“I had only to open my bedroom window, and blue air, Love, and flowers entered with her.”
Both creativity and the erotic begin to sing their siren songs beyond the limits of your known domains; the familiar dimensions of your day to day reality and what you think you know about yourself. When you are feeling drab and uninspired it can be valuable to inquire into how much of your lackluster joie de vivre has to do with true exhaustion or deficiency of some sort, verses an underlying fear of expanding past your known comfort zones.
Being bored with ourselves or life certainly doesn’t feel good, however how often do we actually choose (whether consciously or out of habit) this lower vibration of complacency, as opposed to risking life as we know it to throw ourselves into the mystery of passion and creativity?
Afterall, we don’t have many positive role models of exalted artists or great Lovers: poor, crazy, addict-prone, and irresponsible, verses doomed, shunned, star-crossed, and confused; our options for being consumed by the Muse, creatively, erotically, or otherwise do not often entice us past the mundane trappings of daily life. Yet, there can come a point where we reach the edge of our rope of perceived comfort and how much of our life-energy we are willing to sacrifice in the name of “playing it safe.”
We begin to question how much of what we’ve been taught about being “happy” in an upstanding, responsible, adult life in the western world is actually true. We begin to crave more, or more accurately, we begin to tune into the part of us that has always been craving more. Playing by the pre-mandated rules of the popular culture just doesn’t cut it anymore. We begin to see the sense of comfort and contained familiarity in our daily lives as a numbing mechanism that keeps us in a state of submission and apathy versus true, deep, satisfaction and engagement.
We can go through a phase of striking grief — for the years we’ve “lost,” for the dreams we never allowed ourselves to dream, for the friends and family that seem perfectly content in their own version of caged reality, and for our fundamental aloneness that we may be experiencing for the first time.
Existential crisis or transcendental opportunity?
If we are brave enough to grieve fully, feeling every nuance of our human heart, crying all the tears we never cried as children, inviting a symbolic death of life as we previously knew it, befriending our solitude as something sacred and life-giving, we can then begin to see the horizon of beginning life again upon mysterious, yet decidedly more enlivened ground.
We come to this place of standing between the threshold of life and death, being a vessel that births more creativity and Love into the world while simultaneously releasing attachment and control of our creations and experiences; coming to accept the impermanence of each moment and of life itself. We dance, we sing, we fuck, we pray — we make love through our breath and by the currents of the moon paving pale streams of light through the numinous night sky.
We invite ourselves into moments of stillness where we can feel our bones settling down to earth, inviting our muscles to relax, creating more space for breath and inspiration to flow through us.
We approach ourselves as a mystery, like the ocean. With face forward, we lean in with curiosity and respect, never becoming complacent or turning our back on the majesty of the currents of our deeper being, some left yet to be uncovered and expressed.
We remain open to the spontaneity of inspiration, yet also involve ourselves regularly in the practice of attending to activities and experiences that more readily invite the Muse to make love through us. Like the shifting of seasons, our rituals for invoking inspiration are always changing; we may discover that sometimes it’s dance that stimulates the pleasures of the Muse, while in other moments it’s brewing a cup of tea and sitting down to write.
The specific rituals you create to invoke the Muse are less important than the regularity of your attendance. On some days it may be getting extra cozy, with the softest, baggiest garments you have caressing your body in a relaxed, lazy fashion. On others, you may realize that to seduce the Muse you must adorn yourself regally, (nevermind if you are leaving the house), putting on your finest as an invitation to her inspiration.
One of the reasons we relish falling in Love so much is because being in Love sparks us with a feeling of seemingly never-ending inspiration. We are inspired to be more, to experience new aspects of life, to stretch beyond our limits, to feel more of our hearts, to transcend our identity by entering into a sacred state of union. The art being, created by the Muse of Lovership, is the expression of Love itself. We feel close to something holy. We are at once the originators and receivers of this magic flame that burns within the longing of every human heart.
There is a sense of arrival, of finally settling into the exalted realm of bliss that so many wish for and many more miss. We feel blessed and slightly mad all at once. We dive all the way in, past the point of return, as the Muse of Lovership obliterates our previous plans, hopes, fears, and dreams, delivering us to a sacred and somewhat somber experience of Love. Sacred because nothing in mundane, daily Life can even come close to touching the majesty and bliss evoked through deep Lovership; somber because we have a sense of the fleeting nature of Love, the impermanence of Life. We grasp at the desire to make it last forever while simultaneously knowing that we cannot grip or hold on to something as uncontrollable as the Muse of Lovership or Love itself.
Can we hold the ominous foreshadowing of the valleys that mark the in-betweens of the high peaks of Love, simply with presence and acceptance? Can we resist the temptation to slide into fear, useless control, and needless gripping to try and make Love last? Can we be fully merged in a state of ecstatic union, while simultaneously sober and aware — steering clear of the addiction that can come with the greed of needing “more”? Are we willing to cultivate a practice that draws upon our deeper reservoirs of self-respect and discipline, to seduce the Muse of Lovership into sprinkling us with inspiration when she is not readily flooding us of her own accord?
As a wise witchy woman once said, “Everyone is grateful for a banquet, [when there’s a feast], but if you can find gratitude when you are starving, that’s the real trick.” In the dead of winter, can you find appreciation for the pulse of life traveling under the cold crust of the earth, finding the faith and inner knowing that the bloom of spring will strike again? When you seemingly fall out of Love with yourself, can you access gratitude for the simplest, most subtle joys: the passing of breath between your lips, the dampness of fecund earth under your toes, the pleasure evoked when you gently caress the soft skin on the inner crease of your elbow? For it is these simple moments that ultimately string together to unleash the fury of a wildly creative, passionate, experience-rich, pleasure-laiden life. A life where you are the Muse, Lover, Creator, and Beloved. A life where you devotedly come back to the altar of self-love and discovery. A life that overflows from the deep well within, so that you engage with others from this place of self-contained rapture and delight.
As we become our own Muse, the world becomes our Muse; Life itself becomes our Lover, and everything and everyone is enfolded into the richness of expressing the Love that We Are without limits. A wild holy force, we are a life-affirming source of Love and inspiration. We are the Muse, we are the Lover, we are the Beloved.