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From Denny: Today there was an online conversation with fellow poets about the subject of muses. Some had them; some didn't. All the muses seemed to be female in gender.
Several of the poets were lamenting how life's little distractions get in the way when inspiration pays an unannounced visit. They were frustrated of how many interruptions they experienced every time they tried to revisit the inspiration and write, only for that awesome inspiration to fade quickly.
We have all experienced moments like this. For creative people it's especially difficult because we can grasp the importance of what we were offered and it too quickly slipped away, seemingly elusive.
What a lot of people are unaware of, and our inspirational muses are trying to tell us, is that these moments are actually spiritual moments. The way to interact with those moments successfully is to develop a discipline of cultivating them.
Well, just how do you go about developing this discipline? When inspiration knocks on your inner door just make a mental note of where you left off when the interruption occurred so you can return to that moment. What is happening here is that it is lucid dreaming or a waking vision where your spirit is talking clearly to your waking mind - and your waking mind is aware of this conversation.
Pelikan fountain pen by David Blackwell @ flickr
A quick mental note of how you feel in the moment and maybe scribble a couple of words or phrases down on a piece of paper ( heck, the wall will do when the inspiration is fading fast - you can paint over it later). This hand-mind coordination works together to help your memory so you can regroup later and return to the inspiring moment. It's just like returning to a room you left a few moments ago.
The mind can be trained to remember your dreams, your waking visions, your inspirations. It just takes time to train yourself. Develop the structure, the obvious cues for you. For instance, always using the same pen and notebook. You could try always writing in the same place like a corner of the kitchen or your bedroom. The goal is to create familiarity and comfort which, in turn, will stimulate your memory to flow quickly and easily.
It will take a few times, maybe months, depending upon how much you practice to develop this discipline. If you practice it every day for a few minutes at the same time of day and place you will develop the habit rapidly and easily. A little bit of constant effort to create your best structure you respond well to is well worth the time to capture inspiration sublime!
As to the subject of gender for muses, well, mine has always been male. And this guy can get downright demanding and a bit of a pest at times. :) Of course, the crazy spiritual relationship with this spiritual energy is well worth it for what I've learned about the spiritual world and myself over time.
This is an amusing poem I wrote in response to a writers group recording their muses. They were all romantic and serious and my account was quite different - a bit shocking for some - for I recorded reality as I live it: always with a wry grin.
Toggling between this waking world
And the world of dreams symbolic
Sheets, those delicious summer skimmers
Glide as bodies turn side to side in repose
Softly, the growing silence
Easily falling down to fade
Comes an unwelcome startling voice
Eyes closed tight, tighter
Face grimacing a frown
*Wake up!* that voice insistent, repeats
Ascending the dark stairway of knowledge
Rubbing my inner mind’s eye
Flinging open the huge door to light
Asking an irritated *What?!*
About to fall teetering backward
Into the comforting quiet dark
*Write it down* he says
*Now?* comes the complaint:
*It’s the middle of the night!*
Aware it’s a losing battle
Dutifully returning to the waking world of dark
Reaching out, fingers fumbling for bedside notebook and pen
Scribbling on lines overrun from hands half asleep
Too large is the messy handwriting
Next morning tough to decipher
Words tumble down onto paper out of the inner dark
That vast library of knowledge, universal to all
Opening the heavy tall thick door
Written words enter, marching out onto now
The waking world bathed still in eerie moonlight
Fulfilled the bleary-eyed scribe’s task
Tumble backward to welcoming sleep
Covers pulled high over weary, oh, so tired, body
Descending the long narrow stairway
The loving library of inner knowledge
Infinity to yet explore
Artifacts of knowing to drag home
And leave quietly on some welcoming doorstep
Copyright 22 June 2008
All rights reserved
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