My Muse

by Angella Jacob

April 2, 2011

A muse is a wonderful thing indeed. On those days when the dark, eerie clouds are covering the skies as far as the eye can see, the muse becomes the shining sun that pushes them back over the horizon and casts them off to a distant land. A muse can bring about a lightning storm and a thundering downpour on the days when the drought is unending. Like a rainbow in a monochrome world, the muse inundates an artists' senses with an energy unlike any other. The muse carries with it the power to inspire and give hope to the artist, naturally playing their role, as though fate had brought them together for the sole purpose of creation.

Muses have held varying descriptions throughout history. Protectors of the arts was the title given to them centuries ago. In Greek mythology, the original muses were nine sisters, born of the Greek gods Zeus and Mnemosyne. Throughout centuries and still to the present day, muses are known to creative souls as the essence of inspiration to the artist. For writers, musicians, painters, poets, or an artist of any craft, the muse is the person that the artist feels a deep, intuitive bond with, inspiring them to create, to reach further into themselves as artists, in order to bring forth their true and full potential.

Personally, my muse brings forth a flood of creative energy that forms deep within the confines of my own limiting beliefs, and allows me to somehow break down those barriers. The energy that flows following a chat with my muse could possibly be the most powerful and yet the most grounding implosion of my senses. It brings about much needed respite and hope, allowing myself to dream up bigger and better things in respect to my craft. I hold my muse as high up as possible on the pedestal of friendship and respect. I trust my muse with my creative explorations, and value the familiarity of our mutual appreciation of the arts.

My muse encompasses the global equivalency of the spectrum of light. The energy is passed from my muse, then onto the prism in which the art is contained (myself), and then cast out in a multitude of multicoloured and vibrant rays (my writing).

It is with my deepest appreciation and gratitude to my muse that I bask in glow of my art, my writing. Thank you, dear muse, for allowing me to see beyond the clouds, and to remind me to look into the rays of the radiant sun that shines brightly, just over the horizon.

Angella Jacob