I’ve never enjoyed the company of a muse, nor not enjoyed for that matter. Some artists pray to them, cajole, beg. I’ve listened with interest, sometimes envy, over their solicitous muse.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, I have a narrator who accompanies me, although said narrator abandoned me for several years, perhaps out of annoyance or self-preservation or contempt when I faced dark times and no longer allowed it to speak.
Even when I was desperately seeking my narrator, wanting to hear that lyrical voice, it did not join me. I realized that I had to prove myself worthy. So I began writing again, without my narrator.
One afternoon in Spring I walked through the woods, listening to a chickadee when I heard the voice of my narrator creating a passage about the light dappled new leaves, and realized it was back. Perhaps I should have danced and thanked it, but I smiled and promised to listen.
Some people have a muse; I just hear voices.
end 8/3/2016
S. Darlington
This is a fantastic piece. It speaks to my own muse concerns. I dream the most lovely stories but fail to write or share them. To work without ease and rediscover lyrics in nature is beautiful.
Thanks. I like the idea of a muse. I don’t know that I believe in them, although lots of people do. Write your stories down and share them. My motto these days is: what do you have to lose? You might just find an audience you didn’t know you had. Best wishes.