the missing muse

Some mornings I sit here wondering what the heck I'm going to write about. Today is one of them. I know that this whole blog thing is good for me. That it helps me to flex my writing muscles. And yet, there are times when there is nothing in my head that seems to need to be said.

When all else fails, I write about coffee. But even that doesn't seem important today. Maybe it's true. Good writing comes from pain. Right now I have none that I can think of. And so there are no passionate words to describe my anguish. And love...that's the other inspiration, but there are no words passionate enough to describe my love. What else is there? Is the world so black and white? I think not...

My muse...Annabelle...isn't doing her job. I hear her voice now saying...It's not me, it's you. You haven't been coming to the page. I'm here for you when you decide to settle in and get serious. And Natalie Goldberg would say...just keep the hands moving. So easy for you dear. Today it's not so easy for me. She also says it's okay to write crap. Okay...I'm writing crap.

Once during meditation, I asked for a mentor. And I was given Thomas Merton. This was scary. Have you ever tried to read his work. He's passed now, but when he was alive (and perhaps now, on the other side,) he was true genius. He was a Catholic monk, turned mystic with and Easternish philosophy. And so I guess we sort of came from the same place, making it only fitting that he might mentor me from beyond. Perhaps today I need to reconnect with his work, and ask for a little psychic intervention.

The voices in my head are saying...it's so you. Study, study, study...anything to keep from writing. They know me so well.

And there is laundry to do, my office to clean up, new curtains to hang. Not near as threatening as the writing. And reading is good. I could play with my new ipod - which by the way I love, thank you Jonathan.

So I could fill up my day with tiny tasks. Or I could get serious (says Annabelle). Now is the time I need Ronda - my cheerleader. She exists in the 3-D world and has always encouraged me when I need it. Minnesota, though closer than Houston, is still quite far away. She's probably already taking a class. (Anything to keep from writing, right Ron?) Are we that much alike? Perhaps I should get up early and drive there on Thursday...it's like driving to Austin. Or maybe we could meet in the middle, just to visit. (Another reason not to write...)

Now I've managed to get something down here...crap or not...I showed up.