I need to stop reading it and focus completely on what's going on under my nose - a return to real mindfulness, "not dependent on words and letters"

A chisel?

I saw the mouse again last night, it was making its way rapidly along the plint in the living room. The varmint! He is giving me unpleasant dreams…

I bought a coconut!

I managed to get the coconut-water out, it is very delicious!

I did not manage to break the coconut to get to the coconut-meat! I banged for ages with both a knife and a hammer but without success.

Any ideas?

Hard to say really, a few thoughts come to mind though.

Its likely something that has been building up. It could be an emotion from elsewhere in your life that is bleeding over. It says more about your particular relation with spirituality, or these forms of spirituality, than spirituality itself. I've learned from Acceptance and Commitment Therapy and taking cold showers that doing things you find valuable and beneficial even when you don't feel emotionally motivated to do so has value.

What do you think it means, this mood? I very rarely have feelings of this type, once every half decade or so, and I think they are significant. A sense of dissatisfaction, repulsion, almost disgust can be a kind of sickness, I think it would be wise to pay attention.

This morning I woke up with a deep sense of dissatisfaction over all things spiritual. I often do my meditation in the morning, but today I did not feel like it at all. Maybe it was the dream I had (about trying to catch a group of mice and hamsters with my bare hands) but even reading spiritual books made me feel repulsed.

I tried thinking of Papaji, of Nisargadatta, of Osho, and none of it felt like it was of any worth. It was as if in the night there I had communed with some deep part of myself, and it had told me, these things were not proper guides. And there was an emotional reaction on my part, I believed and actually felt something real about this.

Once someone in a similar mood went to see Nisargadatta, and he said it was a valuable state in which deep work could be done. Oh the irony, that a valueless piece of writing should be giving me advice.