The Missing Muse

19 02 2010

© February 2010 by Lopez©

As G. pointed out when I read him my first poem Musings, I left out two of the chakra colors. I did not know I was writing about the chakras, but it was obvious to him. And after he said it, I was curious to know what colors I had left out, why I had left them out and what it said about my subconscious mind.
I went to my favorite friend, Google, to check out the Chakras colors and had to laugh when I saw what colors were left out: Indigo and Green. Yep, two areas of my life where I have real difficulties. No wonder I “forgot them.”
According to the website, INDIGO relates to self responsibility: being responsible for one’s own life, responsible to oneself to follow the soul’s path and needs and trusting one’s own intuition. The ability to see things from a “higher” viewpoint rather than purely for satisfaction of the ego or one’s material comfort. The indigo energy connects us to our unconscious self, and gives us the experience of being part of the whole universe. Strengthens intuition, imagination, psychic powers, and increases dream activity.
I am still not very good at figuring out what I will be when I grow up. It has become clearer but it is far from being a strong conviction. I am puttering around, full of self-doubt, indecision and half-baked ideas. I am slowly growing to the idea that I am responsible for my own life and that my chart points to qualities and potentials that I still need to discover and develop, such as my creative skills, hence the writing, the blogging, the poetry.
Green chakra relates to love/self love – the ability to give and take unconditionally. When balanced we are able to give love and also to love and nurture ourselves. Green helps relax muscles, nerves, and thoughts; Cleanses and balances our energy, to give a feeling of renewal, peace and harmony. Green connects us to unconditional love and is used for balancing our whole being.
Yes I am good at taking care of others. I was very well trained in that department. I am a pro. Taking care of myself, not so much. I know how to protect myself, but nurture myself? I am not even yet a newbie in this regard. Sometimes, I think I haven’t even hatched myself out of this egg. Maybe there’s a tiny crack in the shell.
But I am honest and being an Aries I love a challenge, therefore I feel the obligation to complete the circle and muse on Indigo and Green, just to see what images, symbols and metaphors my mind can come up with. Then I can look at them and go “Hum, what does this mean?”
That’s when hell breaks loose. I get anxious and start distracting myself from the task at hand.
Let’s start cooking dinner – at 11:00 am in the morning?
I am hungry. Let’s check the refrigerator! Nothing appetizing inside. Even if I opened it a hundred times, no chocolate cake, ice cream, brownies, cupcakes, cookies and pies are going to jump out of it. This is no Willie Wonka appliance. It’s a healthy fridge, bubble water and soy milk included.
Let’s go to Facebook and see what my friends are doing – I can justify it – I am nurturing my social media relations – No, you are procrastinating.
How about Skype? Damn! Where are your friends when you need somebody to chat with?
The cat? No, asleep. No “inconvenient time” bugging for a lap, a nap and a snack.
Suddenly these lines pop up in my mind.
Verdigris, born of Father time and copper heart. Beating in diastole and systole syncopy of natural growth and life.
Indigo, Indie, India. Deep midnight sky of inward thoughts. Out of the blue eye of self piercing veil
Colors of Kundalini, God perfect, slithering on imperfect beings
Red, Blue, Orange, Purple, Indigo, Green, Yellow, pearls of color, strings of light, enclasped by Black and White whispers of agarbatti
Steps of wisdom, levels of love, ocean of connection
To beginning and end

This is when my writing coach, Beth tells me to reflect on this poem using metaphors and take a risk.
I would have to say if, for me writing is being used as a tool for healing, I would say poetry is a tool for developing my intuition. Most of the images from this poem popped up. I did not plan on them. Did not have a theme or a direction. I was just listening to some internal music with notes and melody that I had never heard before but sounded strangely familiar. I was intrigued by the contradiction between the familiarity and the newness of this song. How that could be? Had I heard it before and forgotten about it? Was I just imitating something done before? Why it felt so familiar and comfortable?
I had no answer for these questions. Then a thought surged through the myriad of interrogations marks circumventing these questions.
It was me!
This was my voice!
The voice I had so diligently been looking for since I started writing. The voice I thought I did not have. The voice I thought did not exist. The voice I thought did not speak.
Me.


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