Museophilia as a Disorder

My most recent muse asked me to describe when it is that our relationship becomes a problem for me. She wanted to know what, to put it in my own terms, I am trying to avoid. I think the short answer is shame and frustration. I don’t want to get caught wanting a fix, and I know myself well enough not to know that I will want a fix.

The fix is that boost that puts me into the altered state of inspiration; and as I’ve previously described, inspiration is the beautification of existence. It is that state where the trash on the floor of a car might become a testament to freedom. God, as PDK expressed many times in his exegesis, enters the world through trash.

In a somewhat similar vein, Rumi said that gold was hidden in the places that people made a point of avoiding. He was talking about emotional states, particularly of grief and humiliation. Within these very caverns of despair, Rumi maintained, expressing the traditional view, lie not just riches, but the very standard of wealth. I imagine, though I am only lightly familiar with Jungian thought, that this same idea holds in terms of Jung’s view of the Shadow.

So, it’s not so much that I want to avoid these places, but that there’s a difference between a person who actually finds the gold and a person – let’s say the proverbial crazy old 49’er – who wastes away their life endlessly panning the river of their sorrows. Jimmy Buffet wrote a song about it, I think.

In short, I don’t want to get caught up in fruitlessly looking without for what I already have undiscovered within. And there are moments, in meditation and practice and creation, where I find it. Keeping it just requires the sort of discipline that getting it from the outside doesn’t necessarily require. The muse/drug seems to provide a shortcut.

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