Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Cramps Come in All Shapes and Sizes


Occasionally during the end of my Zumba class I am thwarted by a charlie-horse in my right calf. Sometimes they visit me during a long, morning stretch.  Let's not forget those delightful cramps that occur monthly to remind me of my Woman Power.

I'm beginning to realize that these are not the only kind of cramps I experience.

My muse is cramping.  I have been riding a vicious cycle of fretting over my never-ending-to-do-list and being frustrated with myself for a lack of inspiration, thought, creativity and writing.  Stirred into the mix of anxiety and frustration is the clutter that has built up around my environment.  While I had been on a purge-binge a neck strain pulled me down for a week and I'm still playing catch-up with myself.

Our garage is an enclosed and detached space with multiple purposes.  It houses my husband's home office, tools, my treadmill, a pool/ping-pong table, freezer and food pantry.  Unfortunately, it also functions as a catch-all-just-put-it-in-the-garage-I'll-take-care-of-it-later space.  I'm sure you don't have to guess where all of the purged items from the house have gone.   As you can see the pool table makes for a magnificent canvas on which to place a lot of cra...er, stuff.

Every morning I have awakened to feeling abandoned by my muse.  Where is she and when will she return?  I need her.  There are so many things I want to do, but I can't do them without her.  I need to be inspired.  I need her to inspire me.

It hadn't occurred to me that she had not abandoned me at all.

I have slowly begun to realize that my muse has not gone anywhere.  She is buried beneath a huge pile of cra...er, stuff that I have been putting off and putting off; curled up, muscles cramping from being trapped in tight quarters.  Inspiration does not thrive in the midst of procrastination.  Inspiration does not thrive in a cluttered environment.  Inspiration does not enter when you cannot see the door to open it and invite it in.  Inspiration does not show itself when it is hidden beneath all the things you have unsorted, stacked and piled up around promises of later.  While I fretted over my to-do list, rather than doing it, the voice of my muse became muted.

It's time for her to sing.

"If you can't find the time to do it right when are you going to find the time to do it over?"

I couldn't find the time, but I made the time and my muse is slowly awakening from her slumber as light once again begins to shine through the cracks and crevices of my mind-FULL of cra....er, stuff.  She is once again finding room and space to move, stretch, breathe and grow.


I feel as though an incredible amount of weight has been lifted from my shoulders as I scratch one (and now two) things off of the never-ending-to-do-list.  There is a glimmer in my muse's eye.  She nods with acknowledgment while taking notes as I ponder the ideas bouncing around in my head.  She stretches and yawns and moans with delight because I have finally cleared a path for her.  Light-beams shine on her face and she can feel the warm glow of the morning sun.

"Ahhh...it's going to be a beautiful day."

I think I'll get her some coffee.

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