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� 2001-2006 by Shiloh
times since Oct. 22, 2001
Muse of Unorthodox Creative Writing
01-27-2005 E 4:07 p.m.
*breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly, I sit quietly for a moment or three, trying consciously to relax my tense muscles*

Muses are elusive beings; with an ancient wisdom they are arbitrary at times, cryptic, irreverant and have an itinerary all of their own. They don't care if, you the mere mortal, are ready for them or not. They come when they come and inspire you however they wish. Sometimes they are crystal clear, and sometimes they make you work out your own inspiration, leaving you with only a glimpse or hint of what they see.

For more than a week now, I have heard and felt my own Muse calling. While her voice is as gentle and soft as a whisper on the wind drifting toward me, her pull has been quite strong, stirring a desire in my soul to face her, to meet her, to get to know her well for the first time in my life. She has been with me since my discovery and delight in writing my first play as a child. She's fueled my imagination, guided my hand in writing a few poems, inspired me with the right words for essays and led me to places or things that have awakened my creativity.

Such as this mine at Soul Food Cafe. I thank her, this nameless, faceless muse and am lucky to have her as mine. She's been with me for so long, and she has been patient, far longer than I could ever be. Not once has she asked for recognition or sought credit where it was due; not once has she expected a thank you in return or gotten one...till now. She knows I am ready to acknowledge her at last, to invoke her and seek her out. She knows I hear her, feel her and is ready to guide me and be a partner in my endeavors. I believe I was led to the mine, in part, to meet her, that part of this preparation in mining is really a quest to find her, to understand her as well as myself.

And for more than a week now, I have tried answering her call. But I failed each attempt. Well, perhaps not necessarily failed them, but have come across detours instead, blocking off unsafe or caved-in shafts of the mine. I have tried a couple of exercises in preparation, but part way through on each, a detour has directed me either to the left or right. Sometimes I've even had to choose as shafts opened on either side. The exercises will eventually come to light as gold nuggets or gold dust, but for now, I will follow the detours and see where they lead me.

She still calls me, my Muse. She knows of my efforts and knows I'll eventually find her in her magnificent cavern, whether it be underground or in a cave somewhere, or some place totally unexpected. She has the patience (as mentioned before)...and the wisdom to let me find her as I will, following whatever path is necessary. Learning whatever I need to to fully understand her, and myself, so that by the time we come face-to-face I will know her as well as I know myself.

She is a different muse, this one. My personal one, I'd like to think. Not one of the nine born to Mnemoysne, but perhaps a cousin. A daughter of Zeus or Apollo, born to a mortal princess in the Age of Gods and Goddesses. I don't know much about her yet, not her name, not her background or what she looks like, nor even what type of literature she is over. All I know is it's mine. Whatever my forte is. I'm not much of a poet, I can't rhyme. I'm not really lyrical, and I've never written a saga. I'm not an historian either or much of a record keeper, but I love history. And fantasy. I seem to write best when using my inventive imagination or when I write about personal experiences. I'm an unorthodox journalist, who likes painting a full picture for her readers' imaginations, instead of sticking to the bare minimum of details. *wry smile* I guess that would make her the Muse of Unorthodox Creative Writing, yes?

I kinda like that.

What I do know of her I know because of her past gentle influence and help through the years. I know she is kind, intelligent, playful, patient, insistent, fiesty, and for her...nothing is impossible. This is going to be one heck of a quest, and in the end I know we'll be great friends. I can't wait to meet her, my Muse, and have this conversation I know is coming about creativity, about my soul and hers.

I'm coming, Muse. Just keep calling; keep guiding and I'll get there. Eventually.


..:: Remembered�����E�����Occuring ::..

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