Waiting For The Muse

Where the heck is the muse? C’mon Muse, I’m waiting! In his book, The War of Art, Pressfield says if you show up to write (or whatever you’re art form is) then the Muse will show up. I’m not hearing from the muse. I don’t think I am anyway. I have tid-bits of thought for today’s blog post; love-hate relationship with cell phones, yesterday a good day with family, tiredness, turning 52, shopping with my wife---all possible post ideas all devoid of energy this instant.

Perhaps the ideas are devoid of energy because I am. I am hardly motivated. I gave up a run to the store with the wife figuring the muse would come once I sat in front of the computer and pulled up a new Word document. Ain’t happening. It’s been a long week of re-entry. School started this week. The kid started 10th grade. The wife started substitute teaching. I simply started another week at the same old job I’ve been doing for the last five years. It’s like we pushed through to the finish line on the first heat. More to go but we’re counting on the weekend for rejuvenation.

When in doubt blame the weather. It’s been crazy humid all week. Rejuvenation would come with cool wind or downpour of rain but the heat keeps beating down and the moisture keeps rising up. We lay down to sleep and can’t then are to tired to rise up at the alarm. It’s been one of those weeks. Work and school are laborious. We look to the fall and cooler weather. For now though we just keep going.

Perhaps the muse is tired too. She generally shows up on cue. Perhaps she got waylaid by the wind or thunderstorms and she is stuck somewhere out on the horizon. Now I find myself writing on the muse herself. The muse is by nature illusive. Trying to write about an illusive creature defies clarity. So I wait for the muse. I put my hands to the keyboard and hope that the ideas will come. Even as I do I sense a gentle stirring and whisper. She may be on schedule after all.