Sublime

After all, the Muse is an ancient being, undying and creatively unbounded, while we humans are small and helpless. What could you, a tiny individual in the infinite cosmos, possibly offer the world? So, we call to the Muse to inspire us. We agonize over finding Her. We beg for Her help and inspiration. In the end, the Muse allows mere mortals like

The muse and angel come from outside us: the angel gives lights, and the muse gives forms (Hesiod learned from her). Loaf of gold or tunic fold: the poet receives forms in his grove of laurel. But one must awaken the duende in the remotest mansions of the blood.

Artists have invoked the Muse since time immemorial. There is great wisdom to this. There is magic to effacing our human arrogance and humbly entreating help from a source we cannot see, hear, touch, or smell. Here’s the start of Homer’s Odyssey, the T. E. Lawrence translation: O Divine Poesy, goddess, daughter of Zeus, sustain for me this song of

Writers speak of the role of the muse. They acknowledge that there is something that, as it were, moves them, moves through them, and fires their imagination. Without inspiration, their art feels flat, fixed, lifeless—no matter how fine their technical competence.

Artists have invoked the Muse since time immemorial. There is great wisdom to this. There is magic to effacing our human arrogance and humbly entreating help from a source we cannot see, hear, touch, or smell. Here’s the start of Homer’s Odyssey, the T. E. Lawrence translation: O Divine Poesy, goddess, daughter of Zeus, sustain for me this song of