People Move Away and Time Flows On

People move away

I’m having coffee with a friend today. She will be moving to Arizona soon to enjoy her retirement in new surroundings. I don’t blame her; this is not a good town to retire in.

Coffee morning concept, coffee cup with small dish putting on old plank together with stack of notebook over forest outside as background.

We haven’t seen each other in the longest time because of COVID, but we’ve corresponded online in that somewhat indirect way allowed by Facebook. She participates in community band and runs marathons. I, on the other hand, write and self-publish, hoping to get some of my work traditionally published.

Our coffee date will no doubt be a way to catch up and, in a way, to get closure even with Facebook as a medium of exchange. She is embarking on an adventure.

Time flows on without me

I admit I’m jealous of my friend. I have been caught in gaffa (as in the Kate Bush song) for so long, with my writing, my adventures only in books. I used to ask God, “What am I called to do?” but got no tingling that told me what direction to go. I’m not getting too much excitement from writing these days. Nothing is calling me on a quest. No serendipity calls my name, and when I think it does, it falls flat.

I have spoken about this before. I don’t know if this anhedonia is something normal people feel, or if I’m just comparing this pale mood with the elations and depressions I felt before I was diagnosed with bipolar II.

But I’m looking for a quest, a re-energization within COVID, a pleasant surprise, a story to tell as I tell my friend goodbye.

Goodbyes in a college town

This afternoon I have to say goodbye to a friend. He’s going on to his new life after graduation, to Chile to help run the family business. He’s from China, and that was one of the topics we talked about, in our wider discussions on world politics and social customs.

I learned a lot about China from him, which I could relay to my husband, who is half Chinese and completely ignorant of his mother’s culture due to her insistence that they bring him and his siblings up “American”. He had to put up with my abrupt American manner, my tendency to use too much eye contact, and my occasional tendency to swear.

Living in a college town, you learn to say goodbye a lot. Students (mine and others) graduate and dispel to their new lives. Faculty take new positions, gravitating toward bigger opportunities at bigger colleges. Occasionally, faculty die. In a small college town, however, people may be transient but they’re not anonymous.

So I say goodbye again. It’s okay; it’s the natural order of things.

Once upon a time

My goal was 2000 words today. I’m already at 3000, and I might get more done today.

******

Thought on my mind:

Once upon a time, I had a muse.

What is a muse? In Greek mythology, they were the go-to goddesses of the Arts. There were seven, one for each of the Greek arts. In popular imagination, they are people who inspire artists, writers, and the like. Muses are usually women, but only because women do not take their birthright as artists to claim a muse. I am not like other women; I will have my muses.

Once upon a time, I had a muse.

Why did I want a muse?

There is a type of energy one can only get from a giddy affection for someone. It’s an affection that has no future, has no lust, has nothing but regard for the other person and — oh, the beauty! The beauty of that person!

It’s pure ludus, as the Greeks would term it — an infatuation that would only shatter were reality to intrude. It’s embarrassing, painful, and distilled into perfection when the person merely utters, “hi”.

When that person says “I’m following your progress”, then that person becomes a muse. That ludus energy gives a creative boost that’s like being high on the pictures behind your eyes.

Once upon a time, I had a muse.

Who is my muse?

I will never tell you. I will never tell him.

Once upon a time, I had a muse.

Notice that phrase is in past tense. My muse has gone. All I can do when a muse disappears is let him go, and hope he forgives me.