Sunday, October 24, 2021

What is there to a muse?

Before I leave my bibliophilic museum for more timely amusements about our political life—and presuming I’ll have lost my current inspiration when I return, some weeks ahead—I want to express fascination with the notion of “the” muse which writers sometimes cite to explain their aspiration.

Standardly, fables of personified creative capability flow from the posited muse into one’s own voice. It’s a Janus-faced venture of speaking in light of earlier listening, as if a “spirit” is channeled.

Here,“you” are more than witness. You are addressed through the voicing in a triadic mediation(2) of enspiration(1) to you(3). The music(1) fills(2) “me,” which is heralded(3).

Yet, one may posture their audience as the muse itself, e.g., writing to Orpheus. Here, one lets another listen in to “my” addressing enspiration—a triadic venture of “you” now witnessing an interplay.

Both ventures may echo each other—or merge, one fused (if not confused) with the other. A present person may be personified as a muse, which is common for creativity, respecting the difference (the other person trusts); and playing with appreciated liminality.