A Musing

I seem to have lost my muse. Has anyone seen her? She used to live alongside all my thoughts, but I think she got bored and went away. I don’t blame her. I am boring myself these days. I think the loss of personal connection has something to do with it. The muse lives in the energy of presence and she is reflected in the way our thoughts arise when flavored by poetry and music. Maybe she is just waiting for me to rediscover her in other ways, to hear her whispering in some quiet hidden location.

Of course, nature provides the muse with a haven, protecting her from the harshness of some human activities. I see her peeking out from a patch of wildflowers or sitting on a rock where she looks much like a bright splash of lichen. She dances in the wind and enjoys wild rides on dust devils, all the while calling to me through quivering branches of sage. The muse evokes the best qualities from any life she touches, but she immediately disappears if they are too afraid to discover their real value.

I think this is happening a lot these days. People are fearful and angry. This is too harsh an environment for the muse to appear. She is tired of divisive discourse and the self-absorbed blindness that ignores the well being of others. The muse needs kind and loving conditions in which to grow and thrive. She requires us to be more patient and inclusive. We really need her wisdom now, and must work to make her feel welcome again.

Today, I think I saw the muse hiding in the scarlet gilia growing in our back yard. I wasn’t sure. But the hummingbirds seemed to notice, as they sipped her nectar from deep inside the trumpet-like throats of each blossom. I wish I could do that. A metaphor is not so sweet as the real thing.

Near your breastbone there is an open flower.
Drink the honey that is all around that flower.
— Kabir

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