Exercising My Muse

The fog is lifting.

For weeks... no, months... well, maybe years... I've been in a mental fog. Some days, even thinking is hard. And creative thinking is even harder. It's easy to chalk it off to age, a busy lifestyle, stress, not enough sleep, depression, or all of the above. I could blame it on whatever. But those whatevers aren't changing. Life continues, and I'm not about to give anything up. I happen to like the things that I do. (Well, ok, I would give up work if I could.)

There are some nights that even a cattle prod doesn't rouse my sleepy muse. I try to coax her out with tea and pretty music, but the fog is too thick to actually get any work done. And when I have a writing packet due in a matter of days, fog is bad! Fog stinks! Fog will bring me down. And my muse doesn't help. She clings to me and sinks with me.

But this weekend, I found something that my muse really likes: the iPod song. It's actually called Flathead by The Fratellis, but it got my muse up and walking. And running at times. And hopping around, and bopping to the music. (Thank God nobody was watching.)

I'm not opposed to exercise. I am in decent shape, for no good reason other than I take the stairs whenever I can. In fact, I love to ski, but that's season limited exercise (not to mention budget limited too). I love to ride my bike, but it has some sticky stuff on the handbars that I haven't been able to get off, and it still has the baby seat on the back. Since the baby already has a bike of her own , I probably should take it off. (When I have time...)

I like to walk. We live a block away from a beautiful river with lovely views and a gorgeous park attached. I love to walk with my hubby, with the little ones in tow in the wagon. But that tends to be a production, and I'm a weather wimp, so it doesn't happen as often as it should.

After sitting in front of the computer all weekend and not accomplishing much, I noticed my muse was getting a little flabby. (My muse, not me!) Then, we heard the iPod song, courtesy of my musically hip son, and then it was on the iPod, and next thing I knew we were on the treadmill. Me and my muse. Getting the blood pumping. Clearing the fog. Peeling off the flab.

My muse was good to me following our little pump-up session. In exchange for a gallon of sweat, she gave me lots of fresh images and mental energy. It was all good. At this rate, I'll be pretty buff by the end of the semester. Whatever it takes!

I just hope my muse doesn't want me to clean for her, too...

-PLB