Elusive Words

~ Meg

Since I’ve been writing, I’ve started looking for inspiration everywhere. I find inspiration in music, in art, and I draw on my own personal life experiences. Having your senses fired by external stimuli, often fuels your creative process. Nevertheless, some days the words just won’t come. Life, with all its anxieties can drown out the Muse, if he’s still talking.

My life has been especially busy and my mind has been a very noisy and messy place. It feels a little like I can’t catch my breath. Maybe even like I’m under water, trying to claw back to the surface.  I can fix this, I know I can. Yet, I ignore my own advice.

It’s time to take a break and find some quiet time. For me, that means getting outside, no matter the weather. Walking the country roads past the crumbling old walls that line the pastures, I let my mind wander. There’s a fallen down barn on the dirt road about a mile away. The red-tailed hawks perch on the half-rotted beams and watch for field mice and rabbits in the tall grass. The wind sighing, the birds singing, the chatter of the squirrels is the only music to my ears. Cross the creek, rushing with last night’s rain. The smell of damp leaves, the mud, all loamy and decayed.

Even better, when the world is quiet after a new fall of snow. It crunches beneath your boots as your feet plunge through the sheen of ice on the surface. When the sun returns, it sparkles like a spray of tiny stars on a field of white instead of black. The air freezes your nostrils but it feels clean and purifying. The red of the cardinal is in sharp contrast to the brilliant white of the snow clinging to the tree branches.

Breathe it in deeply. Inspire… Now, to go home and write something beautiful.

 

Published by Meg

Easily amused, never bored and constantly distracted. My creative pursuits include writing, drawing, painting and photography.

62 thoughts on “Elusive Words”

  1. I need quiet too, and outside is my favorite. I also love to just sit and read. Quiet doesn’t happen all that often around here, so I must make the time.

    I’m so glad you are getting outside and doing whatever your body/mind is asking for!

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  5. You know I share the same sentiments! I miss my Muse so much when she’s gone…to the point of tears when she comes back.
    It’s a beautiful way to reconnect by remembering we are part of a grander design and important pieces in this jigsaw puzzle of a universe. 💕

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    1. Eric, even your comments are like poetry! ❤ And you are absolutely right, nature is restorative, especially this time of year, when the inclination is to hibernate. At least here in the north! Thank you, Sir Eric!

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  7. We just had a snow squall come through here and it was wild. Got pitch black…like turn the lights on in the middle of the day black. The snow was going straight west to east for fifteen minutes…now the sun is back out. Don’t worry Meg, I’m betting February will be a bear ’round here. Lots of cold and snow to enjoy. Let’s just keep that “crunching” sound contained beneath our shoes and not from our cars!

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    1. Ha! Yes, exactly! Man, even the snow squall missed us. I want one big one, you know? The kind that makes you stay home and build a fire and read and drink hot chocolate… Then it can all melt and spring can come! 😀

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    1. I live off the beaten path… it makes for some pleasant outdoor recreation. And I’m really trying to get back into my routine. I slacked off in November and December. No parks or anything nearby? I guess that doesn’t help if the noise is in your head…

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  15. Great piece here, however my curiosity is piqued that you called the muse a ‘he’. Needless to say (well you do know me) I have never thought of the muse as masculine and traditionally the muse is feminine. Interested in your thoughts on this.

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    1. I’ve told you about James… The imaginary twin brother. I’ve sort of held onto him. I was validated in reading Jung’s idea about anima and anime. How we have two sides to us: the masculine and the feminine. That inner voice of mine has always been James. Jamie. Not that I struggle with gender identity. Not in the least. Yet ‘he’ is the one who whispers in my ear. He’s also my inner critic. So perhaps I see myself from a male perspective and not from a female … I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. I dunno. What do you think?

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      1. Art should never be about morality, ever, so whether it is good or bad is immaterial, it just is. My muse is obviously female, so that would validate Jungs theory. Aren’t all writers a little bit ambiguous when it comes to identity?

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