Eyre Affairs

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Thursday, December 13, 2007

"Following the stream..." ~ Jane Eyre

Who is your muse? Whom do you recite incantations for when you need inspiration to write? I always found the concept of the muse intriguing. When I think of a muse, I think of a marble statue made in Ancient Greece of a goddess sitting in the MET, but in my head she doesn't have any arms; she has a chipped nose and cracks in her feet- perhaps from the difficult move to get her from Greece to New York City back in the early 1900's when she had to ride over in a boat and not a plane. It is not at all surprising that the dominant paradigm for inspiration to artists is a figure in the female form. Shakespeare himself pulled muses into his sonnets and gave them their rightful place in his art. If Shakespeare were alive today, I would stalk him. I would beg him to come to my apartment for a dinner of cheddar cheese and beer fondue, making the gruel thick and slab, and we would talk about his characters as we stuck our forks in bite sized pieces of french bread and dunked them into the bubbly pot. I would ask him questions about his sources for inspiration - about his own personal muses - because you cant write lines in Hamlet such as these and not have a woman in mind when you write: Doubt that the stars are fire Doubt that the sun doth move Doubt Truth to be a liar But Never Doubt I love. Note: I remember reading those words as a young girl of eleven and vowing I would marry the man who ever recited those words to me. Hence, I am almost thirty and unwed. Some men are as emotionally witless as the Prince of Denmark is. Still, I believe that in my stack of cards there is a man who will be more like Prince Hal (though I do not condone his treatment of John Falstaff). It is nights like this when there is a snow storm and I am all cozied up in my apartment that I wish I had a dog, perhaps even a Great Dane. I don't know where the dog would fit, but I would love to own an animal that was my height and that I could keep in the house. There are lots of things I dreamed of when I was eleven that I thought I would have by now: a dog, a diamond, a daisy garden. Tonight I have a 91 point glass of Merlot, sparkling white lights on a Christmas tree, and diamond passed down as an heirloom. I am half interested in writing and half interested in getting my tarot cards read online right now. I have no idea what question to ask tonight. Will there ever be an heirloom tomato in my future that I like? Will I ever travel to Denmark? Will I ever again feel as romantic towards life as I did when I was eleven? In eleven days I am going to be on vacation - I cannot wait. I am off for eleven days. Aside from the revelry of Christmas and New Year's, I shall revel in the time away from my beloved desk. I plan on watching Amelie for the eleventh time in the past two months. The character is a must of sorts for my soul. Tout est parfait en cet instant.



Blogger ..................... said...

i wait for the muse within..
good thing i'm fairly patient. she's been silent for a while..;)

11:21 PM  
Blogger HLiza said...

I love Amelie. Watched it many times too..And reading yours, I realise I don't have a muse..and I don't dream much at eleven..(Now I envy for having those dreams and being able to go on vacation..!)

11:26 AM  
Blogger Patti said...

11 days...~sigh~

12:53 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

There once was a "dog" who said I was his/her "muse"- and I thought that was the most beautiful thing that had ever been said to me...

And when I studied the Muses- it occured to me that I might be more like one of the "Graces" (but not really!) (Euphrosyne (Joy)?- not one who gave inspiration... rather one who brought enough happiness that inspiration could be found within.

I think I would say you are a Grace too...much like Thalia (Bloom)- because ideas, words, and love are always growing here inside of you- and I do believe the garden of your soul is full of more than daisys...but of roses and lillys too :) (and perhaps a little "Jack in the pulpit"? :)

Sigh- so many many times I read you and let my soul slip into your beautiful world- a world of beauty, wisdom, sophistication, and quiet reflective moments. It is always an escape I wistfully walk away from eventually...
With my snoring husband upstairs, and awkward teens resting with cd players and laptops on their beds, and dirty clothes here and there.
Dinner put away- but smudges on the floor and counter tops- and me sitting at my laptop- with a shiny nose from all the heavy pink moisturizer on my 38 year old face- trying (pitifully) to keep my well earned wrinkles at bay.

And I have on plaid pj pants with red heart pooh socks- just to even out the image- lest you think of something nicer :)

My questions are like yours...Will I ever understand the double meaning of Robert Frost's poems?
Why did I sort of fall in love with
Dylan Thomas when I first read him-and then later was confused by him?
Will I go to Ireland?
Will the passionate love I had for my husband 20 years ago...will that fluttery feeling ever return?
Would I trade that for the deeper relationship we have now?

Will I ever have 11 days off? Ever?
(I did have 9 this past summer- partially spent with the above mentioned dog :)

Hugs Amy- sorry this went on so long- I wish you every blessed thing in life, and feel SO certain all things you long for will come.
And for me as well-

Ultimately the only thing I understand thus far is that I am responsible for my own happiness.
When I choose joy for myself- all joy that others add is extra.

Joy, Grace, and blessings to you this beautiful Christmas season :)

-you know who :)

12:53 AM  
Blogger ThursdayNext said...

To Anonymous with an Ancient Greek Name ~

I am grateful that you grace my life each day with your writing. It is not often that a person writes truly from the very core of her heart, and I appreciate it when you do. Your image of my soul and its garden and my Jack at the pulpit made me smile from ear to ear.

With your soul and your heart, I picture you wearing an Irish Aran sweater as you visit all of the counties in Ireland as you recite Heaney and Yeates. When you understand all of Frost's double meanings, I know you will teach me. Beware the butterflies in your stomach that are there when you are in passionate love. I love butterflies, but when they have been there in my stomach for that reason, they are liars. Believe me, I know the changes that occur in a relationship that is long lasting...the beauty of it is that your passion has become immortilized in your children...and even though they are in that teen stage that is oh so frustrating, they are going to emerge as amazing adults, just as you and your husband are.

Now, on to what I need to express the most: Terri Clark has a great song called "The Story" - I was in Georgia this past Easter and picked up her cd and couldnt stop listening to it. The lyrics begin -
"All of these lines across my face tell you the story of who I am"

But in all honesty, I see your photos and see NO lines! :)

Love and Hugs always,

8:14 AM  
Blogger Mayden' s Voyage said...


3:53 PM  

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