This is my office gargoyle*:
As you can see, he -- and for some reason I think of him as "he," but occasionally as "she" -- sits in my window of my home office. As I write, we contemplate one another with the same expression. In fact, I've come to insist that we always sit in a position in which we can maintain eye-contact when I look up. I think of him -- or her -- as quite helpful. As an ugly but benevolent being, she -- or he -- embodies something that enables me to write.
I've come to imagine all of the nasty, hateful voices that I have internalized and expanded upon as ugly little gremlins of varying sizes who undermine all of my ambitions, passions and successes. In fact, they feed off of them. They have voices that have multiple tones, much like a piano chord, with each note being the voice of a specific person, but all somehow sounding just like me. They keep me from writing.
I'm trying now to imagine the good voices, the ones I want to claim but somehow won't let myself. What do they look like or sound like? How can they fight off the gremlins. I like to think of my ambitions and passions and successes as the better angels of my nature. I just can't quite imagine them as angels. Angels have too much baggage and seem too foreign to my own mythology, which seems to be populated with monstrous beings. Yet, I still imagine these better angels as creatures with wings. The gargoyle seems to be the solution. Stuck as I am between the gremlins and the angels, an ugly creature with wings, who scares off evil spirits, has become my totem.
The office gargoyle sits there, as we contemplate one another with the same expression, and reminds me to tell the gremlins to shut the hell up, just in case I forget.
*Actually, he -- or she -- is a grotesque. Gargoyles are water spouts, creatures who "gargle," but I like the sound of the word, so I call grotesques "gargoyles."