My muse is a nasty bitch sometimes.
She's a wrathful, intimidating, prying whirlwind of a "thing...." who both wants to scream her head off until her throat bleeds and just as stubbornly withholds inspiration from me. She's fickle and capricious....she has too much to say and a million different ways of saying it, but if I ignore her she gives me the cold shoulder and turns mute. She locks up every word, sentence, and solution and gives me the silent treatment, coquettishly shaking her head "no" at me and pursing her lips, until I very deliberately coax her out her unreasonable stance and into a more fluid, compromising position (that sounds sexual? Maybe it is, fuck.) At this point we're dating and I'm failing her, because I keep promising her that I'll let her shine; then she calls, she politely asks for some attention and I tell her I'm "busy."
What exactly am I BUSY doing? What have I been soooo busy doing the last couple years that's made any sort of a difference in my life that doesn't involve her?
"HER." My muse. My beautiful, volatile, attention hungry muse.
The moments of pure contentment, where I felt grateful- in tune and empowered in my life, "she" has been present for. The ones where I'm drowning a slow death in a swimming pool full of tar generally have her tssking in the lifeguard chair saying, "I told you so...how's that tar?!"
So, yes, I'm busy doing "work." You know why I'm so busy doing "work," because I'm trying to work from a place of urgency, I'm working from a place of "a means to an end" and I'm doing all of it on an empty stomach. It's urgent that I finish what I need to get done, so that I can begin to do what actually needs to get done to make me happy....to put me in a place where I THRIVE.
What if I just did all of that in reverse?
What if instead, I made it my priority to START with the thing(s) I'm working so hard to END UP with? Not end, but end up with, as in acquire through "busyness" and effort.
Working with your muse is like attending Thanksgiving dinner (with stretchy waistbands, no calories and an empty dinner table, this particular feast is just for you) - you're feasting on the succulence a perfectly juicy word, a replenishing gulp of "Aha!" You're sinking your teeth into the flesh of an idea that's been marinated in time and introspection, roasting on hot coils of doubt and scrutiny- taking your tiny hand, you lift the meatiest part to your lips and dig your teeth in, ripping the the fat from the bone and digesting it. You process. You fill yourself, you indulge and then with a full belly of material to pull from, you go to "work."
Can you imagine how much better you would do your job if you were already filled the brim with the things that fuel your passion?
Your muse should stay FED. She's the life of the party, she's the one that kicks off her shoes and gets low on the dance floor and takes a shot with your Grandma (maybe that's not your muse, whatever, whoever that is- she's awesome)- she's the line that your friend needed to HEAR in a moment of turmoil. She's the one who taps you on the shoulder and whispers, "create something incredible.....because you can." Then, not so subtly there's times when she grabs your shoulders, digs her nails in and looks you square in the eye, and says, "Stop fucking around.....if you want to live greatly, you're going to have to take me along for the ride. The things that will bring you your perfect definition of success all involve ME- if I'm not in tow, you shouldn't even bother attending."
Just like I said before, committing to yourself also means turning AWAY from the dead end you're staring at and looking for the window- usually it's right next to us, we're just too fixated on trying to laser through something that's impenetrable.
I know for certain my Muse is a vibrant creature who likes a solid, hearty FEAST. She wants a slice of everything, on one plate- she wants to wipe the corners of her mouth with a silk napkin and take a swig of whatever life has served up, in a bedazzled goblet.
By denying her a table full of worthy indulgences, I deny myself the very reason for waking up in the morning.....
WHAT DOES YOUR "MUSE" NEED?