A Metaphor:
Muse, DJ, Bouncer

Think of the Muse, think of yourself, as the host of a party. And congratulations—you’ve put together the very best party anybody can imagine. The room looks perfect, awash in the kind of light that makes everybody beautiful. The stress of the long work week has slipped away on currents of fancy cocktails, scrumptious snacks, and the kind of music that makes everybody move. You’ve planned a perfect playlist: heart-pumping dance tunes, rousing sing-alongs, and sultry slow songs—each seems to be played at exactly the right moment. Even when you grab your phone and start to improvise, you can’t seem to make a mistake. Every song you pick works. Everybody feels like their very best self—energized, interesting, sexy, and connected.

You know this party. You’ve been to it—even if only for a few minutes, at that part of the night when everything is good and gold and glittering, when you are exactly a worry-free, thought-free, fully-feeling-amazing spirit.

Tonight, this is your party. You’ve planned it, created it. You’re making it work. You are an ideal host. You are an ideal DJ.

And then you hear it: a faint knock, knock. You ignore it, but it gets louder and then louder still. Luckily, it seems like only you can hear it. Knock, knock, knock. You know exactly what’s happening. It’s your neighbor banging on the door. It’s your neighbor who thinks the music is too loud and the hour is too late. And maybe it is. But if you open that door, lower the music, ask your guests to “keep it down”—well, that’s even worse than an angry neighbor. That’s the end of the party, the moment when the revelers look at their watch, remember themselves, and reckon they can still get home for a proper night’s sleep.

Inside is magic and energy and the party-induced possibilities of an anything-goes perfect night. Outside is the end of all that—the prick that pops the party. And make no mistake: it’s a zero-sum proposition; there is no reasonable compromise that won’t snuff out the magic. Everything is so perfectly-calibrated, that any change—a brightening of the lights, a softening of the music—breaks the spell.

As the Muse, you are both DJ and bouncer, the one who must stir the hot feelings of the crowd and keep the cold wind of reason barred tightly behind the door. The worst thing you can do is answer the door. Let the bastards knock it down.