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“Try to hold you in bed you shrug away instead oh I don’t know why.” I found this song during a recent transition, and it’s stayed with me since. It fits so many moods — contentment, sadness, lonliness, morning, mourning, and moulting.
In a way, I’m forcing myself grow and improve, and this scares me. In the book my therapist recommended, it explains “Change requires willingness to experience pain”, and I’m going through this exactly. I’m constantly stepping out of my comfort zone, and at this point, it’s much more trepidation than excitement. It’d be so much easier to fall into old mental habits, as unhealthy as they are.
On mornings like this, I sit in my living room with the curtains open. It makes me self-conscious to be sitting there with houses across the street getting a clear view of me in my PJs and mussed up hair. But it reminds me that someone else is out there. That the world is full of life, and vibrancy, and people just like me.
The days move quickly. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind if spring came early this year. I’ve had my fill of the snow by now. Maybe I’m just looking for a change, something that isn’t the same Canadian winter that made our embraces that much warmer, when we weren’t finding comfort in mutual mugs of hot tea and duck-down duvets.
I’ve been feeling better lately. About life in general, but myself as well. I guess you could say I’ve stopped blaming myself, or wondering what I did wrong.
Sometimes, you care for someone so much and so often that it becomes a habit, long after their gone, regardless of what you’ve been through. At that point, it’s only hard to let go because you don’t want to. When you lose your muse, you lose your inspiration, and for someone like me, the soul begins to wither.
The days are definitely easier than the nights. When I wake up between 3–5 am, all these thoughts keep flooding back, as if my subconscious is doing the thinking I’ve been trying to avoid. But when the sun is on my face, I’m left feeling serene and uncarved.
The concept of a muse appeals to me, but I feel that that kind of externalization creates a dependency. Possibly even dualism. Maybe if you considered this from another angle. Visualize creativity as internal, much like Chi is internal — limitless. You might find that the manifestation of our creativity/chi in what we do makes us equally appreciate the provocation of our responses, whether that be a tub of jello or a worthy Wii opponent.
That’s an interesting idea. I’ve always believed there’s a dualism when it comes to the artist and his/her inspiration. Perhaps if I could transplant that inspiration or make it flexible and dynamic, the only thing I’d really be dependent on would be my own internal creativity.
the original sense of muse was something external which visits when the external energy chooses, and the creativity is not at its source in the artist, nor found at the discretion of the artist. you are the conduit, giving the time and space, but not the agency of creativity.
Ah, like the muses of Greek mythology. Interesting. It takes the responsibility of creating out of your hands, which makes me love and hate it simultaneously.