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Artists create thanks to muses. Muses come in many forms. There are no works by the human race that are without the backing of the inspiration of muses. Every painting, sculpture, song, play, poem, book, or movie has a muse at its root. The inspiration must occur for the work to begin. Along the path of creation the muse or muses responsible might ramp up efforts, or even be joined by others in a chorus of enlightenment.

What constitutes a muse? A muse can be anything in the world, a river, or an ocean, a valley, or a mountain, a town, or a city, a state, or a country. It can be all the stars in the heavens as well as a single grain of sand on any beach in the world, or in the middle of any desert for that matter. A muse can be inanimate, or alive. A muse can be any whole thing, or only the smallest part of it. Muses can be opaque, or transparent. They can also be silent, or loud. Yes, even you and I can be a muse. We can be ‘that’ to anyone in the world, or even just to ourselves. God, is one too.

Without muses art might not exist. Minds without inspiration move no hands to create art. I sometimes wonder what the first muse was for the first human who created the first work of art. Surely lost to time, the work has most probably long since turned to dust. What might it have been? Maybe it was a stack of twigs, or bones. It might have been a pile of rocks or finger tracings in sand, dirt, or mud. It could also have been the first repeated uttering between acquaintances, long before language existed. I wonder if it was a collection of repeated facial contortions. Maybe it was the very first burst of laughter, inspired by another human maybe. What inspired that human to perform the act that produced the laughter? What muse indeed?

Modern humans have molded their environment into a sea of information that bombards the senses without relent. Every second of our time is bursting with input for our senses. Even as we sleep a deep part of our brains awaits the alarm clock or the first rays of the sun, or even the first birdsong before sunrise. We wait on many things during sleep, even the smells of breakfast.

Once roused from dreamland, if we were lucky last night, we make our way thru the day and take in an overabundance of mental stimuli. If chance smiles this day we might become creative at any given moment. Something might get in thru our senses and spark a creative fire. Whatever the culprit is it might even jar a memory from some other point in time or even from a dream we had last night. Either way the true artist will take the flame and light the way for something new to reach the light of day.

The true beauty of being creative is that even a ‘non-artist’ can be inspired to create great things. Praise for creativity is equally at home lavished upon professionals or armatures. I reserve a great amount for savants as well. Whether the human is aware of what it’s doing or not the audience will get something to experience.