Creative inspiration is often described as a mysterious force, seemingly arriving from nowhere and bestowing us with the words, notes, colors, and gestures that compose art.
Artists rarely consider themselves to be the source of their creativity. Most believe they’re conduits to a creative energy. In Piet Mondrian’s words: “The position of the artist is humble. He is essentially a channel.”
So, where does inspiration really come from? Who or what is this mysterious muse?
In ‘Everything Is a Remix’, I wrote about Barbara Kingolver’s ‘Demon Copperhead,’ a modern reconstruction of Charles Dickens’ ‘David Copperfield.’ What I didn’t mention was how the idea came to Kingsolver – a fascinating tale that will test the most skeptic spirit.
In 2018, upon finishing one of her book tours in the UK, author Barbara Kingsolver took a holiday weekend with her husband. They decided to rent a British cottage by the ocean, which had once been Charles Dickens’ seaside residence.
They had the place to themselves and were free to roam each room, even explore Charles Dickens’ study. So naturally, as any writer would, Kingsolver decided one night to go up and sit at Dickens’ desk. She had been wrestling with what project to write next. She had an inkling – the opioid epidemic had been weighing heavy on her mind – but she “couldn’t find the doorway in.” She knew the topic invoked strong opinions and felt held back by self-doubt. She “longed to tell this story, but felt sure nobody would want to hear it.”
And then, she heard a voice who said: “Look to the child.”
As Kingsolver describes:
“I am not in the habit of communing with the dead. I’m a scientist by training, a skeptic by nature, but there and then I felt a ghost of outrage past, suggesting I was a coward if I couldn’t risk telling the stories that matter most. Whether or not people want to hear about such things. It’s the artist’s job to make them want to hear.”
That was the first and last time she heard Dickens’ voice, but she felt his presence throughout her writing experience. She writes: “He watched my story grow long in the shadow and shape of his. He’s never spoken again, so I think we’re good. I’m taking his visit that night as a gesture of permission. Because writers do this, cast their bread on the waters, that’s literature. A long conversation through time and space.”
While some, like Kingsolver, accidentally encounter creative ghosts. Others, like artist Hilma Af Klint, conjure them intentionally.
In 1896, Klint and four other women formed “The Five,” a group devoted to the study of mediumship. They would regularly meet and conduct seances, carefully documenting and sketching the messages they received. After a decade of these sessions, Hilma Af Klint was chosen by the “higher powers” to create a series of paintings. She made 193 artworks, known as ‘The Paintings of the Temple’ – her way of capturing “the invisible realm.”
Klint asked that the paintings not be shown until after her death – she felt the public wasn’t ready. She also had a specific vision for how they should be displayed. She wanted to build “a spiritual center in the form of a temple with three circular levels, built around a central tower that could be traversed on a spiral-shaped path.” Klint wasn’t able to start her spiritual center, but fifteen years after her death a remarkably similar building opened in NYC: the Guggenheim Museum. The unique structure was commissioned by its first director Hilla Rebay, who wanted the museum to be a “temple of spirit.”
In 2018, the Guggenheim organized Hilma Af Klint’s first US solo show – one of the most transcendent exhibits I’ve experienced. Though a relatively unknown artist, Klint’s paintings enraptured audiences, making it the most attended Guggenheim exhibit.
Coincidence or other worldly vision?
There is power in the invisible, perhaps more so than we’re comfortable admitting. We tend to diminish reality to the material world. Afterall, our mind acts as a filter, only retaining information deemed useful for our survival – leaving out the magic.
Yet, artists and mystics have braved the frontier of the unknown, in a quest for answers from other realms. They’ve often returned with incredible insights, gems of wisdom, and other worldly creations.
So I turn to them this full moon, and offer you 7 sensory ways – see, hear, smell, taste, touch, balance and envision – to invite the muses from beyond.
This month’s theme inspired my latest video poem, created in collaboration with
who composed the enchanting soundtrack.In Joy,
Sabrina
SEE
‘Spirit Summonings’ | book by Time-Life
Available online
In the late 80s, Time-Life published ‘Mysteries of the Unknown,’ a book series about paranormal phenomenons. ‘Spirit Summonings,’ dives into the various ways to communicate with spirits. Whether the featured channelers are charlatans or divine conduits remains an open-ended question, but the tales and characters are nonetheless fascinating.
There are those who channel Hindu Gods or Christian Apostles, and others who tap into the spirit of a dolphin pod. The mediums are various, but the message often remains consistent: take care of the planet and love one another.
The book’s images and photos are firmly rooted in the 80’s aesthetic, giving the topic a sense of absurd charm and levity.
HEAR
Rosemary Brown channeling classic composers
Listen online
Rosemary Brown claims that when she was seven, she was visited by the spirit of the dead composer Franz Liszt. Decades later, Liszt apparently visited her again, this time guiding her in composing his music. Other dead composers followed suit, including Beethoven, Bach, and Mozart, dictating their new works to Rosemary as she sat at her piano.
The story may sound incredible but many music experts believe the legitimacy of Rosemary Brown’s experience, claiming that her musical training was too limited to have written such convincing imitations of famous composers’ works. To glimpse into her process, you can watch this seven minute interview, or this longer documentary where Brown can be seen channeling a composition by Beethoven (34:36 minutes in).
SMELL
Cempasúchil (Marigolds)
I briefly wrote about Marigolds last month in my Mexico City Travel Guide.
Cempasúchil (or Cempaxuchitl) – meaning Flower of the Dead – is the Aztec name of the marigold flower native to Mexico. The use of marigold is traced back to Aztec rituals, where the flower was associated with the goddess Mictecacihuatl, or the Lady of the Dead.
According to the Aztec myth, Mictecacihuatl allowed spirits to travel back to earth to reconnect with their family members during Day of the Dead. The bright colored marigolds with their musky fragrance are said to help guide the souls of the deceased to their family homes.
During Day of the Dead, marigold petals are often displayed forming a path from the family’s front door to their dedicated altar and offerings. In smaller towns, families might even lay a floral path from the cemetery to their house.
TASTE
Cemetery Recipes
Food is a powerful way to remember our loved ones. A recipe can live on from one generation to the next, as a culinary thread beyond death. Some take it a step further and have their favorite recipes etched on their gravestones.
I discovered this peculiar tradition via Rosie Grant, a grad student at the University of Maryland studying to be an archivist. During the pandemic lockdown, she decided to begin cooking the recipes she found on gravestones.
Among the recipes Grant found and made are Naomi Miller-Dawson's Spritz cookies, Kathryn "Kay” Andrews' Fudge, Connie's date and nut bread, and Margaret Davis' glazed blueberry pie. The recipes are typically desserts but someone recently sent her a photo of their mother’s grave, which featured a savory recipe – the red lantern cheese dip.
TOUCH
Ancestor Altar
All around the world, there is a season to contemplate Death and commemorate those who have passed. Regardless of culture and location, the celebration takes place between late October and early November – in the form of Halloween, Día de Los Muertos or La Toussaint. In many traditions, this is the time of the year when “the veil is thinnest,” and the spirit and material worlds can more easily connect.
In celebration of this holiday, I gathered photos of my deceased loved ones. I bought their favorite flowers, along with marigolds. Since this is the first year of my father’s passing, he had the place of honor on my altar.
The act of creating time and space to commemorate – by picking flowers, displaying symbolic objects, looking at photos – felt deeply connective. Whether my loved ones’ spirits are there or not, I felt closer to them.
BALANCE
Jumbled Mantra
Jumbled Mantras are messages captured from the ether – words to contemplate. This month’s mantra invites us to meditate on this paradox:
Witness the Invisible
Can we use our seven senses to experience realms beyond our material reality? Meditation is one of the tools that can widen our perception and access liminal spaces. If you’re curious to practice, I’m offering weekly guided audio meditations in Present Sense.
ENVISION
‘Phantom Muse’ video poem | soundtrack by
(cover art: ‘Constant Companion’ by Angela Deane).
For this month’s theme, I wanted to explore the ethereal muse of inspiration through poetry. I created this video poem and collaborated with
, who composed a hauntingly beautiful soundtrack for it.We’re working on other projects together and I can’t wait to share those with you soon. To learn more about
‘s work, I highly recommend subscribing to his Substack.
Wow, what an abundance of gifts! And what a beautiful collaboration. I make an offering to my ancestors each morning, it’s a practice I began about 18 months ago, and it’s proved to be most rewarding ❤️🪶🕸️
Fascinating info, resources, and I love the video and music.