I have so many writing projects in various stages of development that I banished the muse. I have ideas in abundance, I don’t need any more. I need to complete something. Preferring to play, she’s not really helpful with the hard work of writing and editing. Feelings hurt, she obeyed and usually stays away, but sometimes she reappears unexpectedly to taunt me. She showed up this morning.
I was in a hurry to leave for a yoga class. I suspect there were some repressed feelings provoked by a series of songs on the radio that left me susceptible to my muse prancing in to poke me. A title, a first line, a theme and a surge of words (not necessarily related to each other) were dropped on me. If I keep words ambling lazily about in my head, try to line them up in proper order and repeat them to remember them, they usually disappear by the time I get to paper. I rushed to jot them down. Since I’d just been to a yoga class the previous day, I didn’t really need to go to again today, but … I REALLY needed to go to yoga—if you know what I mean. I wasn’t going to let more silly ideas get in the way of my healthy intention. But, was I going to be able to clear my mind during class? Would I lose my words or would I forfeit my hour of stillness?
I started scribbling madly to catch the essence of what I’d been given. The theme of my musings was related to disappearing and, immediately, the ink from my pen began to disappear. I grabbed a different pen and … in short order, would you believe it? That one ran dry too! Seriously? I’m in a hurry to go slow down, meditate and stretch. You give me this idea and then you can’t even give me a friggin’ pen that works?!
Ha, ha, she teased. You apparently need it enforced that you’re to write this piece about disappearing.
Okay, I get it. Thanks … I guess.
Sometimes she’s just so darn hard to ignore.