Hello Muse, Welcome Discipline
I read in more than one book that the Muse comes to say "hello" if you show her commitment. This is the first day of my new routine—I wrote it down, printed, and put it on the fridge. It’s January 1st, and while many people on the West Coast are still sleeping, I decided to start my journey into an unknown land—I am not familiar with Discipline, but I am willing to welcome her into my life and get to know her.
When I think about the Muse, my mind goes back to the beauty of the Renaissance. She is blonde with long hair and large hips—I see a woman similar to Venus in The Birth of Venus by Botticelli; probably my Italian origin is influencing this image. She has a long golden dress and a gentle smile. She doesn’t speak—once she feels her job is done, she disappears. Her silence is precious—her presence is enough to ignite my senses and light up my brain.
Today is the first time I meet Discipline. I see her as the total opposite of the Muse, in terms of appearance. She has black skin and red lips: she wears a dark blue suit and heels—she reminds me Octavia Spencer in Hidden Figures. When I think about discipline, my mind goes back to school. At that time, in Italy, there wasn’t much diversity, and I was surrounded by people with the same skin color—I want to cherish the diversity in America and Discipline is an opening to receiving new stimulus. She keeps her eyes on me; I can feel her gaze. She told me today she will show up every day at the same time and will leave at bedtime.
Discipline explained to me that she and the muse made an agreement and they will convene at the end of the year to discuss my progress. Discipline will stay with me every day, and the Muse will visit when she thinks it’s the right time. Wait, does the muse speak? Yes, she does, but not with me. The two women have been friends for a long time, but I didn’t know that—I thought they had nothing in common. When I said to Discipline: “I didn’t think you got along with the Muse,” she replied laughing: “That’s what many people believe, but our friendship was born a long time ago. We don’t meet often, but when we do, we have a blast!” “I have to be honest with you,” I told discipline. “I thought you were boring.” She stared at me with her big brown eyes and replied: “Maybe I can be a little annoying in the beginning, but I can change lives.”
Discipline seems cold and severe, but I also sense a hidden sweetness and will to nurture. I smile at her sometimes, but she doesn’t smile back. I think she wants me to commit a bit more before showing me her tender side—I get it. In everyday life, I hang out with people just if I feel a strong connection. I had to make an exception with Discipline. This choice is part of my commitment to growing up and changing skin. Do I think we can be friends? Sure, but it will take time. Last year, I spent some time with Patience, a sweet austere woman with white hair and a silk pantsuit—I learned a lot. We aren’t very close, but I respect her, and she visits me every once in a while.
Every time one of these entities visits, I stay open and receptive—I respect them and their time. I listen to their words or their silence. I learned how to listen and speak just when it’s necessary. Their presence makes me feel blessed, and I would never want to disappoint them—they are all spiritual mothers to me. When I sit down to write, I feel like a baby; I am hungry and eager to learn—they nurture me with spiritual food and knowledge.