Here is a video of me reading this for my audio-visual audience :)
Okay WORD time!
MY MUSE by Nikki Giovanni
I am my own Muse
I delight me With my words Of both Wisdom And wit
I teach myself So much Such insight Into the human soul Such compassion For the weak and weary Such utter contempt For the self-satisfied
I think What a wonderful world It would be If only people Would listen To me
I look at the full moon And bay Come Come Come to me Let’s explore A new world
~~~
With that in mind, on to the musings…
It’s 2AM. I’m standing in front of a mirror, holding a cup of warm cinnamon tea to my lips and looking at myself dead in the eyes. I’m that wired kind of tired from a long week of work combined with plenty of play and heaps of heart.
It was only a month after being hospitalized for a severe and sudden health complication (when I had the most sobering but all-things-considered entry-level encounter with the Angel of Death), and already I was on the brink of burnout and bit confused. Underneath this confusion was a weighty feeling of underappreciation.
Beyond work, I was investing pounds of flesh– pounds I could not spare– into relationships that edged me in two ways: they pushed my boundaries of patience, generosity, and innovativeness on how to show up. And they also kept me on the edge of true satisfaction. This weighty feeling was only exacerbated by the fact that no parties involved were bad people, but simply unable at the time to show up for me in the way I was showing up for them. It happens. (Also, I see my role in the dynamic. Generally, and so compulsively that its almost a state of hypnosis, I give. I’m much more comfortable this way, but I’ve learned the hard lesson that this is unsustainable wayyyyyyy too many times for me to feel okay being called “smart”. I have my own blind spots, handicaps, and vestigial dodo bird DNA.) Some of these relationships were romantic, some were familial, and some were friends. And in all ways, something had to change, and I knew deep down (we always know) that it wasn’t going to be them.
So as I reflect at my reflection, I begin to sway. I rock myself gently, to whatever soul melody is playing so internally I cannot hear but only feel, and that voice in me that is ancient and patient and glorious says through me, “You turn yourself on, baby girl. You turn yourself on.”
~~~
Have you ever allowed yourself to own the fact that, deep down inside, under all that pain and chatter of self-criticism, you fucking love yourself?
~~~
Idk wtf is up, but so many people I know are going THROUGH it right now. People. I. Love. All on the spectrum of heart-ache to heart-break.
They are navigating some version of loss, transitioning out of a romance, a career, a friendship, a place. And all of them are “missing” that which they are losing. Understandably so.
~~~
“I miss you.”
I am missing you.
I am incomplete.
In your absence
Is an empty chest
Where a heart
Once beat.
~~~
Missing someone or something can genuinely feel like a fundamental part of you has left, and when you realize or re-realize it’s likely never to return, your empty chest cavity feels like it will cave in on itself. I’ve been there. I’ve been there I’vebeenthereI’vebeenthere.
Therein that metaphor enlies the truth: it’s a part of YOU that you are missing. More so than another person or profession or place, you mourn the part of yourself that came to life by way of this person or profession or place.
For example, one of my friends is going through a break-up with her ex who is an author, a type of man she hadn’t ever been with before. It was beautiful to see her light up, inspired, writing letters and crafting personal essays. She started reading voraciously and excitedly sharing her discoveries. Once the break-up became inevitable, her heart started to close off (naturally so). During her mourning, she lamented the loss of him, but from the outside, it was evident that she was also mourning this part of herself that this epistolary dynamic* brought to life. In other words, she feared that she wouldn’t ever be able to access that part of herself, that part that she had grown to love, that part of her that is the most fruitful and juicy inner sanctum where the Muse resides when she decides to bless you with illumination.
And newsflash from Nikki: this Muse is you.
~~~
Reflection
I sway
And smile
Touching the warmth of tea
to the warmth in me
In my mirror moment, I realized one of the reasons I stayed in these draining relationships was because every now and again, the subjects of my love activated me in such tremendous ways. Sure, there were so many aspects of these things I purely loved, but one of the main joys was the parts of me I got to meet. The poems I wrote, the performances I did, simply the way I interacted with the world…
I refuse to believe I require another individual to access that aliveness.
~~~
When we lose someone, we often mourn the parts of ourselves they brought to life. Yet those parts are not gone—in fact, they’re just getting started! Freshly born, they are ours to nurture. How can we help these parts not only survive but thrive? How can we, like Giovanni, look to the moon and, instead of feeling loss and lost and lonely, feel that excitement of self-discovery?
Worlds lie within you, ready to be illuminated. You do not need to wait for a match— you light yourself.
You turn YOURSELF on, baby.
What’s something you love about yourself? That you delight in? Let me know in the comments!
Rest in poetry Nikki Giovanni (June 7, 1943-December 9, 2024)
Poet, activist, and educator, Giovanni wrote words that sparked revolutions of thought and heart. Born in Knoxville, Tennessee, she became a voice of the Black Arts Movement and an unapologetic advocate for civil rights and self-expression. Her groundbreaking collections, like Black Feeling, Black Talk, and Cotton Candy on a Rainy Day, explored themes of race, love, and identity with unflinching honesty and lyrical beauty (I personally love her love poem collection Bicycles, where I found the poem above “My Muse”.) Giovanni’s legacy extends beyond poetry to her work as a professor and cultural icon, inspiring generations to embrace their truths. She leaves behind a profound impact—a life spent elevating the power of words to heal, challenge, and unite.
In other Muse…
Theme of last Emuse: Surrender to the Flow
~Just keep swimming~
~ me n Dory chillin~
Choosing tracks as I go... Featuring Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings, Chaka, Missy Elliot, and more. Tune in to find out where this is goes– I had no idea myself! Listen here.
Mark your cally’s:
Next FRIDAY 12/20 IS THE LAST EMUSE OF THE YEAR!!!!!!! Theme: Je REGRET
Yeah, Edith, you heard me! ALL THE SONGS I WISH I PLAYED. For example, I did a whole show on numbers and didn’t play Rollin Em 7’s by Pharrell?!?! A whole show on WRITING and I didn’t play Paperback Writer by the Beatles?! What was I thinking?! Sometimes, there is a second chance….
You do NOT want to miss this! Friday 12/20/24 9am-12pm. When the time comes, listen here.
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You’re amazing, Emma!!