[image description: A beautiful haloed dark-skinned woman with long flowing black hair, several golden bracelets, a star on her forehead and two stars for earrings. Behind her, a bright yellow gold circle radiates out into a deep purple then violet sky. In hand, a huge sunflower with an eye at its center. Other flowers (also with eyes) float around her amid several concentric rings of 6-pointed stars. Text reads, “ #261, ANNA SPIRATION, the small god of NEW IDEAS”]
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She comes when least expected. In the shower. At a cocktail party. On the crosstown bus. While waiting for airport security. And then she goes when she feels like it. As soon as you get a pen. When the house is quiet and your coffee is hot and there’s nothing else demanding your time. She is fickle and she is fleeting and she is never, never here for a long time, just a good time. She knows how quickly her hour is over and done with.
For indeed, she arrives, and she makes herself comfortable, and then she is replaced, by Mr. Wippy and the comfortable middle. She understands why it has to be like that. The hot light of inspiration is too much for the body to bear for very long; only when it dims and eases can it be made real, rather than something too perfect and precious to behold.
Anna comes only briefly, but if you treat her kindly, she will come to you over and over again, never staying long, not always welcome, but always gowned in glory and ready to lift you up into the brilliance of a future sketched entirely in ideal, not actuality. Every book is perfect when Anna brings it to you, every harmony lilting, every painting breathtaking. And they’ll stay that way, as long as she cups them in her hands, which is why she puts them into yours.
Anna yearns, more than anything, for imperfection, for presence, for the dirt and distortion of actual existence. She’ll keep bringing you her dreams until she gets it.