July 20, 2021
Awakening the Muse
By Amba Gale
We are in what many indigenous people call “liminal space” – a space between rooms, a space of infinite possibility.
As we gradually make our way out of the last year and a half of our lives, stepping into, and creating, our new, future, may we do so consciously, intentionally, wisely, lovingly. Let us not think about “returning” or “getting back to normal.” Perhaps, just perhaps, there is no “normal,” and there is no “going back.” Let us stop, and listen, and then move forward, following our intuition to guide our way, shedding what must be shed along the way, so that we are freed up to BE.
I have found at least three ways to be guided: by Nature, if I can get quiet enough to hear it speak; by a trusted coach, guide, mentor, or friend, who has had years of experience in the arena I want to guided or coached in, and who speaks the same language I do, and whose words I can “lean into” and trust; and by finding my own intuitive wisdom, my poetic imagination, my Muse.
Coming to connect, coming to meet that guide takes stopping, which is difficult for most of us, as we get busier and busier, efforting and striving, while our lives lose more and more of their meaning. Let us find ways of getting below the surface conversation of our lives, of allowing the strategic mind to stop its incessant pull, and drop down to where lives the Muse: loving us, calling to us, asking to be heard. When we drop down deep, we find ourselves being loved.
I invite you to join me in a rare and special opportunity in the Fall, to engage a conversation in which you can enter into a new marriage with yourself, your poetic imagination, your wisdom, as your trusted guide. From there, your life can unfold and you can trust that unfolding, for your heart will be happy.
By Amba Gale
“Pick up your pen and write,” she says,
that wise and ancient Voice: the devoted Muse,
speaking to me in the grey morning, white
ball of sun
in the sky,
in the water, below.
where the surface conversation has long since disappeared,
I ask a private question: “Of what shall I write?”
“Anything you hear in the deep well of your own heart.”
“Write about the loon mourning the days away.
Write about the turtle who belongs
in the pond among the lilies.
Write about a world of wonders.
Write about me, who will always encourage
you to find me,
to find your self
through these beautiful
white pages in your lap,
through the warmth and smell of the tea
you drink every morning
attending to it smoothing through your body
through the grey soothing sea below
your window carrying the splashing sparks of the sun
dancing dancing dancing
May you meet yourself.
There, may you be delightfully surprised by who you find.”