Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Chooses Muses Loses Blues(es)

People who hear voices-- saints, writers and the occasional mental patient- are frequently disarmed by prolonged silence (in their heads at least). This loss is occasionally expressed by a romantic homage to the Ancient Greeks with the phrase, "I've lost my Muse."

Generally my philosophy in life is to accept responsibility for everything which comes my way. Or, let's just fix this and we can dissect it when it's safely behind us. This isn't a formula for success, mind you. However, I'm fully aware of this and blame no one but myself.

That said, I introduce you to Calliope, pictured crudely just above. Calliope is the Muse of Eloquence and Epic Poetry. While I've never considered her to be my Muse, I do find the idea of her to be inspiring. As a fairly outgoing individual I prefer the society of real friends over that of the imaginary. That and the fact that whenever I see the name, Calliope, I hear circus music (yes, it's a link).

When I read my blogs from days gone by (I've not written a proper entry for far too long), I am reminded of the specific friends who were there for the digital inscription either in reality or in spirit. I remember the edits. I recall the laughter. I feel the love.

"I've lost my Muse," I mumbled many moons as my melancholy mantra, thus mourning my Museness mislaid and I endeavored, as any responsible individual would, to build a better musetrap in the hope of reuniting with my Muse-- hitherto, without success.

Then, it struck me. I have no Muse. I have Muses! (or, is it Mice?)

I know so many lovely, loving, extraordinary people and I carry a little bit of each of them inside me. They are the smooth stones we pick up and drop in our pockets somehow knowing that they're too special to simply skip across the lake. Fascinating. Reassuring. Inspiring!

You are the children of Zeus and Mnemosyne! You are the voices in my head. In my heart. The Music in my laughter. This isn't something I can ever lose. And, I accept full responsibility for losing sight of that!

2 comments:

Iain blair said...

Can the voice inside your head for me be played by, Rupert Everett. Becarful the muse doestn get loose in your House.

Anonymous said...

E pluribus unum.