Good morning all. This is Your Morning Briefing, February 9, 2012.
So, Suzanne and I spent a quiet evening last night, talking of many things. Things that seemed to be somewhat ethereal yet real. She was content on talking in abstract terms about what she is hoping to tutor me in, and I was just as confused as I’ve always been since she showed up on my doorstep. Or, I should say, as she came walking through my door without opening it, or even knocking. I know Brandy and Bailey were as confused as I was at first. How these muses can do that is still a mystery to me. A magical mystery at the same time, and one I’m not sure I want to solve.
As we were talking, I told her the only thing I knew right now for sure was that I was looking at many things in a different light since she arrived, not the least of which was how I am dealing with the writing of these emails, that seemed to have taken on a life of their own since I started. I told her I wasn’t sure what was driving this bus, who was driving this bus or where this bus was going. Or, for that matter, why I feel compelled to do this every day. Never in my life as a reporter, or a would be writer have I experienced anything quite like it.
Suzanne sat back, lit up one of her wonderful, sweet smelling cigars, the candlelight illuminating that wonderful face, smiled and looked at me and said, “Bobby, what you are doing right now is something that has always been there, and you have now found the freedom you need to play with it. As you write these entries, you are freeing your imagination and emotions, and in doing so you are finding the voice you need to tell the stories you want to tell.”
I said, “My darling little Grecian goddess, you know how fanciful some of what I’ve written has been since you arrived. In fact, there are those who wonder about me for just that reason. How do I know where all of this is coming from? How do I know that it matters?”
She said, “You are familiar with Shakespeare, are you not?” I told her I was , and asked her if she was now going to tell me that she was related to him too. She laughed, and said, “You silly boy, of course not, he was English, and much younger than me, and as you know, I’m partial to older men.” I thought, “Well, sounds like an opening to me, I’d certainly qualify in that area.”
Anyway, she told me there was a line from Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice, Act III, Scene ii, that went so, “Tell me, where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head?”
I had to admit that I wasn’t familiar with it, though at one time I had the complete Yale University Shakespeare, plays, sonnets, the works. I had been a member of the Book of the Month Club. I lost it in the divorce.
She said, “Bobby, where it comes from you now is not as important as what you can learn from it. The words you write and send out every day are all part of the fancy you are breeding. You’ve always been like that, and that explains your love of music, theater and the arts, you’ve just had it on hold for too long a time. With the freedom you now have to explore that and to learn to play again, there’s no telling where it will take you.”
All I could think of to say to her was, “I don’t know if you are trying to seduce me into thinking I’m capable of more than I am, thus setting myself up for a disappointment, or if I can find the answer to Shakespeare’s question.”
Suzanne looked at me with those flashing green eyes, and quietly said, “You already have the answer. Your fancy is bred from the heart.”
She really is something, don’t you think?
Take care, be well and keep in touch.