Love The Muse You’re With

by | Feb 23, 2010 | Articles | 9 comments

I have a confession to make.

In writing this blog I talk a lot about the creative process which makes it sound like it’s something that’s kind of abstract. Or at least part of the workings of my own mind. Which isn’t exactly the truth.

I’ve been avoiding telling the truth because I’m afraid that if I do the next time I open the front door I will be greeted by the proverbial men in the white coats with their clipboards and soothing voices and dripping syringes of Thorazine ready to cart me off to some place where I can learn more than I ever wanted to know about basket weaving.

But in all fairness to you, my dear blog readers, I think it’s time I stopped being chicken-shit vague in the service of preserving any appearance of sanity.

So here is the truth.

I often feel like my creativity ( AKA my muse) is a separate being.

No, no, no…. see I’m STILL waffling.

OK. OK. One more time.

I KNOW that my muse is a separate being.

Yes, you could say It’s another part of my mind. And maybe she is. But she clearly doesn’t think so and she certainly doesn’t act that way.

I mean, do you get into whiny, pissy fights with something that’s just a part of your mind? And routinely lose those arguments?

There are definitely clues that point to her independent existence, such as the fact that she often wants things other than what I think I want. Like I thought I wanted to write this post about the futility of planning but she thought it would be a much better idea for me to write a post about her!

She so clearly has a mind of her own and needs of her own. She has her own rhythm and her own sense of flow. She comes, she goes. She talks to me louder sometimes than others. She feeds me, entertains me, supports me and gives my life an incredible sense of meaning.

And like any relationship with someone who is not you, she is unpredictable. I have no idea what she’s going to do next.

Whenever I start a new creative project- whether it’s writing or painting or designing a workshop- I never  know where it’s going or how it’s going to end up. I mean, sure, I have some general outlines to work with. Like right now, I am writing this blog post for you all. I know that it will be about creativity and maybe will have something to do with the futility of planning. ( Although you can see exactly how far THAT has gotten me).

But I don’t really know what I’m actually going to say about all that. I have no idea how it’s going to come out or what tangents I’m going to go off on. I don’t know if I’m going to like what I end up with. If it will please my critic or my audience ( that means you, dear readers) or if it will even please me.

All of that is a total mystery. My job when I enter into a relationship with the creative process is to put in a request (one article about planning and creativity, if it’s OK with you), invite the creativity goddess to pay me a visit, pick up the brush or put my fingers on the keyboard and then sit back and see what happens.

And this is something that makes my stomach clench and my skin crawl every time.

Because, you see, I am rather addicted to feeling safe.  I want the money-back guarantee. I want to know for sure where it is that I am going and what the final outcome will be. I want the map and the destination and everything in between. And I want to know that I will be happy with where I end up.

But I never get that sense of confidence when I invite my muse in because she’s wildly capricious.

Sometimes she gives me tons of good stuff and sometimes I have the distinct impression that she’s holding out on me. Sometimes she floods me with more words and images than I know what to do with and sometimes she is slow and halting and meandering and I end up spending a great deal of time staring out the window .

It’s very clear that I don’t have any control over her. And because I can’t control her it actually scares me.

I’m scared because I’m not all that crazy about facing the void each time I am creating something. I don’t like feeling so lost and wondering, again, if this time I will finally find out that there is nothing more left.

I’m terrified of the possibility that I will discover that maybe the creative well has finally dried up. That the creativity goddess has abandoned me and left me high and dry with my fingers perched expectantly over the keyboard but no words, or images or stories cascading  through my brain and out of my hands onto the screen or paper in front of me.

I’m afraid of the silence. The empty space. I forget that this silence and emptiness is so much a part of the creative journey. I forget that I need to empty myself before I can be filled with the creative fire. That I need to make room and get out of the way.

And then even if she does deign to allow the words or paint to flow and I end up with a painting or a blog post I get scared about other people seeing it and what they will think about it.  I get worried that they won’t like it or think it’s weird. And because they don’t know that it’s really not me writing or painting they will think that I’m not a very good writer or painter. Or that I’m weird.

They don’t understand that it’s completely out of my hands.

Whenever I start worrying about other peoples reactions I get confused. I forget that whatever shows up on the paper has nothing to do with me. I forget that I can take no credit or blame for how my creativity manifests.

And then I start IMPROVING what she is giving me. Making value judgments. Behaving as if I know better than her. Forgetting who is really in charge here.

Which is a monumentally bad idea. Me forgetting that she is the boss of my creative life, that she is the source of all creative goodness  makes her incredibly cranky. And when she gets cranky she pouts and sulks and won’t give me anything at all.

I call it being blocked. She calls it being unappreciated.

Ultimately what it comes down to is that I need to trust. I need to trust that there is this other intelligence operating inside of me that I call the muse, or the creativity goddess or my intuition. I need to trust that this part of me is not only alive and well, but knows exactly what it is doing.

And to try and remember that if I just give in and let her have her way with me I actually enjoy the whole process immensely. It’s really wonderful to be in that creative flow. To not feel like I have to be responsible. To be in that place where I am inspired and surprised by what shows up. It’s endlessly fascinating. It’s a lot of fun. It’s energizing and relaxing and incredibly fulfilling to just let the spirit move me.

I am actually the happiest when I am doing exactly what she wants me to do without question. Which may seem a tad sick and twisted to someone looking in from the outside.

But truthfully, I didn’t want to write that blog post about the futility of planning anyway.

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If your muse hasn’t been talking with you much lately or you would like to let her ( or him) know how much you love them by bringing them to a place that supports them to unabashedly come out and play, I would like to invite you to a workshop called ARTSOUNDYOU! that I am offering May 16-20 with my dear friend, sound shaman Fabeku Fatunmise. We will be painting and drumming and just having an all around great time unleashing your creative self in the company of a whole creative community of muses. More details here.

Comments

9 Comments

  1. Totally awesome post! I’m right there with you. Thanks for this post.

    I wish I could be at the Workshop you and Fabeku are doing but it’s an impossibility. Good luck. I know he rocks and if he’s hanging with you, YOU must rock too.

  2. Chris, thank you for sharing your inner creative turmoil with us all. I think my muse is your muse’s twin sister. Just as unpredictable, cranky, flighty as yours, and also just as brilliant. We all have a way of standing in our own way sometimes. Kudos to you for recognizing what’s happening, and for being brave enough to be vulnerable with your readers. You have more company than you think! *Hugs*

  3. Oh my gosh, Chris – I SO identify with your post! You have put into very succinct words exactly how I feel when I enter into a new creative project. I love to read your newsletter / blog posts because I know it is always going to be a description of what I have had going on inside my head too! How do you do it? Thanks so much for your honesty and courage to share all of this with us. One of my goals (for years now) is to attend one of your workshops. I would so love to meet you and experience your energy in person!

    Hugs and love –

  4. Hi Chris, What a great post! LOVE the title :)

    The idea of our muses being separate from us feels so right. And what a relief too–all that agonizing and planning and attempting to control the creative process can be so draining. The idea that we can just let go and allow our muse to sweep in with their awesomeness is very liberating. Now, if i could just learn to remember that more often …

  5. this just opens my heart – bowing down to both you and your muse (who might be related to my muse i think!)

  6. Thanks Wulfie! Hanging out with Fabeku always makes me feel MUCH more cool!!!

    Dovelily- It means more than I can say to know that I’m not alone in this process!!

    Arlene- I’m glad that what I write speaks to you. I think that the issues around the creative process are just so universal so that’s why it feels like I’m in your head. These processes go on in ALL our heads (-:. And I would LOVE IT if you could come to one of my workshops at some point. I know that we would have a fabulous time together!!

    Dave- Yes, agonizing is exactly the right word. And I write these posts primarily for ME to remember some of these principals. I’m just glad that what helps me can also help out other folks in our creativity tribe!!

    Jane- Of course our muses are related! They are all part of one big creative muse family!! Thanks so much for stopping by.

  7. Thank you for writing this wonderful post! I feel like a huge weight has been lifted and I can relax and wait for my moody muse to tell me what she wants me to do. No rush, I’ll wait. She is good, all she wants is my attention and just like you’ve said, she wants me to trust her.

  8. Erika- I’m so happy that my post was able to give you… and your wonderfully moody muse…. permission to just be. And there’s nothing that those muses hate more than being rushed (-:

  9. I think it is so interesting how we have these multiple personalities…our creative muse, who can be inspiring and maddening all at once, and then our inner critic, who can be loud and obnoxious and crazy-making! AND we give them names! AND we talk to them! It is all so much fun isn’t it??!

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