Muse

Muse /myuz/ –noun
1.
Classical Mythology.
a.
any of a number of sister goddesses, originally given as Aoede (song), Melete (meditation), and Mneme (memory), but latterly and more commonly as the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne who presided over various arts: Calliope (epic poetry), Clio (history), Erato (lyric poetry), Euterpe (music), Melpomene (tragedy), Polyhymnia (religious music), Terpsichore (dance), Thalia (comedy), and Urania (astronomy); identified by the Romans with the Camenae.
b.
any goddess presiding over a particular art.
2.
(sometimes lowercase) the goddess or the power regarded as inspiring a poet, artist, thinker, or the like.
3.
(lowercase) the genius or powers characteristic of a poet.

Women. Can't say enough about them. Can't say anything to them. Perfect. Every god damn one you ever met. So many to talk about, so few to talk to. Women. What would any of us do without them?

I fancy myself a thinker. An intellect. A philsopher.

I like to think I can write a little. Not very well. Nothing special. But a little.

And as I reflect on this I realize that every thought, every lyric, every line of poetry or prose that I have ever written has been inspired by a woman.

So yeah, in a lot of ways I'm as every bit a fool as the rest of you.

But I'd like to take this minute while I acknowledge this to discuss those women that particularly inspired me. The women I will never forget. My muses so to speak.

The first one was *****, or history. She was beautiful, they all were, but there was something else about her. She liked the same things I liked, talked to me like she would talk to anyone else. I didn't want her, I wanted to be around her. I never wrote anything to her, never wrote anything for her, never wrote anything about her. But she was the inspiration for my first real voice. The first sounds in my head which forced themselves down my arms and out my fingertips straight onto the paper. Long after I had moved onto my next muse I would see her places. In the mall. At the movies. Driving down the street. She wouldn't remember me if stopped to talk to her. Wouldn't even know who I was. But I remember her, and remember the voice she gave me.

Then came ****, or tragedy. She was young and not so innocent, but inspiring in the way that cliches and great stories are born from. She was Juliet and she was Cleopatra and she was perfect. I wrote for her. I wrote because of her. She did not give me a voice, but she gave me a direction. If had known better, if I had been better, she would have given me a goal. But alas, she left me with feelings not stories, and emotions not poems.

******, or lyric poetry, may have been the first one I loved. Although she never knew. I knew though and it killed me. Every time I thought she was gone, every time I though I would have to hunt for new inspiration, she showed back up and gave me pause. I wrote for her and wrote because of her and though I tried a million times I could never write to her. It was, and always will be, my loss.

***** was epic poetry. Ships would move for this girl. Empires would crumble. She was Aphrodite and Helen of Troy. She saved my life completely by accident. I didn't love her, but I loved her. She was perfect. She was important to me. She was a good person. And for some reason, she gave me reason to write. I hope wherever she is and whatever she is doing that she is happy, and that everything is right in her world.

******** was religious music, and to designate her as such may be doing her a great disservice. She was life. And I loved her for it. The others were reasons, and motivations, and inspirations. She was the only one who ever made me consider not writing just for her. So great was what she gave me.

********** was dance, for obvious reasons. She always got my name wrong, but at least she knew something about me. Everything I knew about her was a lie, but I knew that before she even told me anything. She wasn't afraid of me, but she certainly didn't like me, even though she always said she did. That was her job I suppose. She was very good at it. I never really thought about her, never wrote anything for her, but I wrote about her and others like her. And at the very least I owe it to them to have them somewhere on the list of those who have inspired me.

****** was comedy. It was funny how I met her, and funny how I have to see her all the time, and funny that I feel like an ass for the few minutes that I see her almost every day because the very sight of her makes me forget everything that I was thinking nearly instantly. She doesn't even know my name, probably doesn't even know I exist. I don't really know her or anything about her. I don't even really care. But it's funny, because every time I see her the things that run through my mind are enough to fill an entire book. Someday I will.

**** was music. I'm not sure about this one. It's not that there were not a million others that could have taken her place. It's just that right now she's the one that matches up. It's odd because sometimes you see someone and you know, and then sometimes you talk to someone and you reconsider. But she just sorted out rather nicely. And she has a pretty smile to boot.

**** & ******** & *** were astronomy. Because the heavens above had to be just right to lead three such perfect people into my life. They were my friends though I had no right claiming such a friendship. They were special and I loved them for it. I wrote about them, I wrote while thinking about them, and maybe someday I can write a story for them. For they certainly deserve a story.

But then again so many others deserve stories. So many others who inspired me for minutes, or months, or years. Some have faded. Some have taken back seats to others. Some come and go with shocking intensity. But they all played a part, and for that I am grateful.

Muses, and heroes, and those we want to be. There are so many people in our lives, from friends, to family members, to celebrities, and just those people that come and go that can inspire us and spur us forward in action or emotion. There's something special about each of them that brings out something special in us. And if you're reading this just think, maybe one of these people I have described is you...

Just think about it.

muse /myuz/ –verb (used without object)
1.
to think or meditate in silence, as on some subject.
2.
Archaic. to gaze meditatively or wonderingly. –verb (used with object)
3.
to meditate on.
4.
to comment thoughtfully or ruminate upon.