How to connect with your muse

It's time to knuckle down and create that blog post, freelance article or the early drafts of that book. You have made the commitment - to others and to yourself - but the inspiration (and motivation) is just not there. The ideas are far and few between and time is slipping away.

This makes you feel anxious, and you know all too well from experience that your muse doesn’t dance hand-in-hand with apprehension. She’d rather move at her own pace, frolicking and twirling on an open ballroom all of her own.

This doesn’t change the fact that there is a deadline looming and white space where your story should be taking form (‘Should’ being used very loosely here).

So how do you connect with the muse when you need to most?

Firstly, it’s important to understand and accept that it’s normal.

It’s normal to be lost for ideas, frazzled and not sure where to go next. Wipe the shame and the judgement. The most prolific of writers experience times when the inspiration is at an all time low. That doesn’t stop them though. There are times when there is ease and flow, and others when whatever is happening in your life (or in your day for that matter), there just isn’t.

Some days the words and messages just arrive, delivered from your brain to your fingertips in a thoughtfully packaged parcel (why thank you!), and other times, there is nada. Zilch. Zippo. I’m the first to raise my hand to this experience.

Here are some tools to help awaken your silent muse, as shy as she may be.

Monsters, young people and stories

Monsters need supplies if they’re to properly scare their victims. Whether that be a bottle of ‘Escalating Panic’ to instill an increasing sensation of pure fear among a crowd. Or maybe if you’re a monster, you’re shopping for ‘Fang Floss’, to remove all common forms of fang-matter, including: brains, gore, bones, viscera, entrails, seaweed, toffee, and much more. Or possibly a bottle of ‘Salt made from Tears of Laughter’ is what you’re after. Made from a century-old craft with the freshest human tears, which are gently boiled, crystallised, then harvested by hand and finally rinsed in brine.

These are some of the supplies you can purchase in the Hoxton Street Monster Supplies store – an ordinary looking shop, which upon expectation, is actually far from ordinary, unless you are in fact a monster. Different bottles and capsules hold normal household items including salt, olive oil, lollies and jam, but it is the stories on the labels that introduce you to a whole new world of imagination and creativity.

This is where storytelling comes to life.

“Behind a secret door accessed through the shop you will find us – the Ministry of Stories. We are a creative writing and mentoring centre for young people in east London. We use storytelling to inspire young people aged 8-18 years because it is our belief that writing unleashes their imaginations and builds confidence, self-respect and communication,” shared Lucy Macnab, the co-director.

Through workshops, publishing projects and one-to-one coaching - services which are provided by local writers, artists and teachers who volunteer their time and talent - young people are supported to express themselves through story.

But what really sets the MoS apart is the way the treat the young people in their care.

“We see each as a young creative professional,” said Lucy.

Why I Write

This big question has been at the forefront of my brain the past week, bouncing around, finding its footing. Finding its grip.

I was nestled in the back corner of one of my many favourite cafes, head phones in and encircled by post-it notes with words and messages when, while tapping away at my laptop I was stopped mid-sentence. I thought: Why do I do this? Why do I write?

The big why.

And you would think the answer would be quite obvious. That it would roll off the tongue without a moment’s hesitation. With full clarity and certainty.

But this wasn’t the case.

I was stumped. Silenced even.

I left the question unanswered. I let it linger, and this is what evolved.

I write because…

* It is integral to my personal happiness and wellbeing

If I don’t write, I don’t feel whole. I feel off-centre and a little wobbly to tell you the truth. When life has gotten too busy, and finding time to write has been a stretch so I’ve ignored the pull, it hasn’t worked in my favour. Lesson here: There is always time to write.

Something sensational happens when ideas and thoughts move from my head and through my body to my fingers, and make their way to the blank canvas before me in the way of words.

Spaciousness is created. Queries and ambiguities become clear(er) when articulated into verses, and everything just makes a little more sense. Who I am, and my place in the world is more evident.

Why do we do many of the things we love? Because frankly, it feels good.

* Creativity is sacred

When I find my groove, each word flows and graciously supports the next word - effortlessly. There is no push. No pressure. Each word has a unique home on the page, and has been chosen because of its exclusive relevance to the message and the quality it expels. The sentences begin to sing. The punctuation emphasizes each. and. every. word.

It is my doorway to the creative realm. Where colours morph and shapes transform. Where smells are portrayed and places are reinvented. Where life is full of possibility.

When this happens, I feel a beat to my walk, and a hop to my skip. This kind of self-expression brings me happiness and reminds me to keep doing what lights me up from the inside out.

There is a yearning; a fire in my belly, and experience has taught me that those feelings cannot be ignored.

Mindful Words

 This

There’s no law against my listening

to this thrush behind the barn,

the song so loud it echoes like a bell,

then it’s further off beyond the lawn.

Whatever else there is, there’s this as well.

There’s no law against this singing –

nesting I suppose – up in the silver birch,

even though we build a common hell,

have done, and will make it worse.

Whatever else there is, there’s this as well.

- Maitreyabandhu (2011)

“I became a Buddhist because I wanted to learn more about my potential as a human being,” said Maitreyabandhu, teacher at the London Buddhist Centre in East London’s Bethenal Green. 

“I realised this when I was a 25 years-old fine arts student who wasn’t all that happy. I was lost, complicated, quite depressed and seeking some sort of meaning,” he added.

Damien Hirst and Sarah Lucas – Maitreyabandhu's close friends who today are both well-known artists– encouraged him to attend a meditation class at the centre in 1986. By 1987, he had moved into the residential community above the centre and by 1990, was ordained into the Triratna Buddhist Order and given the name Maitreyabandhu. Now a teacher of Buddhism and meditation at the centre, Maitreyabandhu introduces beginners much like his former self to the practice.

“Meditation quite literally opened me up to a much more fortunate and fulfilled life,” Maitreyabandhu explained.

“ A divine way of just being really."

Maitreyabandhu

The centre was once a burnt-out fire station, abandoned and mistreated, when a group of men and women saw the possibility of the space in the 1960s and over three years, converted the derelict building into a haven of peace.

“During this time, Bethenal Green was a very poor community, living in very hard conditions. There was a need for something else. A reason to believe that there was more,” shared Maitreyabandhu.

Now the centre is opened six days a week, offering meditation, yoga, art and community events as well as retreats.

Always fascinated by words, imagery, playful puns and clever alliteration, Maitreyabandhu said his love of poetry began when a friend read him the first five verses of Shelley's Mask of Anarchy. "It was one of those moments when one discovers a new ecstasy, even a new calling. After that I read and re-read Shelley and Keats obsessively and used their poetry to explore ancient Buddhist themes," he said.