A Muse

by Cleo Dunsmore Buchanan

You’ve probably heard about the mythological figures, the Greek muses.

Artists and poets and authors of all kinds invoke their assistance when whipping up a project. All creatives face similar challenges: the difficulty of living up to our potential. 

We wrestle with writers block, artists block, stage fright. There are blank canvases staring at us, cursors flashing patiently on an empty word processor, vacant stages with two hundred people in the seats, staring at the opening curtains. We have closets full of paintings unshared, we have binders full of stories no one has read. We may be able to produce and unable to reveal it.

The muses deliver the component we seek- the divine connection. 

The divine takes responsibility for the work out of our hands. When flooded with the divine inspiration, we can focus on the work. Suddenly this act of creation is not selfish, or a reflection of us and our worth. 

Some writers claim they only listen, and write what the divine whispers to them. Some creatives insist the frenzy burns if they cannot reach their materials, and only releasing the fire into a creation can they calm and live in their bodies. 

A muse might seem mythological. However the act of drawing down lighting from the divine can be painful, frightening, and overwhelming. Each creative has their time alone with the divine. Accepting this connection to something so great and powerful requires us to accept our worthiness to rub shoulders with God. We must even be Co creators, able to say, “Divine – I can improve this. Blue is better than green here.”

 When a person has this ability, and draws down more than their own inspiration, they might find their mission is to deliver that spark to others. Then there is inspiring confidence. How can each of us remember our divinity so powerfully as to accept the lightning when it comes? How can we accept our power so we can welcome the opportunity to co create with God?

A muse is someone who believes in us so powerfully that we can’t help but catch their belief. When we meet a muse, we might be afraid, their acceptance of who we are challenges our own limits. They see in us so much more than we have ever been. They see our glory before we have dreamed of it. They are eager to walk with us, thru both heaven and hell, to witness and celebrate our journey, for no more than the joy of being near us.

Suddenly time with the divine becomes our responsibility, in our partnership with our muse. We are no longer are alone on our journey. We have someone to share with and someone who needs our faith to remind them of their divinity as much as we need them. 

It is our nature to wallow in abundance, far beyond our imagining. In partnership with our muse, our cups run over, and we shall not want. Thru this gateway we are led to the divine, again and blessedly again.

Blossom

Every artwork has a story. And this one is about rebirth.

I moved from Maryland to Colorado in August of 2017. My husband, son and I were in a car with a 17 year old cat, two bonsai trees (big ones), two tortoises ( big ones!), and a tank of hermit crabs (seriously?) for three days.

Yes.

We left behind an orchard we had planted which had borne fruit for the first time that year. We left behind an intricate and beautiful tree house/ jungle gym that my husband hand crafted out of whole tree trunks cut down from our yard. We left behind my studio, which my husband built for me, with industrial quality ventilation and work bench and windows, and beauty and joy.

And we arrived in Colorado and moved in with my sister, and brother in law, while we waited for our house in Maryland to sell.

This was our rebirth.

I thought when we told my sister that our house had sold, in October of 2017, she would be relieved, and ready for us to move out of her home. But she and my brother in law were sad. It was poetic. We all loved living together. We loved it so much, we spent months shopping for a new house we could all live in together.

Now we share every day, and are so blessed. My son is thrilled to have his aunt and uncle in the house. They are thrilled to have their nephew to play with daily. My husband loves to talk endlessly to my brother in law, who enjoys the same. I thought women could talk until there was no oxygen left; these guys are like senators! Its wonderful to hear them arguing subtle points of science endlessly.

We could not have imagined this miracle, yet we are blessed with it now everyday. And the image of sitting in a waterlily, just accepting the unfolding around me, tells the story.

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