Because muse can hang around as much as much as muse wants, but it doesn't help me if I don't open myself up to her (I like to think of my muse as female since I am female). Sometimes I think of her as a word witch, a being who conjures up words for me.
Muse has also helped me knit, make collages and bead bracelets and necklaces. The truth, however, is that, except for writing and some knitting, I seem to have stopped inviting muse in for a chat, for inspiration. The writing seems lately to focus mostly on the blog. I have stopped writing poems inspired by the meditation images in my book. Let alone poems in general.
There are times that muse sneaks up on me to provide the needed spark if I have my barriers down. A poem came to me fully written once in the middle of the night. Another came to me just as I was going to sleep. Then there are the novel plot lines that show up, even though I swear I will never write a novel. I have written about this before here and here.So, what happens is that I find other things to do, ignore the fact that muse is sitting right next to me, probably sighing or holding her head in her hands. I suppose it's up to me to figure out why I've somehow decided to limit the inspiration that muse can give me, how to get out of my own way. It's good to have boundaries to protect myself, but this borders on the ridiculous if it's not outright so.
The first photograph is by Jan Kahanek. The second is by Mervyn Chan. I found both on unsplash.com.
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