Without Dependence On The Muses Poem by gershon hepner

Without Dependence On The Muses



For writers born with inborn talent
inspiration comes like water from a spring.
Those without it make a gallant
effort to dig within their brains to give thought wing.
Digging thus provides a skill
that frees a writer from dependence on the muses,
so that his thoughts may always spill
upon the page, not needing booze or any floozies.

This poem was inspired by a suggestion by Kli Yaqar, Shlomo Ephraim ben Aaron Luntschitz (1550–3 March 1619) , on Num.4: 22 that the reason why God does not command the clan of Levi’s firstborn son, Gershon, to carry the Ark, giving this honor to the clan of his young son, Kohath, is because He wanted to emphasize that inborn talent like that of Kohath take precedence over genealogical rank.

After reading this interpretation of Kli Yaqar I chanced upon a short story by Haruki Murakami in The New Yorker of June 9 & 16 (“The Running Noveslist”) . Murakami, a celebrated Japanese novelist, is also a runner, having run a marathon a year for the last 20 years. In “The Running Novelist” he points out that he became a novelist at the age of thirty-three, the age that Christ died and J. Scott Fitzgerald started to go downhill. It is also the age when he started to be a long distance runner. He writes that inborn talent can be a disadvantage for both long-distance running and writing, because when the talent disappears the person has nothing to fall back on, whereas the person who has to work hard to achieve any skill has the ability to continue using these skills for his entire life, not dependent on talent:

Writers who are blessed with inborn talent can write easily, not matter what they do—or don’t do. Like water from a natural spring, the sentences just well up, and with little or no effort these writers can complete a work. Unfortunately I don’t fall into that category. I have to pound away at a rock with a chisel and dig out a deep hole before I can locate the source of my creativity. Every time I begin a new novel, I have to dredge out another hole. But, as I’ve sustained this kind of life over many years, I’ve become quite efficient, both technically and physically, at opening these holes in the rock and locating new water veins. As soon as I notice once source drying up, I move on to another. If people who rely on a natural spring of talent suddenly find they’ve exhausted their source, they’re in trouble. In other words, let’s face it: life is basically unfair. But, even in a situation that’s unfair, I think it’s possible to seek out a kind of fairness.


6/8/08

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