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No creative person is “on” all the time.

That's why I'm sitting here at five in the morning writing this.

I'm just coming off of a weekend spent (virtually) at the 2022 Current Pagan Studies conference, for which this year's theme was “Visions of Imagination and Creativity.” There's nothing quite like spending a couple of days hearing a bunch of smart, creative people sharing thoughts on the nature of creativity and our relationship with it, to get one thinking about one's own.

Here's mine: when I'm “on”, I run with it.

I have a certain superstition that, in the course of any given life, there's X amount of creativity given to each of us. You can use it or not, as you choose. But—like everything else—there's a limit to how much you get. Say “no” to creativity, and it may not be back.

I'm not entirely sure that I actually do believe this. For one thing, my experience has been that creativity builds on creativity: that, like an athlete, the more you exercise a particular muscle, the more performance you'll be able to get out of it in the future. But, at very least, I find that operating on this belief—that there's a limited amount of inspiration available to me in this lifetime—seems to be the best way to get the most out of my creative faculties.

I lay down the other afternoon to get some much-needed sleep. Drifting off, I found myself thinking of a couple of stories that I'd written years ago, but since lost: “Why Hare Has Forward Testicles” and “How Coyote F*cked the Chief's Son (and Got Away With It).”

(Unlike virtually any other male animal on the planet, buck hares wear their testicles in front of their penises rather than behind them. Hey, that's worth a story. And as for the other: well, what's more fun than a good, raunchy Coyote story, especially one with lots of hot, consensual gay sex?)

Well, old man Coyote was out hunting one day and, as usual, not having much luck.

Suddenly, a nice fat duck falls down dead out of the sky and whump! lands right at his feet. Sweet, thinks Coyote, and picks up the duck. He hasn't gone very far before he runs into Wolf.

That's my duck you've got there, says Wolf.

It fell at my feet, says Coyote.

Yeah, but that's my arrow through it, says Wolf.

It landed in my territory, says Coyote.

Yeah, but I shot it in mine, says Wolf.

Tell you what, says Coyote. Let's have a contest. We'll kick each other in the nuts, and whoever's still standing at the end, gets the duck.

Fair enough, says Wolf.

Great, I'll go first, says Coyote, and he hauls off and thunk! plants him a good, solid one, right where it hurts.

Well, Wolf, he lets out a howl like you've never heard before. First he turns white, then he turns red, then he turns blue. But he's still standing.

My turn now, says Wolf.

Just exactly what Coyote did to get Bear so riled up, I don't know.

Knowing Coyote, I'd say he probably seduced his daughter, or his son. Or maybe not. It was Wolf Moon, after all, cold enough to freeze the nose off your face, and early for Bear to be up and about.

He's always grouchy when he first wakes up in the spring—low blood sugar, probably—and, let's face it, Coyote's pretty irritating at the best of times.

So, anyway, Bear had been chasing Coyote through the snow and Coyote had skedaddled his mangy ass up a skinny old jack pine. He had to climb all the way up to the top where the branches were too small to support Bear's weight. Then he waited.

Well, Bear grumbled around the foot of the tree for a few days, but finally he gave up and went away to find something to eat.

Here's the problem. Going up, Coyote had adrenaline to help him up the tree, but after three days he was stiff with cold and weak with hunger, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to climb down out of that tree without falling and cracking his skull.

So, what did he do? What would you do in that situation?

Cat (Domestic): Spirit or Water

Spirit: Throughout the centuries, the domestic cat’s fortunes has risen and fallen. In Ancient Rome and Egypt, she was a goddess. Because a domestic cat symbolized the Egyptian god Bast, any person who killed a domestic cat was put to death. As the Cat-Mother, Bast embodied the benevolent aspects of Cat: fertility, love, and life-giving heat. In Rome, she represented the Goddess of Liberty. Roman legions carried images of domestic cats on their shields and standards.

In early Christian times, the domestic cat was regarded as a helper. Aboard Noah’s Ark, she kept out the Devil, who had taken on the form of a gnawing mouse. The “M” on her forehead was placed there by the Virgin Mary, in gratitude for her aid in putting the Baby Jesus to sleep. Stories of the saints featured a domestic cat killing the mice that tormented various Catholic saints.

Water: A late arrival in Japan, the domestic cat did not appear in Japanese folklore until about the 1400s. Since the Japanese believed that she brought good fortune, they made statues of this cat with her front left paw raised for good luck. In addition, Japanese sailors believed that the domestic cat kept the evil spirits away that dwelled in the sea.

Coyote

Among the Native Americans of the West, the coyote is revered for many things. The Shoshone say that Coyote and Wolf created the world. Among California Indians, Coyote taught people lessons about the mistakes they make in life.

Meanwhile among the Lakota, Coyote was a representative of Wakinyan (Thunder Beings). Those who saw the Coyote in a vision were considered Heyoka (Sacred Clowns), who taught, through example, by doing things the wrong way. Within the concept of Heyoka was an acceptance of Coyote’s innate wisdom of purposeful chaos.