in-spi-ra-tion n

1.    a: a divine influence or action on a person believed to qualify him or her to receive and communicate sacred revelation; b: the action or power of moving the intellect or emotion;  c: the act of influencing or suggesting opinions

2.    the act of drawing in; specif: the drawing of air into the lungs

Muse vb

to become absorbed in thought; esp: to turn something over in the mind meditatively and often inconclusively

Muse n

1.    a state of deep thought or dreamy abstraction

2.    any of the nine sister goddesses in Greek mythology presiding over song and poetry and the arts and sciences.

3.    a source of inspiration; esp: a guiding genius

*Definitions provided by Merriam Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary

What is inspiration, exactly? I mean, there are so many definitions. The Greeks called upon the muses, other’s resort to psychedelics, almost all draw from within. Inspiration is the impetus, the deeply felt yet untouchable spark that galvanizes into action and creation. It’s the visualization of a person, place or thing that unlocks sensory memory from within to manifest into the outer. Quite often it comes to you when you least expect it (or in my case when I’m least ready for it, with no recorder or pen and paper nearby). Yet, when it strikes what a thing of unimaginable beauty.

There is a piece I need to create. It’s in a medium I am moderately versed in, so my level of confidence and breadth of knowledge is limited, making the ground I stand on a tad shaky. But I have to do it. I have to make it. I spend day after day,night after night, listening, waiting for that opening note to ring in my ear.For that first bar to play or even just the chorus. With anything I’ve ever made, I always have the end in mind first, then start at a beginning and fill in the rest until I wind my way to the conclusion. With this piece, I’m lost out there without a marker. Should I call upon Clio or Euterpe? Or is it Polyhymnia or Terpsichore? I can never be sure. All these sister’s disciplines feed into one another, making it difficult to call upon only one, as the others will inevitably follow. I try nonetheless listening to countless hours of music, hearing what I like, what I think my piece needs to sound like. Yet nothing, not a single note moves me in that deep way as to release the stricture within that’ll get me going.That’ll get me feeling the notes and movements to ebb, flow, fall and eventually rise in dramatic crescendo.

If you were to ask me why I willingly go through this rigamarole, I couldn’t tell you why. There’s just this incredible inexplicable need to make something, to bring something to life no matter how complicated or convoluted. I create because if I don’t, I’ll die. I’d fall into a depression and completely lose sight of myself, simply withering away. What I create is the only means for me to honestly communicate with the world. It’s not that I have particularly profound things to say, I just only know how to be true through my creativity.

I do not believe that the creative process is restricted to ‘artists,’ after all the muses brought inspiration to politicians, mathematicians, historians and scientists. I believe inspiration is about an individual taking a deep breath in and exhaling their truth. It really doesn’t matter how it comes out, as long as it respects and honours your self and the community surrounding you. So, I’ll keep huffing and puffing, anxiously waiting to hear that first note, continuing to remind myself that it’s not all about me.

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