“I was working on the proof of one of my poems
all the morning, and took out a comma.
In the afternoon I put it back again.”
~ Oscar Wilde

It’s taken me a long, long while to understand the waves and rhythms of not just the creative cycle, but my own creative cycle ~ my Muses and Muse Wave. It’s taken a bit longer to appreciate and honor that.

Given my conditioning ~ which took me away from, not closer to that innate creative soul-voice ~ when I catch myself honoring it, it feels like nothing short of a miracle. A real yee ha moment.

Getting others to understand and honor it, well, that’s another story altogether, calling for yet another kind of miracle. For that, I remain patient … sometimes.

And it occurred to me last Friday morning that the experience of listening for the Muse, being prepared to flow with the Muse, and riding that Muse Wave is a bit like surfing in its raw essence.

When I lived in San Diego and Los Angeles, and even for the many years in San Francisco, it was common to see the surfers out off the shoreline.

The more devoted among them spent a lot of time preparing to ride the waves – they knew the timelines for the tides, and watched the weather reports; they prepared their boards; and they took to the waters when the chances for decent waves were good.

But once out on the water, they waited, and watched. I’m sure more than a few could sense it as well. Sometimes the waters were more calm or the waves were small, and every once in awhile it would be a Motherlode Wave Day.

The Muses are like that ~ our creative energies have their own tides, flat days, and times of wee waves.

But sometimes, the big Muse Wave arrives for however long and if we’re lucky, we ride it to whatever expression comes through.

And sometimes, to our great frustration, our Muse Wave gets interrupted.

When that happens, we go back to watching and waiting and courting the Muse, because like the tides and sea-waves, we can’t just throw a tantrum or press the stopwatch and call forth a wave (not often, anyway).

The Muses operate in Kairos, not Chronos time.

And last Friday morning, when this whole surf-wave-Muse metaphor came to me?

Yep, I woke up, took a long morning walk, and recognized the Muse Wave was present, after a week or so of glassy-flat seas. Honestly? I felt jubilant.

And then I was interrupted, big time. Muse Wave squashed flat. Doh!

After more long morning (and afternoon) walks, I saw more clearly how the Muse approaches, and how powerful and tender that wave and inspiration is. It’s sacred time, and sacred space.

I resolved to honor and tend it ~ and protect it ~ all the more devotedly and fiercely.

As if on cue, a friend sent along a Yoga Journal article on Kali Ma, the fiercely protective demon-slaying goddess ~ an excellent protector of the sacred Muse. Point taken, Kali-help accepted.

How’s your Muse, and how does your Muse Time flow?

Lots of Love,

p.s. It’s fun to see where the Muses are in your astro chart, so you can invoke and tend them more fiercely and play-fully.