Don't Beat the Muse

I couldn't do it. I was supposed to leave at 11:30 yesterday to go meet up with Jen and Caroline. By 11:15, I had to admit that I just didn't have the energy. I felt guilty as I spoke to Jen's machine. I need to cancel. Call me. Let's do something soon. Soon. But not today.

And then there was Christina -- and more guilt. In the last few days she has been agitated about her burns (understandably!), her garbage delivery schedule, her phone bill, her smoke detector, the TV viewing schedule, and the date/time stamp on her TV. Yesterday, it was her cell phone. She stopped me as I was getting in the van to take Alex to school to ask if I could help her so I stopped by her place as soon as I got back. I couldn't figure it out though. She asked if Mark could, and I said, maybe, but he wasn't dressed yet and it could be a half hour before he could come over to take a look at it. She didn't like that. A half hour without her cell phone? I reminded her that she has a land line that is fully functional, but that fact did nothing to soothe her. So I took the phone home to Mark, who couldn't fix it either. I took it back to Christina. She showed up on my doorstep a couple of times, but I was working yesterday -- nine hours primarily spent writing and getting submissions recorded and in the mail. I stood in the doorway and talked to her, but I wouldn't let her in my house. She called. I took the first call or two, then quit answering the phone. I felt bad doing so, especially since she could clearly see our van out front and knew we were home, but I cannot let her suck me and my family into the dark hole of her despair. I pray that I will be kind to her, available whenever and however I can. But "whenever and however" are not "always and in any way." I have a sneaking suspicion that even her family members are screening their calls. She's always saying, "I can't get ahold of my brother/my daughter/etc." I can't blame them! And yet I wonder what kind of guilt they must feel. I feel bad as it is, when she is only a neighbor I met six months ago, someone to whom I have no emotional attachment. What if she were my sister, my mother? I cannot even imagine what it would do to a person to carry that kind of weight around with them everywhere.

This morning I woke up and found that I couldn't write. My first inclination is to push myself. Push, push, push, produce, produce, produce ... But for some reason, as I sat with my journal, staring into the blankness of my head, I thought of an athlete. If she wants to be the best she can possibly be, she must push herself. Hard. Excellence does not come easily. But she also has to eat right and get enough rest. And if she injures herself, she mustn't ignore that injury. Perhaps with the right care and careful attention, she can push on through the pain. Sometimes that is what the game requires. But ignoring pain outright and just barrelling on, regardless of consequences, can turn a minor injury into something far more severe, perhaps even permanent. And so today, rather than trying to sprint on my "sprained ankle," I sat back and rested. I put down the journal, abandoned the computer temporarily, and set about feeding my soul with the poetry others have produced. Did I waste my writing time because I did nothing but rest? No, despite my ever present guilt when I am not productive, I truly think that rest was the best thing I could have done for myself this morning.

Flannery O'Connor said something that inspires me. I can't remember the exact quote but it's something along these lines: "I don't know if my muse will show up on any given day, but I'm going to be at my desk, waiting, in case she does." I like that. Yet I would add a line. "If my muse shows up and she is weary of life, beating her with a stick is not likely to make her perk up!" My muse and I can take a day or two to be blah. The world won't come to an end. And soon, we'll be back out on that track, pushing for the prize.