Where Would I Be Without My Muse?
by Keith Kareem Williams
One of the biggest complaints uttered from the lips of the creative people often involves a lack of inspiration. Drowning in varying depths of depression and lack of motivation, we wait for something or someone to move us so profoundly that we become energized with that spark that will push our talents to higher heights. For those that are artistically inclined, there is no greater feeling than finding that magical, elusive space to create. We all have different methods and often travel very different roads to get to where we need to be to do great work. There are various forms of outside stimuli that we use to get high and free our minds. For some, it’s narcotics and for others it can be something as common as good sex. (Personally, I prefer the latter.)
I’m somewhat reserved and private, (Some say “secretive”) by nature so I keep the identities of my muses mostly to myself. Over the years, I’ve had a few even though a select few have played a bigger role in my chaotic process than others. The best ones haven’t been bothered by the messy state of my bedroom on most days. (All of the haphazardly scattered items are usually clean but simply scattered about haphazardly.) Why waste time organizing closets and dresser drawers when I can spend that energy fixing chapters, paragraphs and holes in my plots? None of the best muses I’ve had ever complained about the numerous pages torn neatly from my notebooks and notepads spread all over the bed like autumn leaves that fell from the limbs of trees, covered with the inked ramblings of my disorganized mind. My favorite muses have scavenged through those pages, ravenously devouring everything I wrote with passion and excitement. That only inspired me to write more in order to satisfy their appetites.
There isn’t much joy in spending time with a woman who can’t show you things about life in ways that you’ve never seen them before. Things become stale and predictable if she doesn’t inspire your thoughts to ride on tracks that lead to places unknown. The simple act of watching her sleep sparks ideas in your mind about what she might be dreaming of. I’ve encountered a few that wanted to be muses but, it’s not the sort of thing a person can be if they aren’t. I’ve learned that me being inspired by a muse is a natural occurrence, like falling in love at first sight. A thing like that doesn’t follow logic and it certainly doesn’t make sense to anyone but me. All the same, no matter who comes and goes, I have one person that I consider my supreme source of inspiration and we don’t always speak, (for various complicated reasons) but thoughts of her always move my pen.
Copyright © 2015 Keith Kareem Williams
All rights reserved.