Musings

This morning I wished it would have just happened – overnight. As I opened my eyes I wanted to feel confident, and affirmed, as a professional writer.

Have you heard of that therapy exercise? The one that says overnight, while sleeping, what you have wished for has been granted. Yet when you wake the following morning, you are unaware of its happening. As you begin the day, what do you notice around you to indicate your desire has been conferred?

I would notice a feeling, or rather a silenced voice. Inside I would, no longer, hear that hard, condescending voice whispering, “Who are you kidding?” That would be it. Not much else would be different.

I would feel myself waking to a new day pondering my to dos, reading the thoughts the Muse woke me during the night to write and secure for the morning light. What would be different … I would sense, in the depth of my soul, my reason to be … to write; and know its accord with friends and family.

Finally, the tree that fell in the forest would have found its ear.

The Muse … most would say, is fickle. In unexpected ways, the Muse places a thought inside and you “get it.” However, if you do not grab it in that instant, write it down, draw an outline, set the notes, the spark fades, the remnants swirl back to the ether from whence they came. You are left with the faintest of wisps that something once was there. You regret the slight, promise the Muse it will not happen again, and audaciously think, for this often repeated promise, the Muse will reignite the thought. Hah! Fat chance!

This my friend is not the decorum of the fickle. There are three words I propose bare what others see as a wavering nature – dutiful, ardent, unequivocal. To begin – dutiful- for all the times I have and will promise to not let the thought fade back to the ether, the Muse returns with a new thought for me to explore. I am assured of that return … in time.

Ardent, whenever the Muse is present I feel the energy of the thought glowing between us. The Muse always shares the through with enthusiasm. It is I who stumble modeling it for presentation.

Most of all the Muse is unequivocal. The thought is clear before me until I cover it with my interpretation. And that is the unending discernment of our relationship, to align the Muse’s clear offering with the words I choose to represent the thought in this world.