Oh, for a muse of fire that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention!-Henry V
What I wouldn’t kill for my muse to show up right now. The writers wit, that vim, that vigor of words sprawled effortlessly out on to this page declaring some awe inspiring universal truth that awakens the reader. That muse of fire, and yes my muse is a muse of fire because I’m constantly cold. I need humid scalding heat on my skin to rouse me, from the cold depths of a winter felt far to long.
I’m pretty sure my muse is waiting for me in NOLA, preparing my apartment for the week. He is ensuring that colorful people and music are near by for me to be inspired by. Maybe’s he’s waiting for my body and mind to be unshackled from the litany of medication necessary for me to take to get over this sinus infection. I feel like my face has been replaced by a river of mucus, the daily allergic reaction to the cottonwood trees which keeps my lungs constantly regurgitating coughs, my disc in my back started to yelp at me again after a two year hiatus from the pain of a slight herniation, so a litany of prednisone was placed in the medicinal cocktail, along with a smattering of highly effective multi-vitamins to treat what the doctor described as a vitamin deficiency that created “bad shocks (like for a car)” in my system that weren’t regulating the ups and downs of PMS. Translation…two weeks out of every month I’m overly irritable, low energy, and feel awful.
Now…since I’m not a pill popper, I hate taking medication, in fact, I think honey cures everything…but…not this time. It seems that I don’t have floral allergies thanks to honey, but bees don’t pollinate the cottonwoods, so I’m out of luck. A bucket of honey won’t stop my eyes from wattering.
This is new for me. I’m at the mercy of this physician magician’s mix of meds until Friday….then…I’m supposed to feel better.
Interestingly enough…I’m pretty sure this is an omen. Something really great is about to happen. My body is wiser than I am, it knows I won’t stop running unless it forces me to…like in a major way. It needed me to take care of me and just stop for a minute….or at least a couple of days.
Normally, I would be cursing the stars…and my muse. I can’t move, can’t breath, can’t write anything worth writing, but instead I feel really calm, like a dragonfly waiting for her wings to dry out a bit, right before she takes flight.
So maybe this is a practice in gratitude. I am grateful to have access to good healthcare, a job that allows me the time off, and a good book to read as I sneeze.