Quote from Woody Allen.
“I am shy. I was always happy to be alone. I was always good at things that required solitude.”
A Divine Gift
Woody Allen had a muse for comedy even though he was really shy.
He confessed,
“I had no reason to be fearful and insecure, but I was.”
This is the story of many of the people on Steemit. Each of us has a certain muse whether we like it or not. There is an abstract artist @harj who is filled with fire for his art and the world. There is a poet singer songwriter @d-pend who is completely unpredictable. The words from his poem comes of the screen into the readers heart. He adds pictures and music that make the words dance and groove to a gentle beat. There is @naquoya who brought me back to my own childhood memories. There is @lonestarpoet whose poems stand alone. There is @sultnpapper sharing the truth of government shitdowns and telling it like it is. Another who tells it like it is @moderndayhippie is an amateur photographer chasing his dream. They each got the muse virus. As Socrates said to Phaedrus,
“There is also a madness that is a divine gift… the madness of those who are possessed by the muses.” (Plato Phaedrus)
Blog into the black hole.
As for me I am shy and reserved. Two months ago I got out of my shell and started to write my opinions of the world about philosophy and family and decentralization. It didn't bother me that I had only a few reads and an occasional comment like: "Upvote for upvote." I was happy to write even if it seemed that all my writings saved in the blockchain were kept in a black hole hidden by the world. I didn't mind if no one was actually reading but then one day I found @moderndayhippie was reading my blog and made a comment. Then I decided to paste a link in @thesteemengine discord promotion. Then next thing that happened was a stream of comments. In the past I didn't even know that Steemians could read but people were reading my post. I literally almost had a heart attack. The article was filled with more comments than I could answer.
Overcoming Postphobia
Up to this point I have posted faithfully everyday but now I got postphobia. I was afraid I could never made a post to match the last. I felt more than writer's block but writer's freeze. On Sunday I couldn't post anything and maybe it was for the better. I am usually shy and reserved. Even my attempts at writing about problems are indirect and spoken in metaphors or allegories through stories of my families. I usually don't speak directly but people were still catching the point. I found a great epiphany. And I wondered, "will the muses in me ever be satisfied?" This is what came out:
Music fills my ears
A child, an infant dances with delight.
No one knows the freedom, no one cares.
Tomorrow comes too soon and the madness is never subdued.
Constant twisting the pretzel of life is squeezed
into a flower that buds and blooms.
Today I see it. But as soon as I grasp it...
gone and forgotten.
Who would have known that the dream lives again?
The immortal Muses never cease their movement
diving in and out
inspiring and propelling to perfection.
Working through friends who inspire
taking us to an elevation beyond desire.
The child finds comfort. No more tears inside.
The child restores the dancing.
And doesn't concern about anything else beside.
Free without a care. Glory to the Creator!
Glory for the child is restored.
All pictures in this post are public domain found at pixabay.com
Where is the child in you?
Don't let the shitdown get you down.
Love,
365GROOVY
@mineopoly
