I’ve finally worked my way through the first part of The Nine Modern Day Muses (and a Bodyguard) book. My thoughts follow…
Name your dream —
To get paid for work I create as an artist/writer
To comfortably support myself and my family doing work that I love
To live in a comfortable, spacious home which accommodates all of our needs and interests
To skillfully balance finances, work, home and family responsibilities
To find my tribe(s) and develop deep, meaningful friendships
To find a way to use my talents to enrich the lives of others in a meaningful way
To strengthen my connection to ALL THAT I AM and in doing so, open the wellspring of spirituality
To connect on a deeper level with my loved ones
To live more healthfully, integrating proper nutrition, exercise and spiritual practice into my life
Essences that come with fulfillment of the dream —
Freedom to create my own schedule
Time to nurture my needs and those of others
The comfort and luxury of prosperity (this one was in the book, but I couldn’t have said it better myself)
To find meaning in all that I do
To elicit growth in myself and others through my writing/art
A healthy body, mind and spirit; a longer and more fruitful existence
Childhood private-eye work —
When I was a child, we played many role-playing games. We’d play school, and I enjoyed being student as much as teacher, and would often forfeit the teacher role to appease some other, less compliant, kid. I loved playing spy or detective board and role-playing games. I loved looking through the microscope, but was more fascinated by the myriad colors in whatever object I was viewing through the lens rather than ponder on its chemical composition or molecular structure. I loved to read and to write. I loved to learn all about rocks and minerals, and the natural world. By third grade I’d figured out that I was best-suited to live in either California or Florida—they represented the perfect climates for me, and I’d studied much about the demographics and economics of each state. They were Oranges in my very Apple world.
I loved to play with Barbie dolls and could role play for hours. My dolls took on roles of doctors and fashion designers, and everything in between. I fashioned furniture for them out of tissue boxes and made clothes for them from material scraps.
I remember my very first easel… I was around 4… I loved to paint, swirling my wet brush around on the cake of paint until it had the consistency of pudding—my favorite color was royal blue. When I was around 6, one of our neighbours had a visitor come ’round—must have been a family friend—he rounded us kids up into a pack and drew pencil sketches of each of us. I remember being ever so impressed with his rendition of ME! and thinking “I can do that!” I started drawing things. As all kids are prone to do, I used to trace stuff, but as I got more confident, I progressed to freehand drawing. I loved to write, too, and from about third or fourth grade onward, I kept a journal. I still have an Enid Blyton book that my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Simpson, gave me at the end of the school year, with a standing order to “Never stop writing!” And so it has been.
I love to write and yet I question the intrinsic value of it — will anyone want to hear what I have to say? How will my writing make a difference in someone’s life–would my writing make a positive difference in some way, or will it simply be dead weight, or a useless bit of fluff? This applies to my art as well. Same quandary. However, I have found that whether others like to hear me or not, the urge… this uncontrollable urge to CREATE for the sake of it… happens regardless of the existence of audience or accolade.
Another butterflies-in-the-stomach inducing activity: travel… particularly to foreign countries. The more out of my element I am, the more exciting and adrenaline inducing the experience. New cultures, new foods, new textures, new languages… it’s all good.