By Dale Eldon
Authors and the writing that spawns to life from their fingertips are connected. Every author has a different take on how it works, but from my point of view, the author and the muse are simpatico.
The core element for good writing has to come from happiness. In order for the right words to appear, the love has to be at the center of the core.
In order for any decent writing to come from me, the muse and I have to be in sync. It is impossible for her and I to coexist if we are not in harmony. The life we share is symbiotic. Each needing the other to become more then we would be apart. A lot like a good marriage. The problem here, is that the muse is a part of my mind. Sure she gets fired up over external inspirations, but she is basically an alter ego. So when I am in a slump, usually so is she. We are that connected. No matter how much I try to be happy, or even if I am in a decent mood it just isn’t the same as being happy naturally. The muse craves the same things that I do. Love.
I love my family. I love my friends. But so often I feel like a drifter in the middle of the ocean. I am sprawled out in a life raft looking through pictures of better times as my body slowly dies of dehydration. Here I am surrounded by water, and I can’t drink any of it. That is how my life feels. I have plenty of reasons to be happy, but I still cannot have these reasons to embrace. They are like the water. I can see them, but I cannot touch them.
My muse withers with me. In symbiotic relationship, we need each other to survive. We are not just compatible, if that were the case, then we could leave the other and no damage would be done. We would just seek out a new partner. But like soul mates, we hinge on the other without draining ourselves. Together we are a force. The muse, however, cannot pull me out of the slump. As strong willed as she is, my emotions ultimately control her.
Its strange, a lot of the time I don’t realize just how far out in the vast aquatic desert I have drifted. The longer I am stranded, the worst my mental condition becomes. The brain parasite called, “self pity” slowly eats away at any hope of happiness. It then continues to make me jaded, and diminishes my zest for the wonders of life. The once happy-go-lucky me is now becoming an empty shell for this parasite to live.
As much as I may have going for me (as I have been told by supporters), I am still drifting in this raft. From time to time I will see a search and rescue chopper fly overhead, but usually they don’t see me. I try to get their attention, but it is useless. Then when all hope is lost I see an angel. So far every time an angel appears to me, she is only around for a short time. And every time she gives me a little strength to push on. And again, an angel has appeared to me. The purest to visit yet, and again I feel my soul being rejuvenated. There is never a guarantee if the angel will stick around. There are so many factors that have to work for her to. But this angel is different than the others. She is extra special. Her grace makes me forget the raft, the dehydration, the self-pity; suddenly I am reforged.
I don’t know how long this angel will stay with me. What I do know is, for every moment I have with her, I am that much more thankful for. Somehow this beautiful creation of God has opened something up in my mind that I cannot open on my own. Not even my muse can reach this area. My dear angel who doesn’t have to try, she is a natural at bringing me back to life. And when I am in her presence I the aquatic desert become a tropical paradise.
So, what have I learned? How have I changed?
I have learned that no matter how much I work on bettering myself, that I will never be the man I want or need to be on my own. I need my angel. Just like my muse, I need that simpatico relationship. For I alone cannot live without her. One person cannot live in a symbiotic relationship. It is impossible. Perhaps angels are suppose to come and go until one decides to stay. Maybe this angel is the one. Maybe not. Regardless, I am thankful for her. Even if she only here to wake me up and show me this side of life.
It is easy to forget who we are as depression eats away at our soul. And like any good parasite the self-pity is inconspicuous as it slowly destroys us. The words cannot flow without love, and without love there is not happiness.
For some writers this darkness works for them. And I am glad that they have that as a muse. But for a lot of us we need that love. It can appear in many forms. I talk of my angel who is a beautiful woman from another country with view point that is refreshing, and creative. She can child like, but still be adult. She is intelligent, and graceful. This someone I would love to get to know more, and spend as much time with her as God will allow. That for me is the love. I have a beautiful daughter who also inspires me, though at this point I am in a position where I can’t be there for her. And though she the most important thing in my life, I need to be able to be apart of hers. And I cannot do that in this raft.
A lot of us have our own problems. No one has a monopoly on suffering. With that said pain is something that unites us. The despair that becomes the bane of our existence, is with most writers. Just because we may have a different way of looking at life, doesn’t limit our despair. In a lot of ways it increases it. A lot of writers become more sensitive to the world around them, they have to if they want their characters to come life. Even if the author is writing a non-fiction title, they can get so wrapped up in a person that they are writing about that they can feel their pain. Writers are conduits of emotions, ideas, and philosophies. We absorb mindsets that we may not even agree with, we take in the world of others, understanding their world better then they might themselves.
It is important to find that love. To find that ballast. Maybe even several loves. Like children, spouse, and other family, God; just like a tanker having more than one anchor to hold it in place. Love is the ballast that keeps us steady, it is what drives us, and completes us. Even if we are without what we need most, we need to keep our eyes on it at all times.
