"A Muse’s Tale." : A Greenbo Jenkins Esq Tale

Reacting instinctively to the warmth of the sun, her wings unfurl languidly. His body shivered with the dawn cold. He stretched his massive frame blocking her view of the horizon. He shook his shaggy mane; dew droplets flew in all directions. She raised a wing to keep herself from getting wet and reached out towards him. He snorted, gazed happily over at her; then silently slipped his paw comfortably into her hand. She grinned back, both turned, sighed deeply and absorbed the rays of the rising sun.

Their existence is predetermined. They are the energy of human thought. No less real than the voices in our minds or the deities that we breathe life into. They reside in a beautiful place; forever changing, yet somehow solid; the imagination. Their host is a sensitive being and the inner life they will lead is as fantastical as only a muse or inspiration could hope for.

She's dainty, quick-witted, a multitasking expert and constantly darting hither and thither. Her wings seem invisible and flutter like those of a hummingbird; if you do somehow manage to catch a glimpse; you will witness delicate dragonfly structures vibrating with pure energy. Though naked, she knows no emotion like shame. Her honesty is undeniable. She is never anxious about future consequence; and thus is easily distracted by the promise of the present. She often gazes into the distance and sees the possibilities of Life; and laughing she rushes onward, upwards; always. Some have called Flight of Fancy reckless; but she is utterly an expression of unconditional love for Life. 

He's a plodder, a planner, smart, determined and immovable. His bear frame towers protectively over everything he loves. His warm fur keeps out the cold winds of criticism. His giant size allows him to forge through the snow drifts of procrastination. His snarling bared teeth -- never aimed towards his allies -- keep doubt, paranoia and judgement at a healthy distance. Some call Gritty Determination scary; but he's simply the drive required to overcome obstacles; and achieve goals in the short span of years allotted a mortal.

That first morning as they gazed into the fiery orb of their host's imagination; they unintentionally assumed their cooperation would mean a harmonious path for their host to travel. Grit hugged Flight tightly and as their energies fused he spoke with his gruff voice:

"Praise that we should meet. I shall be the protective strength for trying times; the courageous encouragement pushing you to continue; the finite muscle to your infinite spirit."

She nestled further into his fur and proclaimed to him in her fair voice:

"Praise indeed. I shall be the inspiration required to overcome hesitancy; wisdom disguised as recklessness; endless possibility anchored with kind intention."

They turned towards the fiery ball of the developing mind and were absorbed.

As is the continual cycle of human life; dawn became morning. The two friends forged on. They were now aware, their helpless host's name, was Kate. Their eagerness to help, knew no bounds. Flight, never one to be still, yearned to be mobile. She sparked in Kate a curiosity for her surroundings. Grit gathered himself, and steadying her; got her through her first scrapes bumps and falls. Thus, courageous Kate walked; much to everyone's excitement. 

It goes without saying, there are always others at play here. So many facets to the wonderful machinery of the mind... so many successes and failures, so many muses and inspirations; but this is not their story, and I will not waste your time with them. 

In no time whatsoever, Kate walked, climbed, explored and evolved. All the time guided by her unique fancy and willful determination. Her guardians stood in the background, speechless at her development. They patted themselves on their backs, quite convinced, their encouragement was the only reason behind this breakthrough. Kate babbled cheerfully at them, correcting their misinterpretations; but as is so often the case, the parent does not understand the child.

Mornings move towards Midday; as is the unavoidable consequence of linear time. Grit and Flight continued as always to aid and assist. Kate, as her parents repeatedly proclaimed; was now grown. Flight's powers grew, as did the dimensions of her vision. Kate's imagination widened correspondingly. Grit steeled himself as he started to understand the size and scope of possibilities that Flight had brought into existence; but as always he did not flinch, falter or doubt. Flight was certain with her friend's assistance, everything was possible. 

Kate read books: went to the movies; partook in social life; developed opinions and harvested knowledge. Flight inspired her to want to understand the sense behind this Life. Grit gave her the constitution to follow her goals. Library visits, book-worming, journaling, painting; Flight kept her running ragged; and Grit dutifully convinced her never to take a break. This was the unfortunate symbiosis driving Kate as her imagination's sun reached its apex.

One -- and by that I mean you -- should never forget this simple axiom: 

The inner and outer suns are most punishing at their midday height. 

(Neither Grit nor Flight had the foresight to seek shelter; or to pause.)

Kate is not a special case; the fundamental, aforementioned truth about her mortal existence, did not see fit to spare her. It was just her turn to experience the brow beating heat with which the sun of unflinching Life cooks us. She had her heart broken for the first time. Failure after failure seemed to dog her steps. Confusion descended on her like vultures; tearing at the flesh of her assumed victories. 

Flight and Grit stood at her side, aghast at the rapacious appetite of this process; but a muse is a plucky and stubborn inspiration. Grit enraged by what he considered injustices, raised up on his haunches, bellowed loudly and charged. His massive frame smashed opposition and his unstoppable momentum broke the ranks of self-inflicted oppression.

At this moment, Kate rolled up her sleeves, shambled over to her desk and sat down. She was unsure of her purpose, but she put pen to paper. 

Flight jetted back and forth, stitching neural pathways together in new and stimulating patterns. The impulses gathered, formed a quilt depicting scene after scene of the impossibly possible.

Simultaneously Kate started journaling; a pastime she hadn't indulged since junior high. The words gushed uncontrollably; stucturelepss ramblings of a hurt brain. Kate's adrenaline rose in panic at an inability to communicate; yet somehow certain that freedom from pain, would illuminate the next page... 

and then... 

         her... 

            mind... 

broke... 

Flight and Grit stopped in their tracks. Their very actions had undone the sun. They stood in silence, as Kate's confused and hurt consciousness, hurtled towards them; needing to annihilate them like a fiery planet-killing asteroid. They turned to one another, the muse equivalent of tears in their eyes; and nodding their respect and admiration for each other's purpose, they were extinguished.

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He awoke feeling nothing but pain and anguish. He was lost in the dark but there appeared to be a silvery shimmer framing the black surrounds. Scrambling to his haunches, he looked around, hoping Flight's wings, were the source of the magical shimmer; and at that moment he was dumbstruck. His eyes caught the sight of the floating silver rock in the heavens; the beauty, an inspiration and a goal. He gathered his wits, wistfully wishing to see his friend, with her blinding smile and lively energy. Flight was not there. Grit howled and padded restlessly around. 

"Why am I here? What is my purpose here without her?" he thought.

He heard the light lapping of waves on sand. His gaze fell on the immense lake stretching off into the darkness in-front of him. His thirst guided him to the water's edge, he lowered his snout and his big tongue broke the water's surface. 

As the water slid down his throat, images of Kate, burst into his mind. He saw the tears. The white coats. The small white plastic beakers with pills and water. He witnessed her crying and explaining to those who acted like guardians that she was not insane. He heard their words echoing in her memories; commanding her to focus. He noticed Kate's burning cheeks as those lab coats patronizingly read through her journals and writings. He understood her anger at their clinical glances towards her self-immolation and scars. He felt her frustration at their ignorance; and her righteous indignation at their inability to comprehend her world of experience. 

It pained him he had not been there to help. The guilt grew as he realized Kate's fighting flame, was slowly waning and on the edge of being snuffed out. He wailed at the moon as he relived her waking nightmare of being defeated. Her torment as the white coats looked smugly on; happy that she obediently swallowed her final prescribed medication. 

In his vision, this imaginary earth, quaked and violently erupted. The last of the muses ran panicked. That's when he sensed the Tsunami wave; forming on the horizon of this magical place. It rushed in, taller, higher, mightier than even the original asteroid that had wiped him and Flight out. The blue rolling death crashed down, drowning the land of her imagination. 

Grit bore witness to the aftermath, as that water formed a stifling lake. That place, under the waning heat of the passing burning orb, sluggishly became a stagnant pond. He shuddered to watch, as the basin festered with poisons. Strange ill-disposed beasts now inhabited this cursed pool. 

As the sun sank and the moon rose over those fetid waters; Grit detected the change effecting the world of Kate's imagination. He drank again and viewed future muses rising out of the deep. They were embryonic thoughts, wrapped in translucent waterlily leaves. The membranes unfurled on the shoreline; and out fluttered, padded, hopped or skipped, Kate's latest inspirations. Off they went to populate the landscape of this new undiscovered territory. He hoped he would see his friend again; but thus far, no such luck.

He walked away from the lake and sat down, sullen and discouraged. The experience was new; and Grit was most uncomfortable with his current strained state. He thought again to himself:

"Why am I here?"

A familiar voice; so faint that Grit was not sure it existed, whispered,

"She needs you."

"Flight? Flight, where are you? Why can I not see you?"

"Approach the shore... silly."

He padded to the still water observing the bright reflection. His sigh disturbed the still water surface; and as the ripples broke the moon's likeness he perceived his friend; clear as day.

"Flight?"

The mirage nodded and whispered,

"She will not allow me to materialize yet. She is afraid of them and how they react to me; but she needs you. If we are ever to be re-united you must fill her spirit with your strength and encourage her every day; even if it is just to put one step in front of the other. Or to pick her clothes up of the floor. Walk to the grocery store. Smile at a stranger. A myriad of tasks that require your indomitable fortitude."

Grit was not happy with Flight's words. They ruffled him the wrong way. Seeing his selfish annoyance, she beamed warmly at him. In some weird way that science and physics cannot explain; the water rippled with her smile, and her image filled the lake. It began to glow from below, with the majesty of the arctic lights. 

"Oh you silly bear, I am not gone, do not be sour. Kate needs us both, eventually; but for now you are tasked with getting her on her feet."

For the first time ever, Gritty Determination acted impulsively! He raised himself up to his full height; and reaching as high as he could, he plucked the moon from the heavens. He held it to his lips and whispered all his magic, wisdom and courage, into the soul stone. A silver light expanded from the core, and the monolith grew in size and weight. Grit's muscles strained. He changed his grip and now held the massive rock, like a proud Scot holds his caber. With one almighty roar, he tossed the Moon back up to the sky. It reached its apex; exploding with fireworks that blazed across the heavens; and where their trails stopped, stars formed. 

"I am spent Flight. Our brave Kate must go on. My spirit will light her way, she need not be fearful; but I will stay here; with you, forever."

He struggled to the waters edge; sat down heavily on his back haunches, and smiling at his friend, the starry sky and the moon's reflection; he turned into an indomitable granite statue...

"Welcome to "Inside the Writer's Studio." The cacophony of clapping hands and unbridled encouragement threatened to overwhelm her. She pinched the bridge of her nose and concentrated on her breath . Stars burst behind her eyelids, and for an inexplicable reason she felt at peace. She took another breath and focused on what the voice said next. 

"I'm your host Brent Carlson, and today I'm joined by famous author Kate Diamond. This talented local writer has awed many with her wonderful and very astute insights into mental health with her latest work; "Sunrise, Sunset at the Lake's Edge". It is an inspirational book on how to overcome a breakdown, escape the tyranny of institutionalization; and then harness your inner muses and turn all that energy to good."

Kate smiled nervously at the red light glowing on top of the camera aimed at her. 

Later that day as she drove through the mountains to get to her home; she was gripped by a desire to stop. She pulled over; as it was dark she left her hazard lights on and cautiously approached the edge of the road. Black treetops rose up from the shadows ahead of her; warning her about the depth of the crevice. She decided to stop, then leant against a boulder, found a comfy nook and took in all that nightly natural beauty. Way off in the distance she saw the lake, near the town where she grew up. The silver light rippled, as fish or fowl broke the water's surface; she teared up. She swatted at one tear on her cheek; and to this day she swears, that at that moment, she watched a bear at the lake's edge; sitting and looking directly at the moon's reflection in the water.