Mercy! Mercy! That Dang Nabed PERCY!

On Muses

At some point in histroy we turned over custody of our spirits to organized religion. I am not going to go on a bashing triade because I belong to a church, support them finiancially and believe they do more good than harm. However, as custodians of our spirits they have not made much headway in spiritual understanding and development and we are still operating on dogma and doctrine largely unchanged since the 2nd Century AD. As organized religion stood still, science has surged forward until today all things spiritual are viewed with skepticism. However most of us believe in our hearts of hearts in a spirit....When we see the sparkle in a child's eye, look with wonder into the universe, see the love parents have for their families and as writers see the importance of our muse to our creative talents, we know that a spirit is a very real thing. There is no doubt that we are born with a spirit but that doesn't mean it stays with us throughout our lives. Like a spouse that finally becomes fed up with a marriage our spirit can and does walk out on us and when it goes, so goes our creativity. It begs the question, why does a spirit leave and I wish I had the answer. Maybe a clue is in performing artists that burn hot for a couple of years and then suddenly stop producing. Maybe it's the drugs or alcohol, the dissipated life style, being surrounded by parasites that are attracted to and suck the vitality out of the creative process. Maybe in the midst of forces such as these our mind starts to stink and our spirit can't deal with the stench. Maybe we don't listen to our spirt or act on its recommendations and it gets discouraged and leaves. Maybe we cash in our idealism and innocence and our spirit storms out in disgust. Anyway, it appears that something goes awry with our mind and body and suddenly something is missing from the art and things we create in life. Sure we can still write, and often the technical excellence of our work continues to show an elegance but the spark that once animated our work is gone and despite all the teflon there is no longer that red hot core of passion that once excited our patrons. Some people never lose that spirit. Their bodies can deteriorate but inside the bomb shelter of their souls the spirit hunkers down and continues to animate the mind. Others walk around as a mere shell of what they once were. On the oracle at Delphi, at a time when the spiritual fires of the Greek Civilization burned hottest were inscribed the words, "Know Thyself", and "All things in Moderation." I suggest we find a way to live comfortably within ourselves and try and not destroy our vessel with too much alcohol, drugs, food and risk. Further that we listen to our muse and when she/he whispers we incline our ear. Great writing does not come from within our minds but rather brushes by, illuminating our imaginations for the briefiest of moments...and when that happens we need to reach out and grab the hem with one hand and with the other start scribbling madly. Our spirit connects us to the grid of the universe allowing us to touch what has come before. In our minds there is but a small part but through our spirits we can reach out into the spires of eternity.