The Muse
As I think back on it, what started with a desire to get more in touch with my inner, creative self, led to the most extraordinary experience, one that set me out in new directions with my life, leaving me forever changed. Once I encountered my muse, synchronicity would come to play and nothing would be quite the same. It happened during a time of transition in my life, a time when I was so caught up in trying to meet other’s expectations, that I had lost touch with the dreamer within, a serious malaise for a performer. In my yearning to reconnect, I sought solace and time for reflection. A series of coincidences eventually drew me toward journal writing. Every day I would awaken at the crack of dawn, to a house quiet and full of shadows, and snuggle up in a comfortable chair. After lighting a candle, with pen in hand, I would begin to put down my thoughts .As soft music played and the Grandfather clock ticked away, I soon found myself in a meditative state. Days went by, and then months and I began to look forward to these special moments. My words began to pour like torrents onto the page, taking me deeper and deeper into inner recesses of self. Then one day, quite unexpectedly, a strange thing happened. A little character began to emerge, appearing between my imaginings like a mysterious stranger. She seemed to come from some far off, ancient place. I found her elusive, hauntingly beautiful, and yet, wildly whimsical. Fascinated, I began to follow her about the pages, trying to keep up, but always a few steps behind. I wasn’t sure who she was or why she had come. Yet, her early morning visits seemed to correspond with the first songs sung by the birds outside my window. Amused, I would name her, the Bird Woman.
She would lead me along wooded paths, down windy roads, and into many adventures. Our meanderings would take me to my ancestral roots, to other times, other folk, where I sang and danced in celebration of life. Circling back, faces would become more familiar, and as each scene came into focus, I would see moments from the past, some joyful, some bittersweet. I now understood that each relationship, each circumstance, was a gift, wonderfully woven into this, my life. How I would weave my future was all up to me. Dreaming made it all possible. As the journal came to a close, I found myself in a sunny meadow in the woods, I remembered it well, for here, as a young girl, I would sit and listen to birds in the trees and imagine what life could be. It was then that Bird Woman would approach me, and wave me farewell. Tucked in her arm was a little harp. It was for my music. With a smile she would hand it to me and then, as mysteriously as she had come, she was gone. Years have passed and I have strummed my harp on many a stage. It is an ancient instrument, mystical, magical. With its gentle notes and healing vibrations, I feel I can best express the music that is within me. I can sing from the heart. I remain forever Wishing you your muse, Marci |
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