A.M. — That’s a wonderful question, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized there’s more to say about it than what’s reasonable to write in the comment section here. I’ll be working it up for a full post in the future, so please watch for it. For now, the short version is that I’m deliberately using the more generic modern idea of the inspiring spirit that simply refers to it as “the muse” instead of dividing and enumerating it into the nine muses (or actually there were different numbers named by different writers in different periods) of classical Greek thought. As for the distinction between the muse and the daimon/daemon/genius, I’m deliberately fusing all of them into a single master concept, but if I had to call them out and identify their functions, I’d identify the muse as the source of the content that arrives to fill us during inspiration, and the daimon or demon as the thing that goads us to want to do something with it and take it in some particular direction. Further — and here I’m just riffing on what seems organically appropriate to me — I would consider the genius, perhaps, to be the master spirit that stands above the two and unites them in a common purpose.

As I said, I’ll write something in the future, a kind of taxonomy of the creative unconscious as I’m using it here, to say more about this.

neighbor — Many thanks for the continued support. And thanks you for the Hillman quote. The man’s writings have affected me deeply.

That’s a great exposition on your conscious use of “demon,” and recognition of the the assorted ways the term has been used. I have to admit, I’m coming around to it, even with that spelling

I’m reading Hillman’s “Healing Fiction” (was that recommended by you? I don’t recall who steered me there, but I’m glad for it, it’s yummy!) and in the second chapter, “The Pandaemonium of Images” he says, “But the dogmatic crystallization of our religious culture demonized the daimons. As a fundamental component of polytheistic paganism, they had to be negated and denied by Christian theology which projected its repressions upon the daimons, calling them the forces of denial and negation. Thus Jung’s move which turned directly to the images and figures of the middle realm was a heretical, demonic move. His move into the imagination, which had been forced upon him by his fantasies and emotions, had already been prejudged in our religious language as demonic and in our clinical language as multiple personality or as schizophrenia. Yet, this radical activation of imagination was Jung’s method to Know Thyself.”

So I’m in agreement that it’s necessary to dig back through the layers of meaning ascribed to the term – back to the archetypal truths the demon muse expresses – and time to be aware of that which was appended later, with adverse effects.

Thanks for your continued work here!

This may sound like a silly distinction, but there’s a difference between talking about the (or a) demon and talking about the demonic. “Demon,” as a matter of historical and linguistic/connotational fact, can refer either to a purely evil spirit or to the type of thing we’re investigating here at Demon Muse. The latter use, while somewhat less common in regular cultural discourse, is definitely there. John Updike, in talking about his authorial drive, talked about his demon. Ray Bradbury talks about his demon, muse, or demon muse. Many of the Romantics talked about the demon that drove them. Examples could be multiplied at length, reaching far back into history. When used this way, the word carries both of the connotations that I want to emphasize at this blog: that of a muse-like inspirer or driver of creativity, and that of a mysterious something-or-other within the soul that always carries a whiff of darkness, but that isn’t purely demonic or devilish, but is somewhat ambiguous, largely because of its inherent combination of elusiveness, mysteriousness, and psychological or spiritual intimacy to us. This is a vein of positively frightening, electrifying, and exhilarating power for mining in creative work, and also in thinking about creative work like I’m doing here. In explaining it this way, I think I’m talking about exactly what Lorca was getting at when he passionately exalted the Spanish concept of the duende (which I haven’t written about here at Demon Muse yet, but which I plan to bring up in the future). The inherent earthy darkness and semi-sinister, semi-divine nature of that spirit from earth that empowers dancers and artists is what I’m chasing after.

Relatedly but distinctly, there’s also the fact that the demon is just the counterpart to the angel, as explained in my post here about the history of the daimon and the genius. Our modern-day idea of both figures becomes blurred the farther one looks back into history, especially back to the early Christian and, before that, Hellenistic periods. The demon and the angel merge into the genius and the daemon/daimon, which thus carries and embodies the same heady combination of divine guidance and dark or sinister-feeling mystery that inheres in the duende.

So by using the fusion of “demon” with “muse” as my overarching rubric and title, I’m deliberately courting, or at least opening the whole thing up to, the various possible reactions of confusion, suspicion, and fascination that have always accompanied such things, because, as I said, there’s real power there. The ambiguity embodied in such a formulation is precisely analogous to the inherent ambiguity involved in your, my, and everybody’s ongoing, present-moment experience of the interplay between the conscious and unconscious minds, our ego and daimon, self and genius. Foregrounding it, while it may well drive some people away, is true to the idea of the whole thing, and will also, I hope and suspect, attract as many people as it repels.

I hope you don’t drop Copyblogger altogether, which, as you well know, is one of the worthier places to spend a block of cybertime.

I’d be interested to know, in light of this post’s differentiation between daimon (or daemon) and demon, by using spelling as a differentiator between positive/creative and negative/destructive tendencies and forces, why you’ve named your site Demon Muse. I wonder if, with the usual conception of demon being such a negative one, references to demons wouldn’t be really offputting to many.

The concept (and name) of Muse seems to be considered familiar and benign enough that some can utilize it in spite of the sense that it’s kind of quirky to refer in conversation to , “My Muse….” but I don’t think the same can be said of Demon – no matter how creative the spelling nor how old the pedigree.

Personally, I’m not involved in a monotheistic, and hence, dualistic, religious tradition – several of which are known for disliking the shadow side of any equation – and yet I doubt that at any time soon I’ll be thinking of my subconscious creative spring as being anywhere near demonic. It’s too laden with creepiness and mal-intent.

Perhaps that’s just me – I don’t do horror – but my sense is that there’s a huge prejudice against the term that may not be altogether unfounded. Demons and djinns and evil spirits abound in myth and story, and warnings to avoid their attention exist for probably good reason.

Though it’s obvious what you mean, as one reads your posts, how do you plan to deal with this dichotomy, and why have you chosen the word Demon over other old or new options?