How many can tell you what a muse is - where the word comes from - without looking it up? The muses are rarely, if ever, called upon in literature, as they used to be. Their origins and name have dwindled into nothing more than a word, and the act of "musing" over something.
There were nine, in Greek mythology - daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory. These nine muses gave inspiration of the arts to humankind, and so they were often called upon by writers to aid them in the telling of tales. Chaucer, author of The Canterbury Tales, was well-known for him "call to the muses," and considering the popularity and brilliance of his work, one can assume he felt they aided him aptly.
A muse, then, is what? One who gives inspiration to others. As such, I call myself a muse, even as it stands as a double-entendre, for I muse on these thoughts that, as a muse, I hope to inspire you with.
Wandering
I could easily offer an all-too-common quote about wandering, but I would be forced to smack myself for such a cliche. I feel, rather, it is more pertinent to ask - what does it mean to wander? Or, better yet, what is it to be a wanderer?
A wanderer is one who wanders, naturally, but why? One who has a mission, a reason, intention, generally walks with purpose, so is one who wanders one who has no purpose, or do they seek it? But still, to seek is a purpose, and a wander is a meandering walk, a journey without destination - or perhaps a known destination.
Who am I, to wander? No one special. I am neither queen nor lady fair. I am by no means a genius and far from a god. I am but a human, in this life, in this world, but my mind is not so trapped, and it wanders, unlimited by all things but my own imagination, and I cannot fathom or name the limitations that carries, if indeed there are any.
As a wanderer, who am I? I am a sister, a daughter, a friend. I am a student, of a university, and of life. I am a writer, a philosopher, a theorist, and, at points, a madman, when my mind wanders too far and I lose myself in whims and fancies. I wander without purpose, seeking my purpose, my purpose to wander - and in this contradiction, I exist, dwell, and, yes, wander.
The
The. This sentence bears no meaning. It contains no subject, no verb, no description. There is a word here, but what this word exists as nothing of importance. It is not a thing, but the call to a thing. It is a prerequisite to the thing, but cannot exist without the thing, for the thing is it's purpose, and the thing acts, and so The begins a tale.
But we know this. We read, we speak, we know the barest tint of grammar, if not the technical jargon of it, then the execution of it from our speech, from books, from our own experience communicating. I cannot tell someone a tale by saying "The" and leaving it at that. Nor can I introduce myself in the same manner. I am not "The," and yet - I am.
The. The holds many things, as the beginning of all manner of subjects. Pounce the World is The Cat who holds my heart in two golden eyes and an endearing purr. The University is where I attend classes. The World is the great mass upon which I and you live. The Wandering Muse is who I am.
And yet, it is not. I am, after all, not only The Wandering Muse. You may know me by this name, but some of you know me also as Umbrae Calamitas, or Case, or daughter, or friend.
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This post has been an attempt to introduce myself to you, to greet you as one meeting someone for the first time should greet another, and to explain the purpose of this blog. For some of you, the previous ramblings of a wandering muse may have done such the trick. For others, you may be demanding a straight answer, a blunt reply to your demand that I explain myself now. I'm not sure I could ever offer you the latter.
I am not a creature of blunt words or sure decisions. I am a creature of the mind. You may take this many ways, and yes, it is intended to allow many translations.
I spend the majority of my time trapped within my own mind, and I believe that trapped is the appropriate word. I am here both of my own accord and by the graces of whatever creator you believe crafted each of us in turn. And while trapped may be the appropriate term, I enjoy the copious amount of time spent here, contemplating the various wonderings of a creature who seeks the answers to everything, but is often not satisfied with those that she gets.
And so that is what you will find here. My thoughts meander through every topic possible, and surely we will touch the edges of a depth that will make men cry, and brush the height at which laughter is as copious as it is nearly impossible. There is no set amount of times I shall post a month, for my thoughts come as they will, wander where they will, and will sweep my from my feet as surely as I hope to sweep you from yours, and carry you with me over the falls of a new perspective.
So wander with me, through time and thought - life and insanity. If, our journey complete, you wish to return, do so. But still, you are welcome to continue on, hand-in-hand, heart-in-heart, mind-in-mind with me, and become another Wandering Muse.
W.M.
Live long. Live well. Write. Read. Dream.
And wander on.
