Free The War of Art by Steven Pressfield

remember, is the daughter of Zeus, Father of the Gods, and Memory, Mnemosyne. That’s a pretty impressive pedigree. I’ll accept those credentials.
     
    I’ll take Xenophon at his word; before I sit down to work, I’ll take a minute and show respect to this unseen Power who can make or break me.

 
     
    INVOKING THE MUSE,
    PART THREE
    ----
     
    Artists have invoked the Muse since time immemorial. There is great wisdom to this. There is magic to effacing our human arrogance and humbly entreating help from a source we cannot see, hear, touch, or smell. Here’s the start of Homer’s Odyssey , the T. E. Lawrence translation:
     
    O Divine Poesy, goddess, daughter of Zeus, sustain for me this song of the various-minded man who, after he had plundered the innermost citadel of hallowed Troy, was made to stray grievously about the coasts of men, the sport of their customs, good and bad, while his heart, through all the sea-faring, ached with an agony to redeem himself and bring his company safe home. Vain hope—for them. The fools! Their own witlessness cast them aside. To destroy for meat the oxen of the most exalted Sun, wherefore the Sun-god blotted out the day of their return. Make this tale live for us in all its many bearings, O Muse. . . .
     
    This passage will reward closer study.
     
    First, Divine Poesy. When we invoke the Muse we are calling on a force not just from a different plane of reality, but from a holier plane.
     
    Goddess, daughter of Zeus . Not only are we invoking divine intercession, but intercession on the highest level, just one remove from the top.
     
    Sustain for me . Homer doesn’t ask for brilliance or success. He just wants to keep this thing going.
     
    This song . That about covers it. From The Brothers Karamazov to your new venture in the plumbing-supply business.
     
    I love the summation of Odysseus’ trials that comprises the body of the invocation. It’s Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey in a nutshell, as concise a synopsis of the story of Everyman as it gets. There’s the initial crime (which we all inevitably commit), which ejects the hero from his homebound complacency and propels him upon his wanderings, the yearning for redemption, the untiring campaign to get “home,” meaning back to God’s grace, back to himself.
     
    I admire particularly the warning against the second crime, to destroy for meat the oxen of the most exalted Sun . That’s the felony that calls down soul-destruction: the employment of the sacred for profane means. Prostitution. Selling out.
     
    Lastly, the artist’s wish for his work: Make this tale live for us in all its many bearings, O Muse.
     
    That’s what we want, isn’t it? More than make it great, make it live. And not from one angle only, but in all its many bearings.
     
    Okay.
     
    We’ve said our prayer. We’re ready to work. Now what?

 
    THE MAGIC OF MAKING A START
    ----
     
    Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would not otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man would have dreamed would come his way. I have learned a deep respect for one of Goethe’s couplets: “Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, magic, and power in it. Begin it now.”
     
    —W. H. Murray,
    The Scottish Himalayan Expedition
     
    Did you ever see Wings of Desire , Wim Wenders’s film about angels among us? ( City of Angels with Meg Ryan and Nicolas Cage was the American version.) I believe it. I believe there are angels. They’re here, but we can’t see them.
     
    Angels work for God. It’s their job to help us. Wake us up. Bump us along. Angels are agents