Southern Migration

It's coming. I know it. Winter is pushing its way south and I retreat before it. Our Beet Harvest Job in Montana is done and I've moved as far as Denver.

With a week visiting my Grandbabies near done... the urge to be moving on is strong. Weather is coming later this week but I won't wait on it. Maybe I'll get out ahead of it... maybe have to push through it... But I'll go. The desert and the work I have waiting there this winter is calling.

Work. The world demands its pound of flesh and I am not immune to that so produce I must. My good fortune is, almost blindly, I stumbled into that sort of situation where I get to do, for a living, what is a joy in itself.

Now, I still have a lot of work to do to bring it up to where it needs to be. My writing is not yet fully sufficient or reliable. (income wise) It sits in that tantalizing place of being juuuuust outside those bright lights of prosperity. ;)

For me prosperity is not riches. It's waking up in the morning, owning my life. Having some groceries in the cupboard, a little jingle in my pocket, the lack of crushing debts and the prospect of more of the Work that feeds my soul to keep me going.

I use the word WORK not job. A Job is just shoveling horse poop... WORK is the Art that feeds the spirit. Whether that be painting, writing, architecting, mechanicing, cowboying ... for some, Waitressing does that.

Whatever WORK feeds your soul, you chase that. You hone that craft to the sharpest edge you can put on it.

This winter that honing will be done brushed up out on the Arizona desert. I've a couple of Large Projects planned. Two novels are to be written one to add to each series. They're outlined and just sit waiting my arrival in the sunny south. Camped out amongst the creosote bushes and Paloverde trees... I'll immerse myself in them.

Sunny days, pots of coffee, miles of knees in the wind to clear my thinking when I hit a literary tangle ;) ... and come the spring, a fresh new pair of fabrications of terminological inexactitude from the twisted mind of a cowboy biker to keep the momentum of my publishing empire rolling. 

Keeping it in the Wind
Brian
 

Just Me... the Bike... and the Road

In the dust that surrounds the life of a person trying to reach for something higher... there's a confusion that's been trained in since birth.

Much of the confusion is a diversion that's centered around Things. Those are what is used to focus your attention so that you don't see the world swiping your life.

But, most of the "Things" in this world carry a questionable value. They weigh a man down.

Smartphones, laptops, GPS's, Camera's, Credit Cards, Gizmo's that track every inch of your travels... furniture, crap on the walls, Tools you never use, clothes you never wear. Junk that you pay to store. It lays stored in dusty boxes that haven't been opened in years. Bills, commitments... people pulling, pushing, poking, prodding you to go where you're told... where you don't want to go... cursing and bullying if you refuse... the list itself could fill a saddlebag...

... Things... Yech. The urge to just swing a leg over the saddle and ride off from it... is hard to resist.

On top of that pile of Things... are the people. The two are often inexorably combined. One uses the other as tools of control. One is USED by the system to use and herd the other as a tool of ITS control. It gets kind of tangled... but if you're awake... you can cut through that dust cloud... you can sort it all out and find your way.

But beware and understand... Go in with your eyes open. You won't get through it unmarked. If you choose to make a stand, If you choose to fight against the wind for Your Life... You are triggering a shit storm like none you've ever seen.

My escape from all that storm is my ride. Out there on that ribbon that stretches to the horizon, there's only one soul that can control that motorcycle. The stupid games and deceitful machinations of the morons behind me... fade away. There is just the heat and the rumble under me, the sun on my face and the fresh wind in my nostrils.

I ride for me. Yes... It IS all about me. This isn't "Your" life I'm fighting my way through, it is MINE.

I have no right to judge your life, and I don't, other than to decide if your way suits me. If following your lead is the way I want to go... and I won't tolerate my life being judged in any manner other than that.

I don't put my hands on other people. I don't manipulate, make false promises or intend to deceive. Perfection I am far from. Failure I know often. But when I do fail I own it. I correct it and I work to only make new mistakes, not repeat the old.

I have found that Honor and wisdom do not come from those who have led pristine lives. Those who are most honorable are generally those who failed that ideal some time past, and NEVER want to feel that way again. They don't judge others, only themselves.

But judging is what this world and most of those around you do first thing... isn't it. I don't say that as a question, but as a statement. They judge and then they set about herding you in the direction they "Know" is for your own good. Irrespective of how wrong, arrogant and improper their self serving actions are.

"You Owe Me"... is a deliberately abused epithet thrown like a spear to skewer the heart of a person who still holds to tenets of Honor, Integrity and Respect. It's their best qualities turned on them like a weapon.

I've paid my debts. I owe no one... except for those few, rare friends that have given to me, as I have given to them... with zero thoughts of reward or compensation. To them I owe Honor, Integrity, Respect. They earned it. For the rest... there are no words.

That makes me a selfish bastard to many. So be it. I'll wear that coat. I AM a selfish bastard. Does that make the accusers feel better? Who cares? Those people are incomplete. They are missing critical pieces... by choice.

I choose to put my nose in the wind, let it blow the dust of incomplete snivelers off my leathers... and ride... Just me... the Bike... and the Road.

~ Brian

Running Against the Wind...

Plans... you climb on life and lay it out. You pencil in all the stops and turns, fill the tank, put the key in the ignition... and roll...

... and then reality comes sliding in to T-bone your ass while you were looking the other way.

No one said it would be easy. Easy isn't wanted. No better feeling than to stand up against your fears and fight your way victorious... but the wind can get cold. It can blow too long.

It shouldn't have to be such a devious game. So frequently a wearying struggle.

Sitting in any one place too long is a risk. The ghosts catch up if you stay put too long. You can loose them if you ride far enough, fast enough with enough unplanned turns to confuse them.  But, if you slow down, get lazy, get careless and run straight too far, they figure out your intentions, hone in on your location and soon find you mired in life.

Then you have to fight the fight all over again, beat them off and run for the far country and clear air.

I've found that most people in this life are incomplete. Somehow the world has changed and left the parts that complete a person behind, labeling those parts as useless anachronisms.

They complain about dishonesty, as they cheat the time clock and deceive those around them... they complain about loyalty, as they turn away from a "friend"... because that "friend" had the audacity to NOT follow their direction. They denigrate sacrifice as they curse those who won't give to them. The absence of compassion is broadcasted as they turn their backs on those beaten down . They ridicule those passionately in pursuit of their dreams, because they lack the F'ing spleen to step off in their own pursuit.

"People empty me... I have to get away from them to refill." -unknown

~ Brian

Suspended Animation ~ or ~ Financing My Gypsy Ways

My road wandering ways have gotten arrested for a month or so in Montana.

There's only one real problem with having the gypsy itch deep in your soul. No matter how Free you form up your life... Living ain't free. Simple and true, you have got to have some dollars.

When you pull into the towns for fuel, groceries, fresh jeans, tires and even the occasional wife for a night ;) all those places refuse to engage in charity. They demand dollars for their goods.

Soooo... until I manage to enjoy one of those "Breakouts", with one of my books, that tantalize a writers more mercenary parts... I have to stop and produce some bucks here and there to keep on moving.

This stop is being made in Sydney Montana for the annual beet harvest. A fella has the potential of squeezing out a few thousand in three weeks of work or so... so here I are... until near the end of the month then it's a quick haul to Phoenix for another week of work at the November NASCAR race at PIR (Phoenix International Speedway).

Hopefully, that'll all produce enough dinero to get some maintenance done on the Raider, like new fork seals, a valve adjustment and a new functional part or two for the improvement of long rides...

One thing I can tell you about sugar beets they stink ;) and, take one single walk through a "sugar factory" and you'll never put sugar in your mouth again! A grubbier, uglier place you've never seen than the inside of a sugar factory...

Maybe that'd be a good new diet plan... just take folks on a tour of a sugar plant... and let 'em see where all that gooey goodness that they're stuffing in their faces... came from! ;)

It's back to my skid steer and Piling Beets for me.
Brian