NOTE: It’s tempting to begin with an exclamation like “And we’re back!” For the past several months, Demon Muse has been on hiatus as I’ve done some necessary clarifying and recharging in communion with my creative source. If you’re a long-time reader, I thank you sincerely for your patience, and for the expressions of ongoing interest that some of you have sent me. If you’re new to Demon Muse, then I hope you’ll enjoy and profit from this ongoing exploration of the theory and practice of inspired creativity, and will add your voice to the conversation in each post’s comment section. In particular, you may find it worth your while to explore the Course in Demonic Creativity, which organizes this blog’s “backbone posts” into a coherent course of self-study in the art of creativity as a muse-driven or daimon-driven pursuit. (For an even more easily accessible and portable presentation, look for an ebook version later this year.)
Be advised that the present post inaugurates a new format that will include 1) occasionally longer articles with endnotes and 2) a drastic reduction in the number of in-text links. For a rationale concerning the second part, see “Experiments in delinkification” by Nicholas Carr, author of “Is Google Making Us Stupid?” and its book-length expansion, The Shallows: What The Internet Is Doing to Our Brains. Also see “To link or not to link? That is the question” at The Economist and “The Hyperlink War” at the Barnes & Noble Review. Or do a Google search for hyperlinks + distraction. For a rationale concerning the first part: Endnotes keep a reader engaged in the same text instead of leading attention away.
* * *
To review, in the opening post of this series I raised the question of whether the personification of the creative force that we’ve been pursuing here at Demon Muse is “really real.” Is the muse, the daimon, the personal genius — that gravitational center of our creative energy and identity — truly a separate being/force/entity with an independent, autonomous existence? Or are such words and the experience to which they refer simply convenient metaphors for the unconscious mind? The first thing we discover when we truly begin to consider the issue in depth is that arriving at a viable answer will not be, and cannot be, as straightforward a matter as it might first appear. All of our attempts run us into immediate difficulties, because whichever side we try to choose, we find we’re automatically skirting important issues and begging crucial questions. Hence, the value of reviewing some of the various ways in which intelligent individuals have understood the experience of guidance and communication from a muse-like source.
Of all the myriad strands in the cultural conversation about this issue, it would be hard to identify a more pertinent — or fascinating (and entertaining) — one than the line of influence connecting 20th-century occultist Aleister Crowley to psychedelic guru Timothy Leary to counterculture novelist-philosopher and “guerilla ontologist” Robert Anton Wilson. The dividing line between objective and subjective interpretations of the experience of external-seeming communication from an invisible source is highlighted not only in their individual stories but in the plotline that connects them. In particular, Wilson’s final “resting point” in terms of a belief system to encompass the whole thing is helpful and instructive in our search for the muse’s ontological status, and can prove a helpful tonic for dogmatism, because what he ended up with was more of an anti-belief system that highlights and hinges on the irreducible indeterminacy of any possible answer.
By way of a warning: Prepare for high weirdness! What follows is a strange story. Read the rest of this entry »




Have you gotten to know your creative demon? (If not, see “