writing as a mystical experience

I am a writer. Around 20 books, fiction, non fiction, verse, of various sizes and shapes. Probably 4,000 different blog posts. All, every piece written, was inspired before the writing began. I wasn’t writing, then I was. I had to write it, not having a clue where it was headed.

Such as, this blog post, a draft of which fell out of me the night before last. Dreams later that night focused on love and caused me to take out a little bit. Yet:

Love and Truth,

Two sides of the same coin,

They live together,

Or die.

Dreams last night, featuring my Key West amiga Naja Girard and watery matters, pointed me toward publishing that musing today at this blog.

I do not think anyone can be a writer. Unless the Muse is active and pushing, what comes out might be writing, but it is not from the soul, or from beyond that.

I presented at a writer’s conference in the fall of 1990. My topic was “Writing as a mystical experience.” My example was a look at Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea as a metaphor for Hemingway’s own testosterone-driven life to prove himself a man. He was the old man, the boy who got left behind, the boat, the sea, the great marlin phallic symbol, the sharks which took all but the marlin’s head and tail were the cancer that later would destroy his brain and drive him mad. The last novel he completed, his unconscious suicide note.

Same introspection could apply to any author,  I said.

The audience seemed to have no interest in any of that. Nor in, before the writer’s conference, when I struggled with that I would say there, the Hemingway example came to me from out of the blue. The Muse. Or, an angel.

What the audience wanted to know was, what did I do about writer’s block? I said I didn’t get writer’s block. When the Muse was running, I had to write. When I had nothing to write, I was supposed to be doing something else.

I asked if they had read in some book that they were supposed to sit in front of their typewriter or computer so many hours a day, regardless of anything coming out of them onto paper? Lots of heads nodded, yes. I said not all of them were writers. Some of them might be artists, sculptors, craftsmen, plumbers, electricians, lawyers, etc. That did not seem well received, either.

I told Hoodoo Witch the other day, that the Muse is historically feminine, after she said her muse is several men guides, who had been very helpful to me regarding some matters of this world. I said it looks to me she is taking dictation from her guides. When the Muse pushes me, she gives me latitude to embellish, and when she doesn’t like what I write, she corrects me in body and emotional sensations, and in sleeping dreams.

It is my impression that, for the Muse to run freely, a person’s feminine (yin) needs to be somewhat functional.  The feminine is receptive and creative. Looks to me the right side of the brain is the feminine side.

It also is my impression that, a way for a person’s feminine to be made somewhat functional, is to receive writing and speaking assignments from the Muse, or, if you wish, from the soul, or from a spirit being, angel, or whatever. That method was used to help open my feminine.

Another method was being stood in front of a mirror for long periods of time. Yech!

Here’s a poem about my inner muse, which leaped out of me in the spring of 1994:

He feels deep beauty in the dark pool from which his writings flow. She clings to him like fine silk, precious oil. She feels solid, compressed, like … a black pearl, growing from inside out, ever larger with each stroke of his pen, pushing her precious waters over her banks into his dreams and life.

If you think that is not a poem, because it is not formatted like a poem, or it does not rhyme, consider a slightly earlier poem:

Who invented the rule that poetry must rhyme, have pentameter, be cast into verse? Yes, just please tell me who invented that really silly rule? Surely is wasn’t the maker of the first stone – Otherwise, there’d be no stones to break all those slaving rules!

I would learn that all of life is poetry, and that what the Muse had me write had much to do with what was going on in my so-called waking life, or would be going on.

It is my impression that ignoring the Muse is about the same as telling God to fuck off.

Consider also, Hell hath no greater fury than a woman scorned.

Consider further, the Devil, and I mean that literally, would be really pleased for the Muse to never run, except at the Devil’s direction.

The Devil would love for all people’s feminine to be shut down, so that their creativity and hearing from the Muse, their souls, spirit guides, angels, etc., are impaired or shut down.

If you are of the view that the Devil does not exist, then that is just what the Devil wants you to think. You are possessed. Unawares, probably. But possessed nonetheless.

Perhaps having the Muse start running through you, and you honoring Her as if your very life and very soul depend on it, heralds the beginning of your deliverance from Evil, the real deep state, which underlies various so-called deep states that interest various groups of possessed humans on this planet, who habitually spin what they say and write, to suit their own perspectives and drives.

For examples, Hillary Clinton, the Democratic and the Republican Parties, the people currently in the White House, Congress and the U.S. Supreme Court, except Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg and perhaps a few others in those branches of American government. The Muse loves Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

sloanbashinsky@yahoo.com