Part IV.
What we have discussed to this point, in parts I – III of this essay, that
is the flowering side of the garden. It is the place where we love to be, when
everything is growing well and going right, but there are many times in our lives,
countless times, when inspiration strikes
and is not received. when it is received and not acted on, when it is acted
upon and is not fulfilled.
There are many forces; both within us, and without, that are opposed to
the power of inspiration. They are
the menial and the mundane, the day to day duties that obscure our vision, the doubts
that disrupt the voice of the muse, the cold fingers of fear clutching at the
heart, tearing at the will, and the hand that stills them.
The death of inspiration
comes through that inner critic, the one who tells us that our work is futile[1], frivolous, and useless, the
one who spreads the debris and the clutter that covers the bright and bubbling fountain
within us.
The Spirit blows where it will, and reaches everyone. The muses[2] sing to us all. Whether we
think of the force of inspiration as
divine, as a gift that comes from without, or as an innate power that is
inherent to our being, as our “true self” speaking to us. When the moment comes
we must, each of us, fit it into our busy lives, either that or forget about it
and watch it fade away.
Brenda Ueland says[3] that “the true self is
really the Conscience (or God)” not speaking to us about “morality or
convention” but daring us to explore the “truth (in ourselves) toward bravery
and the greater life.” When you find that truth, she says, your true self, “and
see how gifted you are, you can write as slowly as you want to.” You can let
the world be the world, and not let it set you off the course of fulfilling
your vision.
The weal of our life will turn, our inspiration
will rise with it, if we let it. We will lift from it, and jump off it, just as
we reach the apex of the curve, or the moment will pass, as we cling to the
wheel, as it turns around, and down we go, pushed into the ground of uselessness
and futility.
[1]
The American Heritage Dictionary,
Fourth Edition, Futile, “1. Having no useful result. 2. Trifling, and
frivolous; idle.”
[2]
The American Heritage Dictionary,
Fourth Edition, Muse, “1. Greek
Mythology Any of the nine daughters of Mnemosyne and Zeus, each of whom
resided over a different art or science. 2. A guiding spirit.”
[3]
Brenda Ueland, If You Want to Write, A
Book about Art, Independence and Spirit: p. 121, BN publishing, 2008
