Writing Fire

Current writing mood... 

Sometimes when I sit to write or paint, nothing comes and I'm left staring at a heap of dry bones. But then there are times when the Muse arrives and she flies past me in a rush, like a passing train, the force of her entrance pushing me back on my heels. I'm then left to chase after her; doing my best to keep her pace, sync my rhythm to hers and attune my ears and hands to what she's unearthing. In she sweeps, bringing words that sit in my heart, at the tips of my fingers and on my tongue, burning hot. She'll invite me to close my eyes and trust my hands as they move across the canvas, ignited by the burn of inspiration. The heat of her presence becomes comforting the more I yield to it, the more I allow it to burn away what no longer serves and what still needs refining. When she goes to depart the bones are no longer just a lifeless pile of brittleness in a heap at my feet. They are instead alive and dancing across my keyboard or across a page, brush or palette knife keeping the beat like a metronome. 

 

"Now I see fire,

Inside the mountain, 

I see fire, 

burning the trees, and 

I see fire, 

hollowing souls, 

I see fire, 

blood in the breeze...

and I hope that you'll remember me."

Ed Sheeran from The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug soundtrack