Where Does Your Muse Live?
This isn’t where my muse lives, but it’s part of the inspiration.
There’s a place I see when I close my eyes. It’s at the end of a cobblestone alley, up a set of crumbling stairs built into the side of an old brick building, and then up even further via a rickety iron fire escape. The rooftop oasis at the top is hidden from public view by a chest-high masonry wall, but it looks out over the clay-tiled rooftops of an historic city. The peaks and spires make way for fog-shrouded hills in the distance and the scent on the air attests to the presence of an ocean nearby.
The space itself isn’t huge, but it’s big enough to hold a round cafe table with two chairs and, in the opposite corner, a cozy rattan seat, topped by several thick cushions. Cushions are a theme—colorful embroidered ones have been placed strategically for lounging amidst the dozens of plants and trees that fill the remainder of the patio. Fan palms spread their fronds from terra cotta pots. Shiny green vines hug the walls. A citrus tree sits atop a cobalt-tiled end table. The warm aromas of jasmine and orange blossom float on the sea breeze. Strangely, there’s a bookshelf against one wall, the wood of the shelves almost hidden by philodendron leaves. They creep over and around the familiar spines. All my favorites are there—Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own, Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast, Jane Eyre, The Great Gatsby, Banana Yoshimoto’s Kitchen, and Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity—along with childhood favorites and titles I’ve never seen before, but know I’ll love.
It wouldn’t be possible to keep such a trove of literature dry and protected in such a place, but it doesn’t have to be. This patio doesn’t actually exist. It’s an amalgamation of locations real and imagined that I stumbled on while doing a guided meditation. The alleyways of Seattle, the rooftops of Bruges, the smell of Los Angeles, and my own roof deck coalesced into the place where my muse lives. It’s the mental space I retreat to when I need to find myself.
Where does your muse live? You can find them by following the same guided meditation I used, available on YouTube. Or, if you prefer, you can journal your way there. Grab your favorite notebook and start with the first prompt. After a paragraph or two, add the others, one at a time, to guide and flesh out your vision.
I am sitting in a public place, watching the world around me. I see…
I begin to walk. As I do, I notice…
I reach my destination. It is…
It sounds like…
It smells like…
Here, I feel…
Care to share? Let me know in the comments where you found yourself!
