haiku

My Mistress is Called... (or, When Inspiration Fails You) by *nickels*

I was thinking about the nature of inspiration one day when the idea of a haiku series came to me. I thought about how powerful it is that so many of us wait for inspiration. We wait on her (I say her because all of the most powerful forces tend to be female. That, and English vocabulary lacks the fullness to describe the intangible quality of ephemeral forces.) So yes, I was fascinated by the fact that so many of us just sit and wait for inspiration to do begin the doing of things. I was also intrigued by the reality that so many of us not only want to be inspired but also want to inspire others. I mean we sometimes refuse to work, or find an excuse not to make because "I'm not inspired. I don't have inspiration!"

I get it. To be in the zone of inspiration. To have things just manifest out of you, in your head, or in your hands, wherever your creation tools are (pencil, hammer, whatever you use to make great works).

It's euphoric. It's orgasmic. It feels otherworldly.

When you're in it, really in the thick of it, everything else in the world disappears. Fuck time. Fuck obligations. Fuck manners. Inspiration has you and the moment feels like your levitating in a space between times.

But what about those times when you aren't in this magical realm? When she's not visited you? When it's a regular day, but you still are tasked with creating? You are still a vessel, are you not? You still have the urge to create, do you not?

I imagine that Inspiration waits for us who dote on her, she wants us to work for her (attention). Much like work begets work, work seduces a visitation from Inspiration. I imagine that she wants the craftsmen who desire her presence to be so skilled so they can speak on it! #GameRecognizeGameSis.

So, while we wait for her to bless us, and don't act like you won't, because you will---we all love to be inspired and we all love to inspire, I challenge you to keep working. So that when she comes, it's glorious.

Yes, I do realize the double entendre. Your point?)

***

My Mistress is Called


My mistress is called.
In faith, she calls me her muse.
But in truth, she's mine.

She's Inspiration.
Yes, Inspiration itself,
she is my mistress.

I call my mistress
my all-consuming ruler
Then I wait. Nothing.


Now, in her absence,
steadily I move, for she
rewards all efforts

Inspiration comes.
and she sits and laughs at me.
I am enchanted.


My hands, too slow and
ill-equipped to document
this visitation.

But still, I persist.
Inspiration, she's fleeting.
What to say? Do? Write?

Hurry before she...
Inspiration leaves. I'm left
hollowed out by her.


Capricious she is.
Time? Is lost doting on her.
Effort... she rewards.

In her absence, work.
Tis my discipline she loves.
Discipline draws her.

So, I work, I must
An opus will bring her near
She is my mistress



PHOTO CREDIT - Antonio Mora is a beast. Technique: Double exposure. More on his work here.

Definition of mistress:

1:  a woman who has power, authority, or ownership; a tutor who has achieved mastery in some field.

Definition of inspiration:

1:  a : divine influence, power, or action on a person, intellect, or emotions
2 :  the act of drawing in; specifically --- the drawing of air into the lungs

Jollof is Bae - Haiku #1 by *nickels*

Jollof Haiku #1

Birthdays and Weddings
Celebrations and Goodbyes
Jollof, you were there.

Home. Every culture has a handful of culinary delights that evoke the most palpable, romantic images of home. Home-cooking is sacred. The term is uttered with a smile that's capsulized the experience of warmth, comfort and safety. It's in this place where we consumed during our highest of highs, lowest of lows, and on on our most average of days. Just the hint of fried onions, plantain, or tomatoes and chilis takes me to those largely communal spaces filled with laughter and tears, but ultimately support. 

In college, I took an anthropology course on "Food & Culture." My final paper? A piece titled "Food & Sex." The research unearthed the similarities with how both are consumed, primally and to satisfy a need. No longer life imitating art imitating life. Rather, food begets sex begets food and so on. Fortunately, globalism allows us all to have a nuanced palette! ;)

To accompany life's momentous events and rites of passage, we now have an expansive menu of solid requirements. For Nigerians (and those in the diaspora), that will always be Jollof Rice. Diaspora be damned, if you're having an event, somber or celebratory, if there's no jollof, you will be shamed. Publicly and privately. Nigerians don't do "nice-eties. They ... educate, ruthlessly with the sliver of the tongue leaving a mark so painful, you shan't make the same mistake - the lack of jollof rice - twice. Whether it's at a wedding of a cousin, of an uncle, who's brother is getting married, or I'm in London and the cafe down the street has take-away jollof, I'm getting my culinary jollies on, okay?! So while this simple haiku does have... "intense bits" ultimately, it's an acknowledgement of the love I have for home and a "happy place." #JollofIsBae.