Welcome in the Heroism of Your Authentic Muse

As a child, during the long warm summers, my siblings and I took to the woods and played all day until the streetlamps came on. Our mother, who wasn’t at all maternal, didn’t appear to care where we were. Not just because she had taught us survival skills and how to stand up for ourselves; for all of that — emotionally detached, she busied herself in her writing; either to a charitable cause, or the starting's of a book.

My sister’s friends thought she was interesting and cool, and yet I knew her as this cold, merciless green-eyed woman, who had two sets of knuckles that she wasn’t afraid to use. Back then, us siblings had less environmental stress but more emotional disharmony; the inevitable turbulence endured by a dysfunctional family.

We were enmeshed in spiritual poverty, yet free to run with the other kids from our neighbourhood. Being the 1970s, the social manifesto incurred some strict discipline in places, yet zero self-awareness.

We were considered different, and I felt it. We were hurting from selfish-blooded fathers and an eccentric and manic depressive mother. Each of us carried pain along the journey of our lives — forming coping mechanisms to quieten our emotional wounds.

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I write about my past to paint a picture of the broken pieces that are embedded in my soul. An intrinsic energy charges through this inner war, wanting to create and write a way out. Even so, I feel stifled by the immense power of my inner critic. I struggle to truly let go, to effortlessly write it all out even if my words flow from my broken sense of self , I fight to stop holding back.

It’s incredulous how the attachment to our inner critic’s voice can appear as our very own thoughts — this unconscious transaction fuses into our muse. No longer are we writing from a creative foundation, but from the critical muse of insecurity.

Searching for a place of stillness within our hearts forges an invitation for inner reflection. From here, we are open to question our thoughts, asking if they are coming from a voice of self-doubt or a voice of courage.

As we start to nurture the heroism of our muse, we become more pliable to blossom, reaching for new and tangible paradigms — rather than the suffocation,, we can actually reach for our authentic inner voice.

Remember: the inner critic, such treachery, appears as a method of discipline; nevertheless, the wrong kind of discipline damages the creative process.

So let go, let go, and let go again.

© Chantal Weiss 2025. All Rights Reserved