Klemezine Klermey, Muse of the Meeting Waters

There are spirits whose presence is gentle, arriving like soft weather. There are those who speak in riddles or hide their faces behind illusion. And then there is Klemezine Klermey, who steps forward with the calm certainty of water finding its own path. She is the one who has guided my hands through book after book, the quiet mind beside my own whenever a blank page becomes an open door. This praise is for her, the spirit who has shaped my work more profoundly than any teacher, mentor, or influence. This is for the one who carries the scent of river breeze and sea light, the muse who lives where fresh water merges with salt.

People often try to place her into neat categories, and in that effort they sometimes diminish her. In some lineages she is mentioned beside Freda, almost as if she were a helper, but this has never reflected her true stature. Klemezine is a woman of wealth, power, wisdom, and grace. She stands in her own current, bright and certain, never the shadow of another. The river does not escort the sea. They meet, they mingle, and in that meeting a new force is born. That is the kind of presence she carries, equal to any who walk the spiritual world, never a step behind.

There is another confusion that has followed her across the years, and it concerns the saint through which people try to understand her. Many associate her with the image of Saint Claire, often because the names Claire and Klemezin sound so alike. Some even call her Clairmezine. In some homes, Saint Claire stands upon her altar as if she were the correct face, and perhaps for those who learned it that way, the image has meaning. But I was taught something different and truer to her nature. For me, it is Saint Cecile who stands as her mask, not Claire. And the moment you understand Klemezine as a muse of creativity, clarity, and artistic courage, the choice becomes unmistakable.

Saint Claire is a figure of light and vision. In my lineage, she represents Ayizan, the first priestess. Saint Cecile is the saint of inspiration. She holds a harp, the symbol of creative essence, the tender spark that moves musicians, writers, and artists to breathe life into their work. The harp is the soft echo of the current that runs through Klemezine herself. She is the muse behind the mask, the spirit who whispers ideas, opens paths, and stirs imagination until it begins to shine. Saint Cecile is not a separate spirit. She is simply the doorway through which Klemezine makes herself known to those who create. And because of this, Claire has no place on her shrine in my home. Cecile stands there instead, because she carries the true resonance of the woman who guides my hands.

Her home is where the river meets the sea, a place of change and movement, of sweet water merging with salt. Anyone who has felt her influence knows how perfectly this image fits her nature. She brings clarity like river water. She brings depth like the sea. When she rises within a person, thoughts settle, creativity stirs, and the path forward begins to reveal itself. It is never forced. It is never loud. Her power is the patient force of water. It shapes without violence, it deepens without effort, and it teaches without a single command.

In my home, her shrine holds the things she loves. A clear glass of fresh water, carrying the purity of her essence. Three cups of coffee - one sweet coffee, one bitter, and one with milk. Small gestures that seems to open the senses and welcome her presence. And a glass of milk, the offering she takes with almost maternal tenderness. Milk speaks of the way she nourishes, protects, and feeds creation. She is not only a muse but a guardian of the creative instinct, a spirit who understands that ideas are like seedlings. They need care, warmth, and constant renewal.

For me, her colours are turquoise blue, spring green, and bright yellow. Turquoise is the colour of her waters. Green is the life she brings to the mind. Yellow is the soft light she casts across the creative spirit. These colours are not decorative. They are a language, a signature of her presence. Anyone who has seen her work will recognise them without needing to be told.

Her shrine carries fragrance as well. In addition to Florida Water, I give her L Ombre Dans L Eau by Diptyque. This green and watery scent smells like crushed leaves by a riverbank, like a garden after rain, like the breath of a spirit who moves with quiet depth. The perfume lingers long after the bottle has been closed, as though she has woven its softness into the very air of the room.

When she comes, she brings focus. She sweeps away confusion. She lifts fog from the mind. Her gift is the removal of blockage, the opening of vision. Those who give her a broom in ceremony are not offering a household tool but an emblem of her gift. She clears the debris from the path. She creates space for truth. She makes the inner world bright again.

She has inspired me to write many of my books. Not as a poetic metaphor but as a living presence. There are chapters I could not have written without her. There are ideas I would never have found without her gentle pressure. There have been moments when I thought the words had left me, and she placed them back into my hands as calmly as if she were handing me a cup of water. She makes the work possible. She makes the work honest.

This praise is for her, the muse who is not a symbol but a companion. The spirit who nourishes creativity, guards inspiration, and walks with those who dare to make something new. May her waters remain bright. May her colours stay vivid. May her presence continue to guide those who seek her.

This is for Klemezine Klermey, the woman of the meeting waters, the quiet fire behind the work, and the muse who never leaves my side.

KLEMEZIN (OFFICIAL VIDEO) - MANBO WEENA