A Juke Box From Hell

What used to be the hunch or the occasional inspiration gradually becomes a working part of the mind. Being inexperienced and having just made conscious contact with God, it is not probable that we be inspired at all times. We might pay for this presumptuous in all sorts of absurd actions and ideas...

Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 97

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Separating the creative modus from the spiritual has always been a difficult challenge. The muse I have followed has been to open the flood gates to the subconscious and to censor as little as possible… certainly not consciously at any rate. Following the muse was what I thought of as my spiritual path… the most important thing… and it was as far as I could fathom of conscious contact with God… the devil take the hindmost… or, to paraphrase the words of Johnny Boyo in the King Jimmy Big Book: “The wind blows where it leans, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell whence it comes, and where it goes: so is everyone born of the Spirit.” It doesn’t take much to see where this take on things doesn’t work very well off the page or canvas. If I behave as though I had God’s imprimatur on all my actions I would be locked up in jail or Shutter Island of my own making. The practice of spiritual principles follow this directive when I don’t know what to do; is it kind; is it necessary; is it true. Whenever I stray from this plum-line, and act rashly, I hurt myself or someone I care deeply about. It would be better to pause and ask; is it worth the price I pay for it? How much do I have to drop in this Juke Box from Hell to play my tune?

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