Meet My Muse: Ingrid
I feel it’s only fair to start off my writing habit by talking about my muse.
Her name is Ingrid. Her hair is wild and light and full of tangles. Her eyes are a deep grey and wrinkled in the corners. She has seen so much. She breathes life into people by the way she listens to them. She is captivated by everything and everyone, but especially by stories, as we all are. She is patient and brave. She has felt heartbreak and sorrow that most could never imagine. These experiences never grew into bitterness, only empathy and wisdom.
Ingrid is a bit of a loner, but all those who are derived from the source of inspiration tend to walk their paths alone. To actually be inspiration incarnate is exhausting. It requires all of one’s being at any moment. You never know when you will be called away to partner with a mortal and create moments of brilliance. Of life spilled onto paper or canvas or song. It takes such monumental energy to bridge the gap between the groundedness of earth and the light of the divine, and those who serve as this bridge must take long, restfull breaks in between.
You’ll find Ingrid wandering through nature during her breaks; gently, quietly. Her favorite places are surrounded by tall grasses and pastures and sweet breezes. She’ll rest lying on a hilltop or against the side of a cave in the countryside. Animals rejuvenate her with their simplicity. They ask nothing of her. She carries a tall, weathered walking stick. On it, she has carved each moment of inspiration that she has delivered to a mortal. It is her life’s work.
The first time I met Ingrid, I was seven years old. She came to me in the way that was easiest to reach me in my youth: in the pages of a book. I devoured books. I worshipped books. So if you wanted to find me, this was a good method. She was kind and gentle when she approached me. She whispered in my little ear, “That magic you feel when you read the words in this book? You can create that magic too. You can, and I am here to help you. Whenever you are ready.” And then she sat by my side. She did not sigh heavily with impatience, or flip through the pages of a magazine, or ever dare to ask me to hurry along. She just waited in kindness and love, until I picked up a pencil and began to write.
We wrote my first book together. It was about a turtle.
Her approach is no less patient or loving today, though usually more specific. It is a nudge in a certain direction. A, “Don’t you think that hotel is interesting?” or a, “I think it’s time to get those feelings out, don’t you?” Often these nudges lead me to feverish bouts of writing. I am restless and manic and cannot do anything until I have gotten everything onto paper. But it is never Ingrid who is restless or manic. She is always sitting patiently with me; in kindness, in love. Posing curious questions, surprising me with bursts of laughter, nodding approval when I doubt myself.
As I begin this season of creativity in my life, a time when I am finally, finally allowing myself to prioritize this elemental part of my being, I would like to extend the following invitation to Ingrid:
Dearest Ingrid,
I have been so honored by your patience. Not a begrudging patience, but a wise, kind patience. You have known more than I ever could that I needed time. I needed experience and love, but most of all, I needed hardship and suffering. I needed to be pruned back to the most elemental version of myself before I could begin to give back to the world. But we both know I have walked through the fire, and I have come out on the other side with clear purpose.
I am on this earth to create. I am here to lift up women. I am here to give voices to the voiceless. And I am ready to do the work. I am ready to show up here, night after night, and pluck away at these keys. I am humbly inviting you, Ingrid, to join me. In my cozy little corner of my tiny duplex, with the statue of Buddha and the quirky art. After my daughter is sleeping, whether or not the dishes are done, probably with a glass of bourbon. But I will be here, and I hope you will join me.
I’m ready for us to make magic.
Cheers,
KJ
