If there is one way that I think I can break through the Muse’s absence it is to share some wisdom from other writers. Perhaps surrounding myself with the written words from other’s Muses will help me to stir up my own words as I struggle once again in a sea of creative silence. So I gather up the myriad scraps of paper from around my desk and my bedside table and pick a few to share with you. And as I do so, I am hoping to open the flood gates of my own words which are momentarily locked away inside my heart.
“For those who believe in Jesus Christ, there is no sorrow that is not mixed with hope.” (Van Gogh)
“Guidance comes when you are feeling relaxed and peaceful. Gradually, you learn to trust the wisdom that comes to you in this relaxed, peaceful state, to speak the words you are guided to say, and to take
the actions you are inwardly directed to take, even if you don’t fully understand why you are being asked to take them.” (Paul Ferrini)
“Laughter is the sun that drives winter away.” (Anonymous)
“Do not walk behind me. I may not lead.
Do not walk in front of me. I may not follow.
Just walk beside me, and be my friend.” (Camus)
“We look forward to the time when the power of love will replace the love of power. Then will our world know the blessing of peace.” (William Gladstone)
“Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep.” (John Milton)
“Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strength.” (Charles Spurgeon)
“We are often so caught up in our destination that we forget to appreciate the journey, especially the goodness of the people we meet along the way.” (Anonymous)
“I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting station through which God speaks to us every hour, if we will only tune in.” (George Washington Carver)
“It’s not just what we do but what we don’t do for which we are accountable for.” (Moliere)
I may just have to share some more wisdom from others for a few days in order to get my own creative juices flowing again. And, as I close this writing, I am just having a “ta-da” moment: supposing I asked God to help me instead of sitting in miserable apathy – light bulb. Maybe my soul is beginning to resurrect. See you on the pages!
Dear God, how awesome is your work!
As we drive through the rolling hills of Georgia and Tennessee,
the amazing canvass that you continuously create
unfolds before our very eyes, mile after never-ending mile.
Oh God, what fun you must have had.
Eyes ablaze with inspiration, sweeping color-laden brushes
across earth’s length and breadth,
perhaps an artist’s black beret perched askance upon your head.
And as the Muse’s smile spread over you face
you laid down all the vibrant hues of Fall.
(A touch of Michelangelo? Da Vinci? or Van Gogh?
You gave them all their talents Lord, thus you own their gifts.)
A rich and glowing riot of red and burnished gold
with blazing orange amidst patches of deep deciduous green.
Then here and there, as if to satisfy my passionate purple soul,
a bush or two in lustrous olive-violet or darkest aubergine.