Joy is a conduit for procreative power. Want to write pain-free?
Follow joy.
For me joy includes the warmth of sun on my skin, its color and light, which are the primary reasons I live in Florida; waking up when my body feels “slept out” versus to the sound of alarm; napping on the beach; non-stop guffaws during a comedy club set; paddle boarding in the Gulf of Mexico. Long walks. Scooter rides. Deep, authentic exchange over long, slow dinners. Nurturing imagination.
Joy is a fertile environment for ideas. It makes us receptive. Rather than attempt to “capture” the Muse as the expression often goes (and conjures cowboys wrangling steer and wrestlers pinned to the floor), we can create space for her. In joy we are blank scrims. When we are not already filled with answers, the Muse accepts our invitation to scribe what she knows. In joy we are playful, willing to experiment, to engage with wonder.
Have you ever been in a restaurant and the folks three tables over are having a blast, the energy of good times enveloping their space, and you wonder about the source of their joy? I have been both attracted to and seated at those tables at different times in my life. The Muse is like that. She’s attracted to people having a ball.
In joy we are present, not behind or ahead. Present is open space for the Muse to step through. Behind or ahead means our minds are filled, racing with to-do lists, anxieties. The Muse knows we are too busy to play; she will return to us some other time.
In joy we hear what’s clear and true. We are not straddling stations, picking up a multitude of airwaves. The Muse’s programming is static free.