There are sometimes in your life when you feel like there are just not enough hours in the day. That you are thrown from one task to another and by the time you get the chance to sit down and relax, all motivation has flown, swallowed up on chores and passions are abandoned like dusty crypts, forgotten and forlorn.
Dreams change, goal posts are moved from one ambition to the next, excitement swells and grows as you grasp new adventures with fury. Throwing yourself headlong in yet another direction to explore.
Branches spread out before you as the path of life takes new twists and turns, leading you from one place to another. Passions open new doors and the extent of possibilities can feel all consuming and over whelming. Until your to-do list appears to feel longer than your life span.
Yet there are always chores, the mundane and the pots to do.
I adore writing, I am a compulsive note scribbler and frequently pour my thoughts onto paper, I find this clears my head and helps me focus through the fog of daily life. I never keep everything, what I keep finds its way into my colourful journals and is promptly lost from the black hole in my head. Only to be rediscovered on some cosy Sunday afternoon curled up before my log burner, pouring through journal pages, delighting at happy memories and inspiring the muse.
The muse rests deep within my soul, like a lazy angel of light and dark dreams. It sleeps, brooding, awake it unleashes all the ideas it has been hording, bombarding my mind with awash of ideas and inspiration. I see my muse as male and want to call him, him. I believe he even has a face, the face of every character I’ve ever dreamed up.
He is not limited to works of fiction and acts of art. He is my life’s muse. You see, I used to think I knew exactly who I was and what I wanted to do, to learn, to focus on. Yet as I’ve grown up (finally) I have found myself a stranger to myself. As I have thrown off the dusty remains of an old life, do not think the old me has been neglected, for she is still deeply part of who I am. BUT she is not ALL I am, for I am learning to discover more about me, life, the world both within and surrounding me.
I am forever on a journey of discovery with my muse by my side, with old me as a solid foundation and an ever growing branching path before me.
I Miss Writing.
But I never cease writing.
Anne Harrison. 10.12.15