I've got nada. Nothing. Zilch. Zip. At least right now I do. I wanna write. I honestly do. I wanna write something profound, meaningful, witty. But time's running out and, like last time I'm a blank.

Well, perhaps I'm not giving myself--or more accurately, my muse--credit. Or being completely honest with myself or with you. Now that I've started writing I realize, and remember, there is any number of stuff to write about, like the strange, disturbing dream I had two nights ago. Or any one of the pieces I mentioned in the last entry. And a thought inspired by rewatching Under the Tuscan Sun again with Mom.

And another thought occurred to me just now. Finding my muse. Writing is all about that. Expressing your inner voice or self, sometimes creatively, sometimes seriously and soulfully. The Muse is stressed often over at the Soul Food Café. We are urged there to find our muse, to let her/him out, to get to know her/him intimately. And by better knowing our muses, we better know ourselves. I made it--or rather, it sort of naturally happened that way--the purpose of my quest in the Alluvial Mine...the "Search for Eldorado." I verbally decided (I think) in one of my Mine pieces that I was going to seek out my muse, get to know her and see what she has to say, or what she'd have me write.

Perhaps I should descend again into the mine, picking up my tools and lantern and resume seeking the gold vein I know is there somewhere in a tunnel. Resume heeding the soft call of my muse, who knows of my frustration at the inability to write something of substance. Who wishes me to come to her, to know her as I know my friends, my family. Perhaps if I take a deep breath and heed her I'll be able to get past this block and find the passion for the pieces I have yet to give a voice to and the ones that will hopefully come.

It's late. I must go.

moon phase