A Visit by the Muse in a Dark Restaurant

Today, the ideas came at lunch.

I sat at a dark restaurant in Iquitos with overcrowded tables, a surprisingly good lunch special, and wires outlining the art on the wall. The ideas came crashing up on the shore, one after another. I sat there and received them. As many have discussed, my brain and hands were a temporary vehicle for new ideas to enter the world. Borrowing me to be born.

I could hardly eat as I emailed myself idea after idea after idea. The creative commentary, me looking at life, me looking at me, me looking at it all, not me, with a creative newness directing my lunch in a very uninspired place. My hands kept moving, writing.

“It´s strange to be here, the mystery never leaves you alone,” wrote the Irish poet John O´Donahue. Here I was, a human inhabiting this planet, grumpily tired, and eating alone. And there was the muse. Keeping me from eating my lunch.