I graduated from San Francisco State University last Saturday. I needed to put a great big metaphoric exclamation point on the end of my university experience, so I walked with 2000 other graduates dressed head to toe in purple. I sat in the blazing sun listening to speech after boring speech on a jumbo-tron because the actual speaker was too far away from me to see. The stupid cap kept sliding off the back of my head and the "hood" all masters candidates wear continued to choke me, despite my heavy ring of keys I'd attached under my robes to hold it off my neck. The only one in my O and M class who decided to walk, I felt a little lonely surrounded by large groups of celebrating students from other departments. But at last I got to walk to the podium, get my bright purple envelope (they send the actual diploma in the Fall) and shake the hand of a University chancellor. For those sixty seconds, I was buoyant; I could have flown above the heads of every single person crammed into the stadium on the wings of my bright purple robes.
I finally feel done.
I've spent the week catching up on Medusa work, but mostly I've been sitting quietly thinking about the day I got my Masters Degree. Now and then that feeling of completion fills my body and I have to stop what I'm doing and look around at the world. Nothing has really changed... except me. I reached my goal. I am free.
There's nothing else to prove. No other challenges on the horizon. At least not today.
My muse is eager to put all that drive and energy into creativity again, but for now, I want to rest. I want to plant my garden and clean up my yard; read a book; watch old movies; dance; play princess dominoes with my daughter; cook; sit in the sun with a glass of wine; kiss my husband.
I want to live.
Don't worry, Muse. I've never been able to resist you for long. And besides, didn't I just write you a full length play last month? Give me a break for a few weeks. I promise, Medusa's Muse will prosper and thrive and my own writing will flourish. You'll see.