Detroit Institute of Arts

I am holding a 3 am wake for the deceased day when the shadowy muse darts past a distant door. It occurs to me that I should give more thought to entertaining her.

In the classical sense, a muse embodies the arts and inspires their creation. As she passes by, she may float a memory that wants flesh or whisper a prompt for our improvisation.  The muse is grace personified.

The traditional muses had monikers, genres and logos. For example, the muse known as Polyhymnia specialized in sacred poetry, hymn and eloquence. She also dabbled in agriculture and pantomime. Today, she would adopt a pen name for those activities so as not to alienate her more meditative fan base. Polyhymnia’s badge was a veil. That serves the concept well but is difficult to illustrate in modern graphics.

I don’t see a muse on the list (three to ten ladies—the list expanded with time) that I could invoke. Writing novels and blogs are not classical activities. I confess that my muse looks more like Tinkerbell than Calliope or Thalia; more like a forest sprite circa the Bard or a Greek chorus that assembles from the cast to offer commentary and then does a quick costume change.

I should give her a name, focus her attention on a popular genre and design a logo for her. No, I should ask her to tell me her name, reveal her passion and leave her imprint on my heart.