People want muses to be sexy. Their lives to be sexy. Their nature and essence, sexy. Alcohol makes you sexy by making everything a blur. I'm pretty sure a majority of the people I know who smoke cigarettes started because why? It was sexy. We are attracted to intimacy at our deepest center, seeking the experience to creatively heighten, or, bring to life, an idea, a moment, a string of words, an image. I like to think of it as a dance with inspiration. As it moves toward you, nerves arise, tension builds, shy excitement thrives- for you are completely aware of this moment, all sensations tell you so. Tummy butterflies. Sweaty hands. Your body reminds you to move with inspiration when it comes your way.
But this idea that your muse, your creativity and who you are, must be sexy, omits you from experiencing the innocence of yourself. You take it all too seriously so you no longer put anything on paper because all you see is how you weren't meant for this. An artist. Who? Me? Yes. You!
Art is living, so, if you are, you have rights to artistry. That doesn't mean talent, monetary richness, and wide spread fame. That means you are meant to be here to create things. To put things out into the world from the awesome internal one within. It means starting something to see what happens and allowing the creation of the moment to be your only concern.
What might pop up if you wondered more than you worried?
If you doodled more than you stated?
If you danced more than you stood still?