Gone Muse

Please list the ways in which motivation and the journey are two different things.

To a person who lacks purpose and direction (motivation); the two appear to be the same.

So they are connected by appearance? Not only connected, bit are identical.

They are different, yet they are the same. In fact they are not merely connected, but are identical by appearance. That is what you are implying, and you did allow to imply anything at all.

To repeat. Motivation is different from the journey, but insofar as their appearance is concerned, they are at least similar to identical. So persons who cannot see the difference between them, they are identical, but somehow other then by seeing the difference, there is a connection between them, but they simply cannot understand it. Right?

But, help those who cannot see the difference: How are they to understand, in which way they are different? To rephrase: whether the direction of their journey is not the same as their existential dilemma, without which, they could not sustain their direction? Their motivation, their muse?

Wouldn’t they need to consider the wearpther as well, whether their direction can at all be kept, in spite of it? What is use of a direction, if the journey is doomed from the start? Will koans work, without seeing that, and not only understanding it? For the sake of passengers?

I am driving in a car; the destination is the goal, the scenery/experience is the journey, the car is me, the fuel is the motivation (energy) and the direction I travel is the steering wheel (naturally they all function together but are individual parts).

Meaning if you are driving around without a destination, then the driving is the same as if you were just standing still? It is a meaningless, experience, although the driving in itself is some how the purpose of the drive?

Maybe, its even a kind of rote behavior, getting into the car and going for a drive, almost not being aware why ?

One liner, i am stretching it, to point out, that motives and purposes cannot be conveyed meaningfully, by the reduced logical notion of the simplest argument. All possible entailments have to be posited, first, inclusively. The muse can do this, but only through specific individual receptors , filtering the largest field of symbolic significance The muse is a tremendous hidden social symbol, in search for particular instances of expression.

You are right, the artist or writer, can not interpret the difference, he does not know where the muse is coming from,he
only feels it’s presence, and when not, he is experiencing a block,a writer’s block

Buit this awareness is purely sensual, and the moment he understands the ‘why’, the muse leaves him.

That is why some great artists dread to be psychoanalyzed, they fear loosing their muse, their motivation , once the reason for it is found. They rather stay in the primal element of naive realism, so as to have the greater questions surrounding it try to crash through, in more elaborate symbolic embellishments.

Here is a wonderful explanation by some artists (the search for inspirado by Tenacious D that goes for 10 minutes)

youtu.be/Aa8CbWTIVT0

Carrying an onerous load
Over a long and lonesome road,
I look back to you and I tried
To find you; but you died
And left me alone and sad,
Recalling those days that we had
When you were my mentor, my goal
Of soul united with soul.
So now I am singing the blues
Without a place for my muse.

Few persons in my life meant so much to me as did my mentor. Teacher and friend, she was like a surrogate mother to me. I knew her for forty years and wrote poetry mainly for her to read. She died in 2005 at 97 years of age. I wish I could write the elegy she deserves; but my muse seems to have gone with her passing.

Can you have the heart to let her rest in peace?

She rests in peace. I’m the one who still has the need for her wisdom and patronage.

What if she is watching you, would she be happy and peaceful?

She’s in a place where happiness and peace go with the territory. If she’s watching me, she might be disappointed, she might not. Every type of expression has its time.

Would you enjoy disappointing her?

No, which is the why of this thread.

What do you think would please her?

She is dead and cannot hear
the songs I sang for that loved ear.

It might please her if I could create
Something better than my current state
Of impotence and senile boredom,
Which is just another whoredom
Of a filled and bloated slate
That cries, “Too late! Too late!”

God grant me her serenity
In what must be, must be.

I think it was something other than poetry that pleased her.

No, it was the poetry. She saw me publish as a youth and had hopes I would continue to write. Well, 500 poems later, I seem to find nothing left to do but revise.
But, that’s probably no big matter. Wells run dry.

No, Ierrellus, poetry was just a medium (ye olde finger/moon) and I can say this without even knowing her as it is human nature.