This theme was a difficult one for me. Who or what was my muse? It finally came to me, most of my life I looked down. My OCD, neurosis, call it what you will, had me looking down at the pavement avoiding cracks, life and eye contact. The soundtrack, perhaps familiar to those of us of a certain generation, “step on a crack, break your mother’s back” was on a continuous loop. This little ruse kept me isolated but safe.
Thank god (or goddess) for my therapist Richard who very calmly asked, “What do you think would happen if you looked up?” He got me on that one. I wasn’t quite sure. But now I know that there are marvels to behold by simply tilting my glance upwards. So my muse is Richard whose voice reminds me to simply look up. 
Looking up is a great muse!
I love that story—that a muse can simply be a change in perspective from another human or the tilt of your gaze.