Amusement parked . . .

Saturday morning. Sofa. Coffee.

I have lost my muse. Probably still stuck down in one of the side pockets of my carry-on, or maybe on the nightstand of the Multilux Hotel in Riga. But I don't really want to write.

It would be nice to have a couple of the traditional mythological muses, beautiful spirit creatures in flowing diaphanous robes, hovering around, coaxing me into creativity. I could be coaxed.

But if I have ever had those kinds of muses, they have done their work clandestinely.

My muses have taken two forms, neither having anything to do with diaphanous gowns. The first one is something that I wanted to say. The second is someone that I wanted to hear what I had to say.

I think those muses are still with me. They are just taking a little rest, a time to sort things out. So I shall take a little rest as well. Sort things out. I hope that soon I shall become amused or at least bemused, and something more meaningful will result.

A few years ago on a long road trip I happened upon a beautiful waterfall. What I expected to be just another creek turned out to be a rare find, a place of refreshment and beauty. I promised myself I would get back to that place. But I never did. Maybe that's what I should do today.

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