Yours, The Muse

“In my time, I have gone through many names. Through these names came lives. Some were small and significant in ways that only humanity’s historians could decipher. I have walked through lively towns, bustling with life, that have since crumbled to dust and I have had invigorating conversations with men who have since met the same fate. I remember everything, but in the great swirl of it all, most of these moments end up compiled into snapshots in my mind. In the great, swirling vortex of my knowledge, it's hard to place a given life at the forefront of my mind’s eye. For myself, I see no great enlightened path, I simply am. I exist, and that is enough for me. My existence is strange, even to me. I alter from moment to moment. I drift between points, I am an idea more than I am a figure. I consider myself lucky. Ideas seem much stronger than anything physical. The 'Spirit' is a funny concept that mortals have invented, and though it comes strangely close to how I operate, the concept of an 'Idea' lands much closer. I have not allowed myself to lose my confines for eons. Humans tend to act fickle about disembodiment and I would hate to give them a fright. Eventually, I’m sure they’ll come to understand what I am and how I manage to help them here and there throughout their existence. In my experience, Life eventually recognizes Life. Recently it seems they are too busy toiling and grappling with their own minds to make any great intellectual advancement. These stand-stills are typical and seemingly always come before an explosive breakthrough in their biology. 

 I can’t necessarily reminisce, since I know everything at every moment, however, there are certain fragments of my knowledge that I look on in favorable light. The same way that museum curators often place their personal favorite pieces in the most fashionable spots within the walls of their domain. All this to say, as I seem to have some time with You, I thought I would take the moment to regale You with a few of my brighter moments, while the light is still doing them justice. The grand, sliding scale of time and space doesn’t allow this account to fall on the ears of just anyone. After all the time that has been spent writing, drawing, and speaking for me— I figure it would be humbling to give back. It’s not that I need to be humbled per se, though I believe that there is some good in relating to the culture of those I live amongst. You understand, yes?

I guess I should start around the beginning of my time on Earth, given that time period remains the freshest in my mind. I consider humans as the most interesting organisms I’ve influenced. They insist on never being content. Their arguing and general disagreements are ceaseless, even among those that would call each other friends. It’s astounding honestly, but I hope that I never live to see it change. It makes their version of life exciting and unique. They strive for each of their days to be unique. Even if it’s just walking differently, stepping twice with the left and then once with the right. Something, something, something. Most forms of Life are perfectly content with living the same moments over and over. Not Humans, oh no, never Humans. I hope I don’t sound bitter. I promise I’m not. It is just that there is so much to each individual. So much so that each of them earns their own story. It’s hard to keep them all in order, they bounce around in my head. Of course, I know the accurate timeline. Knowing and remembering are two entirely separate things. You can know that You must capitalize the first letter of every sentence. Remembering the classroom where You learned the foundations of English, and what You had for lunch that day? That’s different. I know that I arrived on a beach and saw a man. I really have to dig around to remember. For You, I suppose all this digging is worth it. So that’s how it will be for a few moments then, I’ll excavate as long as You can bare with me.

I arrived on this particular floating rock around two thousand years ago. Maybe it’s more than that. Honestly, I’m terrible with time. I know the particular date that I arrived here yet it’s such a hassle to convert through all the different timetables and such. I suppose saying 3.4 Gaggorons wouldn’t mean much to You either. Don’t sit over there looking all smug. Anyway, I arrived around two thousand years ago, and it was quite different than anything else I’ve experienced. Normally when I arrived at a new place, all of the citizens came and tried to look at me. There was no such fanfare when arriving on Earth. Nobody noticed me, too busy with whatever task they were dealing with, though it would ultimately be unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Well, all except for one. That’s typically how it was back then. I would go to a new place and be entirely ignored, almost. That was how it was, and I quite liked it. It was less pressure to perform. 

I suddenly was standing on the beach. I had a long and lanky figure, I could feel the length of my hair against my back. A breeze drifted through the air and the light cloth of my shirt drifted on my skin. I could smell the salt in the air. All of these things were things I knew about. I had never experienced them. It was invigorating. I wanted to run, to feel my bare feet against the grainy mass of sand. Then I saw Him. Suddenly, I knew that I had the impulse to travel to this strange, new world. He looked at me, and I looked into Him. I saw everything that He could be. I knew what He needed. I walked toward Him, excited to meet yet another person.

 I grew quite attached to this man too. We spent lots of time speaking on topics that were important to Him. Apparently others of his time had interests that were wildly different from his. He was an outsider. While everyone else was focused on war, He thought of what love meant. He asked me about the stars and my travels. I fed Him half-truths that I swear he could see right through. I knew that one man couldn’t be expected to process all of the information that is stored within me. Of course, he didn’t think that way. Eventually, he got to work on the things that were important to Him. This is my gift and my curse. I fall in love with someone’s ideas, the way their mind works. In return, they finally can understand the intricacies of their minds. They’re finally capable of ripping past the thing that was holding them up. Or in His case, the reason he would go to the beach every day and stare out at the waves rippling up against the sand. He searched for answers there, and in a roundabout way, he found them through the form of me.

For a period of time, I would become the only person in their life. This man was my perfect companion.  We were inseparable. Then, as soon as it started, it was gone. I know that this will happen. It is my gift. Yet every single time, it hurts. It hurts more than the last time, losing someone like that. I’m sure You’ve experienced something similar to this. You have experienced more than most. Like Your people say, ‘You never forget your first.’ I find that this is perfectly put. He was my first on this planet, and certainly not my last. From that point, it gets hard to remember. It’s a blur really, memories move differently than knowledge. Sure I could tell You names, places, and dates. That’s not a story, and it’s not human. 

Speaking of stories, I believe that man went on to write some really important stories. The kind of stories that start movements and eras. I try to distance myself from the art of my artists. When I see the remnants of my past sitting on display in Book Store Emporiums, it’s like hearing a favorite song that I had forgotten about through an old radio.  Still just as beautiful as the first time I heard it, but not quite. I can’t feel the heartbeat of the song as I used to be able to, I can’t breathe my life into it. In my case, I’m not even breathing the same as I did when I first heard it. I’m a different figure, I’m embodying someone entirely different. I’m not capable of bringing the same passion to it. Those that I visit may only receive my gift once, and I try to keep my presence moving. I’m an idea, constantly in motion. 

I guess if You were looking through a photo album of my memories, the next that would likely come up would be an image of a woman. Don’t look at me like that. I know I’m not being descriptive. It’s intentional. My words will paint the details. You know, You’re very bitter. Here I am pouring my memories out and You’re busy judging my introductions. It’s hurtful, really. Well, of course, I’m joking. There is truth in my jests. Sit still. The details will come. 

I’m not sure exactly how long it’s been since I saw Her, You must forgive me. She was beautiful. Not in the sense that everyone thought it, but in the sense of true beauty. Beauty throughout. She was capable of speaking in ways that I wouldn’t dare replicate. She was a poet, which was a rebellious thing to be. I suppose I’ve helped lots of poets throughout my life. She was the one who embodied its essence so perfectly. She was a poet. The same way that I am here. There was no need to announce it, though She did for clarity. I spent more time with Her than was probably necessary. I break my own rules sometimes. Perhaps it’s a lack of discipline, perhaps I’m getting old. I helped Her to understand the human condition. Ironic, I know. I had spent lots of time with them at that point, so I was speaking from a place of memory. I wasn’t fresh like I was with the Man from The Beach. She helped me to understand poetry. I mean, really understand it. I was almost moved to write it. Before Her, it was just something that people did. I would inspire them to write it, they would write, and the world benefited. Through Her words though, something else happened. I felt that I could see. I know that might sound counterintuitive.

 I know what You’re thinking, ‘Well… you read the words with your eyes, didn’t you?’ Well, yes. In my mind, I saw something else. That doesn’t happen. In my mind, things are. Things are not constructed. Her words were capable of constructing castles and monuments. She built up the concept of love within my mind. She gave me ideas. She gave me so much. I felt as if I hadn’t given Her enough when our time was up. Before that Woman, I simply was. That was enough for me before Her. After, I needed to know why, when, and what. I wanted answers, I craved them. Even though I knew everything, I felt that I knew nothing of myself. I didn’t understand why I went places and found these particular people. I couldn’t even remember who my true first was, or how he acted. I knew that he was from a planet far from Earth. I knew that It was over a hundred thousand years ago. I knew that he was only a boy when I spent time with Him. I knew that my job was difficult because everyone else on that planet saw me for what I was. I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t remember how I felt when I looked into his eyes. That hurt. I didn’t blame the Woman for the sudden pain that I felt. I knew that I needed answers. Since then, the people that I have spent time with have given me answers. They let me see into their human mind, and understand their emotions. I, of course, still can’t understand mine. I know I’ll understand. Even if it takes a thousand more years, I’ll find a way to understand myself. 

Enough about me. I’ve managed to excavate two of my memories. You did an adequate job of bearing with me. I know, I know. I’m not a great storyteller, You’re right. I had to speak of these things with You. Because I know You’re hurting, I can understand it. I see it within You. Don’t get defensive, I know. There’s nothing wrong with Your hurt. I need You to understand that I’ve walked this Earth for thousands of years. Thousands, yes. There has never been anyone like You. There never will be anyone like You. I’ve spent generations with humanity and I know these things. It’s my gift. Now I’ve come to You, and we will talk. You can ask me questions, and I’ll give You answers. Though I can’t promise all of my answers will be the full truth. We can talk about Your ideas and Your passions. Soon You will see a fragment inside Yourself. A fragment of something beautiful. This is my gift. I’m capable of revealing to You just a small piece of the potential that I can see. All we have to do is talk. When we are done talking, You will create something beautiful. The world will change, not because of what’s inside me, but because of what’s inside of You. “