Muse in the Morning

Muse in the Morning

The muses are ancient.  The inspirations for our stories were said to be born from them.  Muses of song and dance, or poetry and prose, of comedy and tragedy, of the inward and the outward.  In one version they are Calliope, Euterpe and Terpsichore, Erato and Clio, Thalia and Melpomene, Polyhymnia and Urania.

It has also been traditional to name a tenth muse.  Plato declared Sappho to be the tenth muse, the muse of women poets.  Others have been suggested throughout the centuries.  I don’t have a name for one, but I do think there should be a muse for the graphical arts.  And maybe there should be many more.

Please join us inside to celebrate our various muses…

In 1992 I learned to speak my truths.  They were tentative at first, hardly more than notes about the reality of my life.  Later some of them became poems.  Still later, more poems were added to add the view of hindsight.  I’ve tried to arrange them into a cohesive whole.  Maybe it works.  Maybe it has more meaning this way.

Old poem, more complete than it used to be, but still incomplete…because I am not dead yet.  It was lost for over 9 years.

A Transition through Poetry XXX

Art Link Inner Light Personal Evolution (an unfinished poem about a life not ended) Brief moments of awareness… like the immersion of a skipping shell in the liquid of another life. Suppression…Submission…Denial Insistence…Duality…Fear Anger…Confusion…Dissociation Coalescence of self… the protecting shell loses momentum, ceases skipping, and begins to sink. Control…Struggle…Pain Loss…Crisis…Acknowledgment Hope…Death…Existence Birth of identity… the sinking of the shell propels up a splash, a pearl of dew, which hangs suspended. Trying…Failing…Crying Learning…Knowing…Growing Assimilating…Adapting…Being Examination of soul… while gravity stops, the revealing lens zooms through the wet, uncovering layers. Exhilaration…Disappointment…Loss Pride…Necessity…Doubt Honesty…Certainty…Change. Assertion of gender… Vibration of ego… internal bonds break, the mist that was dew drifts on the wind, scattering slowly. Listening…Traveling…Speaking Reading…Witnessing…Writing Relocating…Suffering…Returning Perusal of purpose… catching an updraft the mist attaches to motes of dust from other life paths. Joining…Disclosing…Contributing Attending…Despairing…Meeting Enjoying…Loving…Committing Analysis of life… shifting perspective the damp dust provides fertile ground for germs of wisdom . . . dot dot dot –Robyn Elaine Serven –January 17, 1997

I know you have talent.  What sometimes is forgotten is that being practical is a talent.  I have a paucity for that sort of talent in many situations, though it turns out that I’m a pretty darn good cook.  🙂  

Let your talent bloom.  You can share it here.  Encourage others to let it bloom inside them as well.

Won’t you share your words or art, your sounds or visions, your thoughts scientific or philosophic, the comedy or tragedy of your days, the stories of doing and making?  And be excellent to one another!