Have you met your muse? Is yours anything like any of the nine muses described in Greek Mythology? Does she kiss you on the forehead? Does she dance by the sea in a pale blue dress? Does she whisper in your ear or shout from the rooftop? Or is your muse male. Stephen King says his is.
You can find one of my favorite descriptions of the muse in William Stafford’s poem, “When I Met My Muse,” which starts:
I glanced at her and took my glasses
off–they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent.
The presence of Stafford’s muse vibrates throughout this short poem. His muse says, “I am your own way of looking at things. When you allow me to live with you, every glance at the world around you will be a sort of salvation.”
The poem ends gracefully, “And I took her hand.”
What has your muse told you? Does she live inside you? Have you taken her hand?
More
- Susan Gilbert’s moving Ted Talk, “The elusive creative genius“
- When I Met My Muse by William Stafford