Your Muse Wants You To Really Know Yourself.
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To be a writer is to be a lover.
You fall in love hard and fast, with the Muse, first and foremost. No other lover gets you the same way, no matter how sweet, how hungry, how satisfying.
This is a passionate and lonely life, to be a writer. You wander in and out of light and shadows, and learn how to conjure up the gold in all moments, no matter how fleeting.
You can only bear to spend some time with the rare few who are as feverishly alive, otherwise your writer’s heart gets tired and listless and craves freedom.
You get up in the middle of the night pulled by some unconscious longing. You reach for your pen and paper, and you keep going, until your eyes won’t open.
You talk to your Muse, you breathe into her, you wait for her to come to you when she is ready.
You know no matter how many miles and days of quiet go between you, she will eventually return to you with a breadth of inspiration, a note of sweetness.
If you chase after her, she only runs further away, playfully laughing at you in your moment of need.
But it doesn’t feel playful, it feels harsh, especially during those moments that you need her too much. To validate your existence, give you some kind of meaning.
Your Muse is a wild one. She does what she wants.
She laughs at your ego, and throws dried flowers at your pride.
She goes where she pleases.
You have no choice but to trust she will return.
So you just wait.
The waiting can be painful.
If you stare at the phone, your Muse will never call. If you try to will her to remember you, and want you just as much as you want her, you will be on the brink of your sanity.
It is almost as if she knows you are thinking of her, wanting her. At those moments, she just won’t be bothered. The only time your Muse comes to you is when you are busy doing something else.
Loving someone else.
Loving this very moment, so caught up in it, that you’re not sure where you end and this moment begins.
And that’s when she’s turned on, that’s when she reaches for you, because the Muse only sleeps with butterflies.
The Muse doesn’t come in quietly or easily, or when we expect it. She ravages us and takes over everything; we have to pull the car over to let her have her way with us, otherwise we are constantly consumed.
But even then, there’s little hope of sanity.
And when she returns to you, as she always will, you do not fight her. You do not refuse the water-colored roses she offers you.
You take it all.
You do not argue with your Muse because you know with one slight foul word she will be out of the door, heading to the next artist who is ready to fully worship her every move.
She has no time for tepid, safe, let-us-always-be-polite, kind of love. She will only settle for the humming from the deepest part of your engine heart, nothing else. She will never stand by and watch you fade away.
She is a fierce lover demanding the realest parts of you, the stuff you hide away with your childhood fears and the last time you let someone bear witness to your truth, without trying to fix you.
She wants to see you and really know you. More importantly, she wants you to see and really know yourself.
And only in that sacred dance between you and your soul will your Muse ask to cut in and place her cheek to your cheek, her heart to your heart.
And for the moment that your Muse dances with you, you feel what it feels to be alive and in love: the hell, the beauty, and the ecstasy.
And you are home.
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Maria Palumbo is a healer. She is a dancer in the dark. She lovingly guides women in the retrieval of their own souls through coaching, workshops, and community development. She celebrates freedom from shame in body, mind, and soul. Her work is fun and delicious, making the journey of healing gorgeous and satisfying, like a kiss under the Full Moon. Fall in deep love with your soul by connecting with her on Facebook or at her website.
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