Sing, Heav'nly Muse

I have high hopes for this blog. I've spent the last week working on the layout, perfecting the fonts, and navigating the world of website ownership, and it is only now that I feel ready to release Just Be to the judicious ears of my friends and family. I have a few drafts ready to be typed, but I felt it necessary to have some sort of inaugural post, an introduction to what I hope becomes an outlet and a source of inspiration.

Truth be told, I'm a little nervous. Although I've spent a good portion of my life writing, I've done very little these past few years. Somewhere between working as a full-time faculty member, involving myself in community events, and raising fur-children, I've not made time for writing. As with any other learned ability, time away means starting over, getting back to the basics, and seeing the complexities of the skill with a new appreciation.

It's not just the time away, however, that makes me nervous. I'm in a very different place now. My thoughts are more focused, my words are more careful, and my awareness is more present. While all these changes have been essential to my well being, they aren't necessarily conducive to the reckless, wild-eyed writings that used to flow so organically from my pen. But maybe that's a good thing...

The blog itself will serve as a place of connection, a meeting spot for the ideas and stories that need to be told. With any luck, I'll write about living a compassionate life, finding fulfillment, the joy and heartache that come from loving others, teaching and learning, dreams, nightmares, and all the other seemingly connected events that make us human.

Calliope, Muse of Epic Poetry

I recently finished teaching the best class of my entire academic career. It was an Intro to English Literature course that was truly remarkable. I worked tirelessly to alter the curriculum in a way that the students would find more interesting, and the results were astounding. I mention this because of a conversation I had with the class about John Milton's Paradise Lost. We spent what seemed like hours talking about his summoning of the muses, "Sing, Heav'nly Muse,"  to give him divine inspiration. The students (many of whom had never been exposed to Milton or the ancient muses) found so much power in this idea of calling on a muse to help him master "things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme." After our discussion, one student stayed behind to tell me how much she enjoyed the class. 

She explained to me that she loved to write but never felt like she had anything new to say. I looked at her with such admiration. She had said aloud what I had been afraid to say for years. So I reminded her that even Paradise Lost was, quite simply, a retelling of one of the oldest stories of all time. With the idea that I'd guide her into a discussion about technique and style, I then asked her, "How do you suppose he was able to make his version so influential, so important?" She smiled, looked out the window, and simply replied, "I guess his heav'nly muse sang."