They’re not truly dead, of course, those Muses. They are immortal – even the ones who consider themselves to be human. They’ve gone though, for now at least. Another one left this morning.
Have you noticed? Are you missing them too?
There was a time when they reached so close, touched our thoughts, answered our tremulous questions and inspired our imaginings with a generosity of spirit and a wisdom so deep and wide that we felt nothing was secret, nothing was hidden from us. All we had to do was to wonder and they would be there with a sign, a comment, a synchronicity that proved to us that we were heard and supported and – yes – expanded by their inspiration.
We were such a sensitive, anxious bunch, back then in the years surrounding Y2k and 2012. Was the world going to end? How would that look? Were we ‘birthing a new Earth’, some kind of parallel planet where we would be gods? Would there be the fires, the floods, the earthquakes and famines that had ended previous ages? Did we really have to go through all that again? Reawakening, rebirthing, rediscovering our true selves… re- just about anything you could hold a candle up to. What did it all mean?
We needed answers. We needed to know the things religions had never seen fit to share with us, the things science hadn’t addressed, the things Hay House and Gaia and the Shift Network tantalisingly offered to sell us, if we had enough $$$$.
That was when the muses arrived. They were quiet, gently spoken. They answered our questions with courtesy but rarely initiated the conversations. Each utterance was filled with a Knowing of divine proportions. I would listen with reverence, take their words and wrestle with them until I could make some sense of what I was learning. Then I’d pour those words into my books or my blog or my coffee shop conversations with trusted friends.
Now, save for a very few, they have gone. Did they answer all the questions we needed to ask? Perhaps.
I miss them, that’s for sure. But maybe they shared all the Knowing they needed to before moving on to other missions. For those we know as fellow humans, those ‘other missions’ may be happening in some part of their greater selves which is not currently visible to us at all. For those who came to us through channelled voices or spiritual guidance – well – we can’t even guess. All I know is that during those magical years, the Muses gave us precious gifts, and I will always be so very grateful.
The Quietness is sad and deafening, at times, but I take comfort in the thought that, like the legendary Arthur, who sleeps beneath Albion, ready to awaken when he is needed, they will return when the time is right. “Assume it’s temporary,” one of the Muses told me once, and another – the one who left today – instructed me to “Trust the Silence.”