Making Space

It was a question that first began hounding my consciousness during an English class last year. The class was beautifully intense and more lovely than words could describe. I wanted to be in the kind of learning environment that made me feel like my head was going to explore from the sheer weight of my own thoughts blending with what we were learning and my wish was fulfilled. At last. So, as the semester progressed, I realized yet again something that I had learned from my own writing endeavors over the years: that the Muses come when they wish. I knew they were a particular lot, only appearing at the party when they wanted to-- and usually fashionably late at that.

Lightning doesn't usually strike twice, but I was fortunate to take another English class this Spring that built on the foundation of last year's inspiration. The reading selections were some of the most engaging I've had and the weekly writing assignments tempted the Muses to reveal their new talents. But, about five weeks into the semester, the Muses performed their parlor trick: a disappearing act. I had a dialogue with my professor about how to entice the Muses to show up to the dance not just on occasion, but every single time. I've always possessed the kind of personality that lends itself to home runs or nothing at all. I would rather hit my target or just hang out in the grass meandering around, exploring what's around me. My professor offered wise insight-- that is may be impossible to create from that deep space of inspiration every single time, but it is our task to create the space, to create the kind of life that the Muses want to visit. Since then, in every way possible I have been seeking to make my spirit, my body, my home, my life the kind of space where inspiration wants to be. I've always thought that as creative beings we are vessels anyway. It is never really fully just about us-- that's narcissism.  True creation is taking part of the world, some energy from somewhere else, allowing it to blend with you whether through intellect or emotion and letting it flow forward through you through the expression of choice-- art, writing, music, dance. . .

My life has had a plentiful dose of irony for a long time, but it's interesting to me that while my health has been at a particularly stubbornly low point, my creative drive and willingness to bring my talents forth into the world has never been stronger. Perhaps, I just got close enough to the point where I had lost so much-- my life as I knew it, my health, my financial stability-- that I no longer had anything to lose by doing what I came here to do.

I don't know if the Muses will forever honor my request of their presence in my life, but I know that I've set the table and I'm keeping a light on inside for them. And if there's a heaven, I'm pretty sure it has a lot of books and maybe even an English class or two.