Finding Your Own Road.

Posted on June 10, 2014 by Brian B Baker

The road follows its own course, we’re just along for the ride.

We stare at the road presented before us, its trees, thorns ad cracked and splintered surface, but what we rarely see are the wildflowers growing in the ditch on the side of the road.

The wildflowers, though beautiful, are hidden from view. They’re rarely seen and seldom talked about, but the cracked and splintered surface is discussed often.

Our roads lead only where we want them to. The only thing we can do is get off the highway, find a gas station, and ask for directions, but we don’t like directions, or at least not a lot of us.

Our direction, whether going through a big city, or a small town, always leads us through cracks and thorns, but once we reach the city, do we stop and look for beautiful areas, no, we’re resigned to believe there are none.

Cities are beautiful, but we often forget about the architecture around us unless we’re standing in it.

Towns don’t have the rush of the city, but they have the problems, and once we’re entangled in those problems they become bigger than the city.

A stop in the towns is wonderful for some people, as are cities, but getting beyond those and discovering what lies beyond the city gates or the township’s borders, that’s when you discover the correct road.

Stay on the road, follow the course and let it take you where you need to be.

Living The Gift of The Cosmos

Posted on June 3, 2014 by Brian B Baker

Whatever future, whatever past, each day brings us to the very last.

We see our life, but detest the idea of our death. We wait until the very moment, or near the moment, we’re going to die to make amends.

This ability is purely human.

Does a bird tell the bug sorry for eating it, no. Will the parent of a turtle long-buried in the beach, be sorry for leaving its children on the beach, possibly, but humans are the only creature that is truly sorry for things its done, but we don’t say sorry, and mean it, as much as we should.

Our lives are gasps of air in the middle of a cosmos of gasps. We see the stars overhead, but don’t think about the life we’re living, or how it affects the people around us, not to mention the environment.

Our gasps or air are stories in a cosmos of stories. Our lives, deaths and eventual rebirths, are nothing short of miraculous in a cosmos which pays no mind to person in Africa starving, or to the person in America who is doing the same thing.

The difference between the two is the ability to change the way things are.

We see the stories and the little gasps after they’ve happened, but the problem is, we never understand the reasons for our life, or for why we’re here.

We live in a life where the world changes faster than it has at any other point in history, but we never stop to look around, never think about doing things to help those around us, and oftentimes, we don’t think about those we hurt.

Our little gasps are just that, breaths of air escaping through tubes and chambers underneath our skin, but the act of breathing is something we don’t control, it occurs for us without thinking about it.

In a cosmos full of extraordinary things, we still don’t think about what each breath means or what each day is.

In our world, our life is lived day-to-day, but we don’t think about our life as what encompasses it.

Get through the gasps and stare into the cosmos and see your life for what it is, a gift from the creation of the universe.

Ignoring Fear and Living

Posted on May 29, 2014 by Brian B Baker

Whatever future, whatever past, each day brings us to our very last.

These words are something which ran through my head the other day during meditation. I’m not sure where they came from. Maybe I tapped into something which was screaming to be heard, or my mind thought, “let’s screw with him”.

It’s possibly the first and not the latter, but neither would be surprising.

Our future is there in front of us, yelling at us, telling us we can do amazing things, if we’d just do them and quit stalling or being afraid, but fear is always what keeps us from doing things.

Fear drives us to commit horrible crimes and fear creates people who otherwise wouldn’t be heard if not for their fear.

Stealing away from fear, our lives are our own. They are run by us, and only us. We do the things we want, because fear has less hold on us than anything else, but the fear is always there, it’s just hidden away.

Our past may not be the way we wanted it to be, no ones never truly is, but it’s there to learn from, to destroy the fear residing inside and chase the demons of our past into the night.

The night holds fear, but only for those who fear it. There are many things to fear in our world, none of them are truly about fear, more about we believe fear to be.

Fear is that heartbeat in the bottom of your throat, the gasping for air in pool and lies we’ve told.

Our fear, our past and our future are nothing but what we make them out to be. They stand by waiting to be called into battle, but there is little we can do until the battle call is heard.

Fear keeps us from fulfilling who we should be, and not who others believe we are.

Fear disrupts, causes chaos and changes our very subtle rhythm in our hearts, There is nothing more controlling about fear, than the pain of fear.

This pain causes things to wear us down. Take our mind from us and causes us to question who we are, or who we want to be.

The fear of our lives is under our control, how we control it determines how we live our lives, or if we live our lives.

We fall through our lives, waiting for the very last, living in fear of that last day.

We should ignore the fear of our last day until it arrives and then only at that moment when our last gasp comes out will we know that our fear of death meant nothing.

Writing Through the Falling Ash

Posted on May 27, 2014 by Brian B Baker

Searching through the files of our lives, they must look like the deleted technology of a long-lost civilization, long burnt down, crashed and falling to ash.

We watch the reel, enjoying the moments of joy and cringe at the moments of self-realization.

Each of these moments have created who we are, the wrinkles, age and that odd grey color in our hair which we swear wasn’t there yesterday.

These moments are unspoiled by time, life and the things we’ve done since.

Through the years of tears, and every one has a year of tears, no one’s life is perfect.

Staying in a reel, we see watch the life we had, and think about the things yet to come. The loves, loss and the disappointment.

There’s nothing more disconcerting than not being able to see these things. Pulling these files from their roster, some collecting dust, others fresh from the other day, none of them are bad, they just are what they are.

Leading our lives through years, days and hours, each new thing we discover is different, but it may feel the same.

We have the same feelings, but different. The same pain without consequence or the laughter without the joke.

There are some of these which lead to our goals and our strength.

Running through the life which never changes, or appears not to things don’t fall away.

These things add caution and fire to what we want. Going through, we see the difference of who we’ve become, what’s fallen away, what our foundation has become and where the ash has fallen.

Writing the each and every

Posted on May 20, 2014 by Brian B Baker

Books Stacked to the ceiling in New Orleans book shop.

The window is cracked, there’s a soft breeze across the desert and the blue skies stand out against a cloudless sky.

I watch my kids run through the room, their clothes catching the breeze, my daughter’s cape flapping, my son’s mask pressed tightly to his face.

My superheroes tear up the house as they chase each other.

Watching I’m reminded of the things I focus on too much, and the things I must focus on more.

We happen to think about our writing, at least as early writers, as horrible.

The reason we think this way is mostly because it is, at least for most of us, I mean we’re not all genius level writers, we have to learn to write well.

The thing about watching my kids play on a daily basis, they do their playing oblivious to the world around them.

This is what new writers usually don’t do.

They don’t write and ignore the world, they may get their writing time in, but they don’t lock themselves away like the more experienced writers.

The wind begins to die down, my kids are preparing for lunch, or dinner, I’m not sure as the day has moved by faster than normal, and in between the hours of my writing schedule; I see their asking for daddy to play.

I skirt away from the desk to play with them, as they beg me to get away from my writing.

I stop them, “I have a few hundred words to go. After I’m done, I promise.” I tell them.

After the hundred words, I set aside the laptop, rush downstairs as they sit on the couch, eager for a trip to the park.

Another sunset comes, we head back to the house, my wife is getting started on dinner, I pitch in, cutting the chicken, as I learned in a meat store in my late teens, and sit down as the I put music on the radio.

It’s one of my favorite days, but it’s still a writing day.

They’re finally asleep, my wife is doing the dishes, I have my laptop out again to get my notes from the day added to my laptop.

I finish and sit with my wife for an hour watching Supernatural.

Brian B Baker, Writer

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