Since I have made reference to the presence of my assigned Muse a time or two, it is only right I provide you all with a formal written introduction. I believe it is important for those who take the time to read the words I have crafted, and profess sometimes to be impressed, to know me, the architect and builder. The introduction to me can be found in the words that I write; along with a formal profile on this site
While it is my unique intellectual and emotional perceptions of the incidents that have taken place during my personal life journey which provide the building materials to construct each of the offerings provided here, it is my Muse, who picks and chooses from the many options of my mind, who decides at what time each one should be constructed and the proper form it should take for it to have the desired impact on those who make the decision the end results of our efforts are pleasing therefore worthy of reading.
Together, my Muse and I, attempt to create a formation of words that emotionally resonate with readers. We desire people to conclude if they can still find me, despite being aware of the shameful flaws I have, worthy they should also feel worthy themselves. One of my most treasured things my Muse has ever reached into my mind and forced me to write is the bold statement “I am imperfectly perfect and that is perfectly fine” These words were always there… waiting for her to force me to reveal them. However, the Muse, who I sometimes really despise, showed her wisdom by waiting for when I decided to make an effort to write and allow others to read what I have written before she inspired me to pen them. I hate to admit it, but these moments of brilliance from her do happen from time to time.
Since I have given a functional introduction to my Muse by telling you how she and I operate in my artistic expression of writing, I now want to provide an introduction to her as an immortal being. I want to be straight from the start…my immortal Muse is not divine by any stretch of the imagination. A fact, made very clear, on the day we first began our relationship face to face when she refused to adhere to the common Muse position of the sideline of its artists charge’s mind. Apparently, my Muse was never informed of this.
Let me start my revelation of my Muse’s immortal personality by telling you how it transpired that we met face to face. Most of my life was spent blissfully thinking, like so many others, a Muse was nothing but a myth and my mind and skill alone should be accredited with the praise for my writing abilities sometimes garnered from others.
When I was in college and developed the passion for politics. Using my the core values and priorities I developed over the years with a formal education in politics I formed my own political views I went online and preached them on political forums and social networks along with others of the same inclination. Doing this, my words were seen by a person who desired to write a book of compiled essays who subscribed to the notion a particular person was the right man to become President of the United States. He was impressed with my writing when I expressed my thoughts so he sent me an email asking me to submit an essay so he could determine if it would be worthy adding to his book.
When I was just about to delete the email that he sent my Muse stormed into my house, without even knocking, and started shaking me while she screamed, “When are you fucking going to stop tuning me out you idiot!” I was not only scared I was also in shock and pissed! I did not know what to do or what to say because this powerful cocktail of emotions her grandiose entrance served me without warning was paralyzing. In my state, she had time to tell me who she was and that she wanted me to write what I felt in an essay and send it to that man right at that moment. Scared and wanting this crazy lady who invaded my house to leave, I did as instructed. The essay was short and the words came from my heart. I did not care if I used words that made me sound educated and I made myself look even more like an idiot when I titled it “A Nobody’s Opinion.” From start to end my task, that she bullied me into completing took me less than 15 minutes. When done she warned she would leave for now but promised, though it felt like a threat, to be back when I would finally be able to believe she was who she said.
While the moment of our meeting was shocking by itself…it was shocking even more when I was informed the essay I sent, under duress, had enough value to be added. I started to think…perhaps what I write does have some value if others, besides me, think it does.
I said out loud to nobody in the room, “How in the fuck could this be?”
There was a knock at the door. When I answered, it was that crazy lady who claimed she was my Muse…she stood there with a smirk. She knew… I was now a believer. Even though I hated doing it, I had to let her in the door and into my life.
From that day the Muse was part of my life. I have many stories to tell about our relationship. Each one will help you know more about her immortal personality. I will share them when she lets me.
By the way….her name is Deloris.
Billie Ann Zahir aka The Eye