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The Creative Muse

The muse fascinates me, swallows me whole at times, confuses and paralyzes me with an overabundance of creation. I am only one person. One life time.

How does one choose what to spend their time doing? Does it matter to pick a path?

I have a few deep rooted passions, and my goal has been to find a way to allow for companionship within these passions of mine, much like companion plants work to form a far reaching relationship to support one another.

How can they work together to form a greater purpose? A cause that extends beyond a successful feeling? Moreover, a sense of belonging and community. Sustainability.

I've fought with my muse too many times, and even mistaken other people to be the muse. I learned otherwise, that the muse is an energy along-side of you, and together you agree on what you want to spend your time doing in matters of creation. I learned that there can be disagreements between yourself and the muse. Sometimes it feels as though your muse runs away with the person or object you were both ogling at the time. Maybe it does do this. I'm still picking apart what happens when the muse floats away for a while.

Recently, I made a contract between Muse and I. We painstakingly went over the pros and cons of our relationship, and how we could work together to serve a greater purpose. I want myself, my muse, and all my passions to bond, so we had a meeting.

This has been incredibly helpful in keeping my goals for art and all things herbal in check. That we aren't just taking every offer we get. We can't be sidetracked by shiny things unrelated to what we're trying to do. We can't stay up too late, having no respect for the next day. We have to put our projects away, take a break if we feel too consumed and forget self care.

It really does feel like being a small child, happily playing with your best friend, and then, all of a sudden out of nowhere, your mother tells you it's time to wrap it up. It's a hard blow, and you just want to hide, or beg to finish the game. Sometimes you cry or melt down.

This hasn't been easy for me, to adhere to these new ways of doing things, while digging myself out of years of emotional turmoil. My mind feels it's easier to grab ahold of old patterns, and repeat them. It knows trauma easily. It knows sadness easily. It's comfortable. Familiar.

I become afraid I will allow muse to completely call the shots while I am still working to stand my ground with staying focused, or not allowing the passions to get an edge in. It's always been a familiar way of mine, yet I know the consequences now. I know I end up feeling like my life is over and it's worth nothing, and so I do nothing for a while. What is a while changes duration, but either way, it makes me feel as though I've wasted my efforts, expended my energy with not much to show for.

During these moments, Muse had still been around, coaxing me to use these patterns and make them mean something. DO SOMETHING with them. It was unbearable at times to allow these patterns to be uprooted, and put into a whole other environment, mentally speaking. I still have many stories and paint I have packed away that the muse and I have started, and I want to finish them. But I am terrified.

Yet again, it is a familiar feeling. I am scared. So I don't bother. Then it is I, that is coaxing the muse into something other than what my heart wants to take on. It's not so healthy.

So, why would I need to bother unearthing an old project? Would it fit within my scope of linking my passions for a greater good, or would it open up a can of... I don't know.. I don't feel like worms are appropriate here. Worms break shit down. Okay. Maybe it is appropriate?

"Worms, can you help me out? Can we break this down, and use it to feed the greater good? Can we work together to create an underground matrix that supports strong roots, so what we show to the world is us, turning old shit into vibrant growth? That pain and old patterns can serve a purpose?"

"And my dear Muse, can we respectfully incorporate all that is broken down, and grow in maturity as a creative source not just for myself, but for others to glean from?"


Brush by like butterflies,

Lingering over newfound blossoms in summer.

In full bloom,

Against a full moon.

I'm awake,

Fully seeking to heal an old heartbreak,

From summer's past.

Fulling seeking a muse to last,

many seasons to come.

To invite butterflies,

I must plant,

the wildness

They truly find sweet.

For I am wild,

Yet tame,

Waiting to leave my cage.

It is only,

My own ribcage.

Passionate butterflies,

You hold the energy

to unravel me.

In the heat of summer.

Over fallen leaves.

While land,

slowly goes dormant.

Finding words and paint

over a blanket of snow.

To muster up a future,

come spring,

together we sleep.

We grow.


Wild and untamed,

What is my muse?

What is your name?


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