In that pre-dawn hour, just after the early morning bathroom run and crawling back into bed, comes a time when Muse takes her dipper of brilliance and sprinkles profound and inspired thoughts through the near-slumbering mind. The mind pursues these wisps of creative wonder along pathways destined to come to naught. Sleep again overtakes thought, and morning finds only hints of earlier mental journeys.
Why do so many of us never learn from our frustration? Why can’t we allow ourselves to get out of bed and use that hour to write down all of those magnificent ideas and ponderings? It’s not as if we’re going to forget that we had them; we only forget what “they” were about.
This morning I had half an essay written in my head—a nice lyrical piece on this subject. When I woke, it was all gone, except for the initial idea for the piece. Frustration, directed at myself, ensued.
Dr. Wayne Dyer postulates that when a person wakes for unknown reasons early in the morning, it is due to higher powers speaking to the sleeper. Dr. Dyer never identifies the higher power but allows the individual to make a personal interpretation of the term. He goes on to say that the best and most inspired writing, painting, or whatever creative outlet the person uses, comes during that time just after the pre-dawn wake-up call.
I must agree with him, for that is when my mind is the most free from daily concerns, sees the world in the least cluttered way, and has the most fluid writing ability. I agree and would like to accommodate that axiom of taking that free-thought time for writing.
The problem is that sleep tempts me too well. There is always a dream to finish so that I have an ending to that particular storyline. Or, I didn’t get into bed until the wee hours of the night and haven’t had enough sleep to keep me awake to do more than make that bathroom run.
Sleep and its many guises will become an issue again after tonight. BJ and I are beginning the last leg of our tour just after dawn tomorrow. Neither of us sleeps well nor long while on the road. We’ve learned all about that already.
There will be many very early mornings in the coming month, some far earlier than we’d wish. My wish is that with all the new sights and adventures, inspiration will become more delegated to regular working hours and not to those frequently interrupted ones devoted to sleep. There are times when only a sigh and a do-over will suffice.
One question haunts me sometimes. I wonder how many Pulitzers, Nobel’s, Oscars, etc. have been left at Muse’s doorstep because the sleeper couldn’t be bothered to write down the words on the calling card?