Public Muse Battles Hypocrisy
Once again, I am ‘musing’ aloud:
Oh Hell!!! This isn’t a reflective journal, a “Write of a Lifetime,” no!
This, here, is an editor’s blog. Allow me to introduce myself: I am the founder and creator of the International Books Cafe, a virtual café of writers, artists, intellectuals and bloggers. Personally this is my formal Public Muse having tantrums because I won’t allow her (meaning ME) to S-T-R-E-T-C-H!!! So Stretch I tell her, STRETCH!!!
I’ve been a well-behaved young lady all my life. I try very hard not to write anything that might incite someone’s negativety. I try very hard to live without too much rebellion as I do not want my children or anyone else’s children to follow my example… I try very hard to appear quiet, reserved, and stoic, for the sake of the rest of the world . But there is only one thing wrong: I am dying of this illness called Hypocrisy!!
Therefore, I come out of the cave… but if I come out of my shell, my hidden cave of safety, my persona of protection, I am afraid I may blow every last one of my friends, family, neighbors, and countrymen and enemies alike, from here to kingdom come.
And then I stop and think: what makes me believe anyone is even interested in what I am or in what I say or do? REALLY! I’m so full of myself… How impervious of me.
But of whom ELSE can I be full? Here lies the “rub.” How can one create characters of various personalities, contentions, disorders, phenomena, and so forth, if one has not been able to experience much more than a very TIGHT circle of human elbow rubbing?
On the other hand, if one has such a creative, or more to the point, an intense imagination, one would most probably imagine what it is inside every person they have ever met.
So, it is within my curious nature (and imagination) that I rub elbows with a few new folks…in varied economic levels, multi-educational disciplines or cultural extremes, and/or no change at all, or maybe try to communicate with someone who cannot understand my language or I theirs, closed subcultural groups, and people in other distant locations….you get the point…
How will I do this you ask?
I’ve decided I may only have a good twenty to thirty years left to write, and I think it would be a good idea if I start by traveling around the United States, making use of my brain for more than the routine poetry of boredom and depression–that poetry I’ve written since I was a teen-aged girl taught afraid of anything and everyone, or stepping beyond my bedroom door (am I Emily Dickinson reincarnated?) and LEARN if “the truth is really out there” somewhere between voices and gestures, song and prayer.
While doing this I will be blogging my thoughts and also a theme for the week that will be about Writers, and I also have strctured a way for you to comment in return: through a public blog. Your blog can be a page length or a few sentences, but you can say what you want (with the exception of the WordPress rules of courtesy and non-billigerant, childish behavior) and we will have an open forum of minds to deliver change (or not) in the world.