In certain circles, you don’t sit down to a meal without first saying grace. In the Western literary tradition, you don’t write poetry without first asking a blessing from a muse.
In Ancient Greece, the Muses formed a group of nine goddesses, each deity associated with a different art form. In more modern times, artists have often chosen a personal muse or muses, such as a patron, a lover, the Virgin Mary, or the Holy Spirit.
For example, Renaissance writer Edmund Spenser opens his verse allegory The Faerie Queene by begging for help from Calliope, the muse of epic poetry. For added support, he also sends up a plea to Cupid, Venus, Mars, and Queen Elizabeth I.
For centuries, such an “invocation of the muse” was so firmly established as a custom that it would have been unthinkable to launch into an epic or a romance without it. Then, from about the eighteenth-century on, the muses began to fade out of English poetry. Modern poets started to poke fun at the old habit of praying for inspiration, creating mock invocations. And as women writers stepped into the public sphere, many of them found that the erotically charged relationship between the typical poet and his muse didn’t work for them.
As someone who spent grad school immersed in feminist literary theory, I get that the Muses are complicating figures. I also think they might be ready for a comeback, if not in the literary world then in the realms of knowledge translation and science communication.
So often, I hear researchers, knowledge mobilizers, and science communicators lament about how challenging it is to think outside the box of traditional research communication. After all, a scientific poster with colourful infographics is still a poster, and a podcast that explains research without kindling enthusiasm is just a peer-reviewed article in audio format.
In knowledge translation, as in any other activity, success is one percent inspiration and 99 percent perspiration. But if you don’t have that one percent of creative impetus, all the perspiration can come to nothing. You can spend hours sweating over Plain Language summaries and packaging them into easy-to-digest formats and still find that your outputs fail to connect with your intended audience and motivate action.
So maybe it’s time to reconsider the Muses and the aid they can offer. As a starting point, here’s the list of the nine Greek goddesses and a few thoughts on how they might be able to help you make your communication products more vibrant and appealing:
- Calliope, Muse of epic poetry—Epic poetry tells grand stories at the scale of cultures and civilizations. Are you trying to supplant an established narrative with a new, evidence-backed story? Does the knowledge you want to share have the potential to rewrite history? If so, spending some time reflecting on the grand narratives of the past and how they were crafted could spark some fresh ideas.
- Clio, Muse of history—Clio reminds us that there’s no such thing as an historical fact. All history is story woven by humans and bears the imprint of the historian’s subjectivity. Are you having trouble connecting with an audience whose perspective is opposed to yours? Do you find yourself frustrated by explaining and re-explaining what really happened or is happening? Clio encourages us to embrace and appreciate multiple perspectives so we can enter into our audience’s world view and meet them there.
- Erato, Muse of lyric and love poetry—Epic poetry focuses on grand events, like battles and regime changes. In contrast, lyric poetry is more personal. It conveys emotions, especially romantic feelings. Are your communication products flawlessly produced (Plain Language perfect) but not resonating with the intended audience? You may need to make your approach more personal. Make sure you're not lecturing your audience about what they should know and do. Instead, show them how much you care about them and the choices they make.
- Euterpe, Muse of music—Music offers a powerful way to convey emotion, either as the main medium or the background to video. Music is also an aspect of language. Do you find that your written communication products come across as a bit stiff or have a flat tone? Try improving their musicality. Experiment with including rhyme, alliteration (a series of words with the same first consonant sound), and onomatopoeia (words that make the sound they describe, like “buzz.”)
- Melpomene, Muse of tragedy—Tragedy reveals the paradoxes of what it means to be a flawed human creature with almost limitless potential, and it keeps us alert to the possibility of epiphanies (sudden moments of awakening) and redemption. Do you ever find yourself getting irritated with an audience that’s slow to wake up to the value of your ideas? Spending some time with the Muse of tragedy could help you craft more moving stories that take the audience on a journey of self-awareness and transformation.
- Polymnia, Muse of sacred poetry—Without getting too woo-woo, let me just say that communicating knowledge is a sacred act. You are bringing the fire down from Mount Olympus, and that’s a great responsibility. Knowledge-sharing is also sacred because it touches real people and influences their lives. Do you find yourself worn down by the day-to-day of your knowledge mobilization work? It may help to breathe a bit with Polymnia and consider the deeper implications of your communication tasks.
- Terpsichore, Muse of dancing—Dancing can be a great way to communicate the emotion you want your audience to associate with your message. It’s also a useful metaphor for your relationship with your audience. All communication is a kind of conversation in which you must engage your partner(s) and interact with them dynamically. Do you wish your stakeholder conversations, meetings, and events were more lively and fruitful? Terpsichore could be a helpful ally for you.
- Thalia, Muse of comedy—Comedy takes us on a romp through a topsy-turvy world—and then everything turns out all right in the end. Thalia calls our attention to the predictable structure that underlies compelling stories. She also reminds us of the human craving for closure and certainty. Does your audience resist newly discovered knowledge because it’s strange? Do they prefer certain to better? Thalia can help you work with those natural responses rather than fighting against them.
- Urania, Muse of astronomy—Urania focuses us on the big vision that drives our work, directing our gaze to the stars. She can help us do the same for our audiences, who often tend to be pragmatic, focused on what’s right in front of them rather than what’s years or decades down the road. Do your audiences get stuck because they’re worried about today at the expense of tomorrow? Look to Urania for help lifting their eyes above ground-level to appreciate the beauty and benefits of your long-term view.
In this age of AI-enabled communication, we need the Muses more than ever. Human creativity, human insight, and human connectedness are the forces that help move knowledge into action.
May the Muses be with you this week as you craft communication products not just to inform your stakeholders but also to uplift and inspire them!
Comments