the muses

I was gonna sit straight and do my writing seriously, but there is a thing that tackles my mind for some time, and it’s much more itching than writing my not-so-secret-sci-fi novella. Yes, this idea evolved from a short story to old, good “too little words, cannot handle”. Anyway, there are so many weird thoughts that get at you when you cannot get yourself back to writing track, you know. All the thoughts like, have I washed the dishes, turned off the oven and, my last favorite: I wonder, how do the Muses look like? And, even more important is, how do people imagine their muses to look like? Or, why?

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Yes, it is already THIS hour in my mind. You are welcome.

So, probably, the first thing that comes to you is guurl, just go to a Museum or hit the Wikipedia if you want to see how people imagine them. The problem with this approach is that it is totally the opposite of my point. We already know Raphael’s or Le Sueur’s vision. [Yes, I did opened the Wikipedia after all.] Hell with that, we even know how they would look like in Disney. This is not interesting. What is, instead, is the fact that some kind of materialized artistic inspiration has been humankind’s companion for centuries, regardless of whether they were hanging around in fancy togas or, idk, praying in churches (say hello to Holly Spirit) or digging their modern noses in psychology books.

I am not a pioneer when it comes to imagining my own Muse. Probably it is some kind of a fancy dressed, sleek woman of fabulous hair and splendid jewelry, who sits somewhere around and stares at myself writing/editing/drinking 4th coffee, with a very bored but sympathetic look on her face. Though, it does not mean in any case that this is the thing that get me going. People do. People are stories. Stories are the best catalyst for storytelling.  And what I know about other people for sure, is that all of them got inspired in a different way – that is why we have so many kinds of music/books/tv shows. So, the thing that gets me thinking is not really about what makes one more inspired, but how does one personify this set of triggers.

I mean, is there anyone on the planet that believe that their Muse is a dinosaur? Who would not like to get their inspiration broadcasted by a charming, bloody T-Rex? And why not a deer or Walt Whitman? To be honest, I would not like to imagine the last one sitting in my bedroom, observing my writing process. Moreover, I believe, all of those are easy choices. Why not a talking poster or a coffee machine? It is surprisingly hard to imagine a Muse of whatever you do, as a thing. It may not be impossible, though. Maybe for song writers their tools are their Muses already and they do not imagine much more than simply looking at their instrument.

This leaves me with nothing but to wonder, why do people are tend to imagine their muses as other human beings that much. Not if there was anything wrong with it. Maybe there is some very lonely vibe in the process of creation that makes us starve for a little company. Even though, as I remember, there is not much people who like to create things being constantly distracted by others. Might be as well that it is much easier to pin our failure or laziness on another human-like creature. It is easier to have silent days with a Muse than a coffe machine-Muse, after all.

I guess.

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