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Well, usually sitting in a chair outside in the fresh air watching the birds, which are the muses for my writing. These spirits squall, sing, dash about, rest in a tree, or quietly sit on a nest, maybe even watch me watching them. They could be shape-shifters, waiting.
I'm taken into their InBetween, my reality mixes with their's when I find am flying, relaxed, cheerful, I'm ready.
So, in this feeling of the InBetween realms, gliding, swinging, sliding, singing, I head for my computer, turn it on, find the right blog or story/chapter on Scrivener and start writing.
If I need refreshing, I sat outside again. In the winter, I walk in the rain around my yard and wonder where the birds are. Usually, one or two appear. If there is a storm, I watch from my window, soon one flies by and looks at me, as if saying, "Write!"
My muses are always outside in their realm, cheering.
OOPS, well, there are the predators, the CROWS, who come in to eat and destroy the home of the JAYS, who eat and kill the smaller birds. Then the squirrels do their damage to my miniature MUSES. And, hovering overhead can be an owl or hawk. I do hear this disturbance and horror. I am amazed the smaller birds survive.
One smallest of a wee bird pecks on my window, I'm not sure what this symbolizes. The pecking happens when I'm busily typing. A camellia grows close to the window. The wee bird hops from branch to branch, pecking as the bird does on the flowers staying elusive from my camera.