Sometimes I have the problem The Muses are nowhere to be found and I am bereft of an idea. Lately The Muses are all talking at once. This is annoying, for I end up feeling muddled rather than inspired. Several voices going at once drives one to distraction. Mark Twain said it is a terrible death, to be talked to death.
Throughout my life I always seem to meet people who are commune with someone or other. At work I frequently encounter people who are being spoken to by a variety of voices. I remember in a B&B my breakfast companion told me all about her abilities to commune with the dead.
Once upon a time at boy scout camp I worked side by side with a boy whose task it was to help repair a fort. He was most disconcerting. In the midst of our labors he would freeze and stare ahead for minutes at a time, listening to some sort of private spirit. When I asked him what sort of things his spirit told him, he would shrug and say “My daimon likes to ask me questions.” This struck me as a very unsatisfactory sort of spirit. If you are going to be the recipient of a divine or demonic visitation I would hope you would get some tidbit of wisdom, not the Spanish Inquisition.
Which brings me back to The Muses. One is suggesting I write about the dog. Another one says I am long overdue for an entry on Jungian Psychology. And then another one states it is high time I stop horsing around and write something pensive.*
So I am going to follow the age old wisdom of “when in doubt, get horizontal”. I am going to sleep and let them duke it out among themselves.
Besides, tomorrow night is opera – Wagner; the only loud women I want to hear from are The Valkyries.
*There is a fourth voice saying something about condiments, of all things.