My Lover, My Muse

Photo: Bryan Brenneman

I remember a time when sitting down to write was a chore. It didn’t matter that writing is my profession of choice, and that I’d spent years eagerly refining compelling lead sentences at newspapers and magazines. Or that I had several unpublished labors of love-hate, full-length book manuscripts that had at one time swept me up in a fevered creative ordeal. All of it had the flavor of marathon running, a sort of gritty commitment to see something through to a punishing finish line.

Then one day six months ago, my relationship to writing changed. Now, without warning, I’ve become a sprinter, a muse-driven chariot of wordsmithing, a glorious language slut and a consort to a tell-all demon, a confessional urge that insists on going intimately public in blogsbooks and radio shows. If I knew enlightenment meant inviting the world into every nook and cranny of my heart, I might have hesitated. As it stands, it’s a bit too late to say no thank you the reportorial word river that flows through me—that would be tantamount to erecting a beaver dam to slow down Niagra Falls.

This post is short and sweet. I just want you to know I’m burning up in the inferno of creative flow. And instead of fortifying this personality, soldifying it into a “writer” I am being cindered. There is so little of me left some days, when the writing is done, I drift like ash through the world, airborne and light.

This feeling of disappearing used to happen only when I wrote poetry. Then, I would open up like a fully dilated cervix to allow the birthing of a poem. Now, everyday I am a fully open faucet for the torrent of words. Poems, blogs, books and more, are pouring out of me, not-me.

And this is my lover, this muse of words. He whispers softly into my ear as I drift to sleep at night and then slips into my dreams and seeds me with inspiration and ideas. By day, he takes me with great force, binding me to my desk and riding me hard. I’m alive to his touch, awake to his urging, fully penetrated by this daimon that would have me shatter to bits any idea that I can hide from my reader the story he tells. I am the dictation taker, yielding to the voice that proclaims itself heard. I am nothing but the empty space into which his words write themselves.

The other day a friend lamented that in his post-awakening life, he was drifting without clear purpose. A professional photographer for years, he now felt no passion for his craft. My advice to him was in the form of a simple Rumi quote: “Let the beauty of what you love be what you do. There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the earth.”

I am kissing the earth with written words, kneeling before my lover-muse for as long as he will have me. Awakening has left me free and fearless to bow before my own destiny.

I’m wondering: How do you kiss the earth with what you love to do?

Awareness is here, (and plugging my latest muse-driven piece at elephant journal, Are Weapons of Mass Distraction Keeping You from Inner Peace?)

Lori Ann



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13 thoughts on “My Lover, My Muse

  1. Marji

    Follow your Bliss and the Universe will open Doors for you where there were only Walls. ♥

    ~ Joseph Campbell

    … oh the sweet surrender … to be a fully open to divine flow …. in love and light to you Lori … <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3


  2. reaction2creation

    Since finding your blog I am opening in new ways.
    Relationships seem more chance than not, and I find myself risking and exploring.

    The rush of not knowing but feeling isn’t my pattern but I lean into it and push forward.
    It isn’t your words that move me but the spaces between them. What a celebration.


  3. bneal817

    Your words drip with divine beauty, and a playful and sensual honesty… Your lover/muse chooses them well 🙂

    Your writing is just delightful to read, as always. Peace and love,

    ~ Ben


  4. Keith Davie

    What a conceptual gift! I’d no idea that it might have been my awakening that had precipitated my feeling of “drifting without purpose”, as you suggest! You’ve given me something huge to think about!
    Blessings – Keith


  5. waynewirs

    I have a saying, “The less there is of me, the more there is of Her.” By “Her” I mean God / the One Intelligence / the Source of all inspiration. Your (and my) “Muse”.

    When I woke up, I went through that doldrums period, but soon, She awoke in “me,” my/our/The Muse.

    When there is no “you,” then there is only Divine working through the silly mortal body.

    Great post Lori Ann. Thanks for pointing this out for the “Emptiness” seekers.


  6. Davidya

    For your photographer friend, this is not so unusual. For some, there is a bursting forth of liberation, a big celebration of being. Others may find a “drier” shift initially. Old ego drivers fall away, leaving one without former passions. In this case, there are deeper, more subtle drivers to come forward but some more clearing and refinement may be needed first.

    Adyashanti describes how with some, the open space of awareness can invite what is unresolved to rush forward and be seen. Pay attention to how you feel, how the body is. Notice points of resistance. Allow those to rise into the space of awareness to be resolved. I’ve also found culturing gratitude to be very useful. It creates a positive vibe that allows moments of deeper surrender (much as you describe) that allows those deep holdings to break loose.

    It’s a little like puberty. Theres a big range in how it can be experienced but the underlying process is the same. The journey is not over with awakening. Rather, you’ve reached a platform from which to really flower.


    1. awarenessishere

      Davidya, thanks for your thoughtful comment. Yes, surely the journey has just begun, and yes to gratitude, which is seems to be the baseline stance, a kind of WONDERment at existence and frothy delight. ANd yes, even tired and grumpy, I feel grateful.


  7. Kate Street

    Oh, this is beautiful and sensual (and WHAT a sexy picture!).
    I’m experiencing “spherical creativity” ~ everything I look at, touch, wear I’m thinking “how can I make this art?” It’s all encompassing ~ from creating beautiful meals (with handpicked “weeds” and flowers that I’ve foraged) complete with colorful napkins and plates, flowers on my plates and floating in my drinks (my breakfasts have been so pretty I’m compelled to take pictures!), to going to the beach to find driftwood to make into art, to examining my closet to see how to make my clothes more sparkly, alive, and ME! I want to make everything beautiful! I’m having so much god damn FUN!!!
    And I love reading your experience, Lori Ann. Just beautiful.


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