What Might Have Been or Will Be How fortunate you are to be a writer who is on good terms with her muse, and be the poet touched with a gift of language and poetic insight, Even blessed with a touch of psychic ability. For there is available to you a stream of knowledge, energy flowing through the air akin to radio waves. This field of knowledge encircles the globe and consists of all knowledge that ever was. It is the energy shed by all souls departing since first man, left on deposit, available to all who follow, ready to be tapped and utilized when needed. The key to knowledge is locked away in the right brain and can be activated by thoughtful meditation, close communion with the muse, or dogged, grueling repetitive research. Can we know and learn what the muses and psychic tendencies brew up by the stories we tell? Or what bright splashes of color energize our poetry as we stand in the grand cathedral, and watch greatness at work. We have touched this energy field, felt it surge through bodies, the brain swelled with exurbance and excitement, the muse working overtime, the hands can not keep up. Life was happening, much to tell. Think of it. You, your muse, your psychic all working together, pounding out sheet after sheet, story after story, oh glorious possibilities. When out of the blue it happens. The muse takes a break, gets a cup of tea, walks by, that magical mirror that goes back and forth in time, says look at yourself, old and wrinkled, can't write. Stop right there. Muses are fickle, come and go like the tide. With the right brain, tap into that other source of electrical energy. Communing with the energy of those past. It will re-charge the mind. Sitting alone, hearing far off waves lapping some distant shore, knowing you are at peace with your own essence, pondering all possibilities and what is yet to be and life waiting to be told.