Everything

Taking the appearance of beautiful, young women dressed in flowing gowns and stylish clothing, the Muses guide and inspire all forms of artistic, scientific and magickal creation and discovery. Daughters of Zeus, king of the gods, and Mnemosyne (Greek for “memory”), the Muses are nine: Calliope, Clio, Euterpe, Terpsichore, Erato, Melpomene, Thalia, Polymnia, and Urania. They dwell on mount Helicon, and when they sing, the cosmos stand still.

Legend has it that when the Muses were born and initially erupted into song, a few men were so entranced by it that they joined in the divine melody and sang for days, without food or rest, until they perished. The Muses took pity on them and transformed them into cicadas, small insects that spend the entirety of their lives singing. Cicadas were also thought to be the Muses’ agents in the world, informing the goddesses of all they saw and telling them about those humans who honored them.

It was customary for poets in Ancient Greece to sum­ mon and thank the Muses before reciting their poems, for it was thought that all artistic creation originated from the Muses and the poet was but their faithful vessel. Hesiod, in his Theogony (“the birth of the gods”), was the first to deviate from this pattern; he addressed the Muses as teachers and mentors. Theogony holds an important place in early European poetry because, for the very first time, the artist recognized and claimed his place in the process of artistic creation… and, through it, in the whole cosmos. The Muses initiate Hesiod into the Art; the goddesses know all, and only assist the poet in remembering them.

Some among the Awakened think they have found a link between the magick and the Muses, matching each

of the nine deities to a corresponding Sphere, as follows: Urania, holding a pair of compasses, with Correspondence; Melpomene, carrying a knife, with Entropy; Erato, playing the lyre, with Forces; Thalia, leaning on a branch, with Life; studious Calliope with Matter; Euterpe, breathing through an aulos (a musical instrument similar to a pipe or a flute), with Mind; Terpsichore, her musical triangle chiming, with Prime; veiled Polymnia with Spirit; and Clio, bearing an hourglass, with Time.

But this is not a time for the Muses of old, and the goddesses have been forced to either wither away or adapt… and adapt they did. Calliope, the Muse of heroic poetry, the eldest and wisest of the nine sisters, is now the patron of comic books, video games, superheroes, action flicks, fantasy TV series and roleplaying games. Clio, the Muse of history, suffers from fits of madness: in an era of fake news, when the phrase “history is written by the winners” is universally accepted, in an age of rapid information and even more rapid responses, it is hard to keep up. During her moments of lucidity, Clio inspires a fervent desire for Truth within the hearts of few — but these moments are rare, and they’re becoming rarer still. Euterpe, the Muse of aulic art (that is, the art of playing the aulos) helps inspire the increasing popularity in the West of yoga, tai ch’i, and other meditative practices and martial arts focused on res­ piration. Hers is not a huge or terribly important influence on the world, but it is an influence, and it has kept Euterpe alive. Terpsichore, the Muse of lyrical poetry, has seen her influence grow with the rise of hip-hop wordcraft, and has since taken up a respectable place among her sisters after centuries of neglect. Erato, the Muse of erotic poetry, has been steadily gaining in power since the 18th century and the birth of Romanticism. She has taken romance and erotica writers under her wing, thriving in the success of popular fiction, love songs and rom-coms. Melpomene, the Muse of tragedy, will never be out of business. Human suffering knows no end, and Melpomene is always nearby. She inspires the majority of the goth scene and subculture, as well as much of modern fiction, TV dramas, and tearjerker films. Melpomene’s expertise often creates conflict with her sister, Calliope: One is moved by the heroics of war, the other by the grief it causes. Thalia, the Muse of comedy, is still relevant and sought-after today. She’s there for them all: stand-up comedians, internet satirists, actors, comedy writers, directors, even creators of memes. As important as it is to consider human tragedy, it is equally important to ban­ ish it with joy, laughter, and — when appropriate — mockery. Polymnia, initially the Muse of hymns (songs honoring the gods) and, later on, the Muse of mimic art, has regressed to her original state. She inspires every prayer, every Pagan or Christian rock song, and every hymn to every god. The 20th and 21st centuries have been good for Polymnia. Urania, the Muse of astronomy, is the only one who remains who she was. Not only because she is associated with science rather than art, but also (and perhaps more importantly) because humanity will always look to the stars for hope and guidance. Urania

inspires scientific discovery, yes, but she does something even greater than that: She fills our hearts with the desire to fly, to touch and understand the stars, to demand the impossible.

The Muses have certainly changed a lot since their birth. Still, however, they remain spirits of purity and light, bring­ ing beauty and solace to all. They still know everything, and they still remind it to this age’s poets. And they still sing in harmony the Musica Universalis, the Music of the Spheres.

The Muses tend to be imagined in the flowing garments of Classical Greece. Centuries of preconception bleach those garments white, but people who understand the history of the Greek people see the clothing in vivid colors instead. (The image of white clothing comes from statues whose bright hues were bleached white by time and sunlight.) Their hair coils in marvelous styles of exotic antiquity, and their voices reverberate with stately accents.

In reality, the Muses manifest like gorgeous women of modern Europe. Art moves with the times, and so too have the Muses. Stylish and confident, they radiate that same transcendent sense of charm; their voices, though, catch the fluid tone of modern media discourse, moving within a syllable from Hollywood American or vernacular English to the emphatic tones of Japanese cinema and the Arabian lilt of modern spoken Greek. These days, their clothes tend

toward darker, monochromatic hues, but fit them as if those clothes were made for the sisters… which, of course, they were.

The personalities and dominions of each Muse come through in her bearing and clothes. The colors of their hair range from the somber blackness of Melpomene’s long locks to the passionate fire of Erato’s disheveled bed-head, Calliope’s bright purple styles, Terpsichore’s dark dreadlocks, and the incandescent blonde of Thalia’s manic tresses. Poor Clio can’t decide what color her hair should be, while Urania favors the bookish dark hair of the archetypal “hot librarian.” Euterpe’s hair changes with her mood, though it often favors the silver hue of her favored instrument, and Polymnia’s hair mirrors the bright flare of sunlight on the Aegean Sea. Though many people imagine them with Northern European skin tones, the Muses favor the darker color of their Mediterranean heritage. Inspiration, of course, knows no single culture, and so the Muses appear in whatever forms they please at that particular time; one moment Southeast Asian, tall and Nordic the next. Like art itself, the Muses are universal.