Diary 70 (I live for you)

I am an artist that once played football, but I was an artist first.

We all were.

Art cannot be art unless it demands remembrance. Unless a thing can create a memory it is not art, but a thing. Even in the instance that a thing is remembered, the painting, the food, the song, the words, whatever it is someone makes is still not the art, but the fact that it was remembered. Without you, art is not real, and without others your art can never be born. Your art is you, but not for you.

Leave beautiful memories and you have left glorious art, and of this we are all capable, but only when we make art for others. The things made only for the artist’s pleasure will be forgotten and die when they do, and once the last memory of that person fades, then they never even existed. But immortality is being remembered, and in remembrance you can still work to inspire beyond the veil of death.

That is art. That is legacy. And that is what we all are capable of. To work so hard that even when we are gone our work still works.

People make things, but artists make art. People are able to call the things they make true, but artists have the ability to make things that are true. We all are artists, wrapped in suits of flesh that vary in size, shape, gender and color. Even the way we are assorted as a species is how a painting is created. A painting is simply various shapes, sizes, colors, and materials that together create something worthy of remembrance. A painting that only consists of one shape, size, color, and material it simply a thing, and Art is the difference.

“Human” is our species, and what we are but that is not who we are, we are more than that. We are art, and we are artists. Simply being human makes you no better than a rock. Rocks exist and so do you. But strive to be an artist that leaves art, and you are a diamond. It is not what you do, or who you are that is valuable, it is if those things are remembered.

It’s approaching a year since I’ve been away from the game of football, and I have grown more in this year than I have my entire life. I think that’s because I stopped focusing on growing my own life, and simply to grow life.

An ego is a dangerous thing when left untamed.

Football created my ego, and Art has tamed it. Football made me competitive so now I competitively work to tame my ego while learning how to do so from my art. Tame your ego and whatever you touch becomes art, because it is done for others to remember you by. The quickest way to sabotage your destiny is to pack your ego along for the journey.

Right now I’m on a jet headed to Dallas to have an art show and wouldn’t want to be any other place in the universe. But 5 years ago I would have wanted to be a pro bowl NFL player, and if you would have put both on a scale and asked me to choose one my ego would have not picked Art.

As I was flying out of Latrobe PA where I took part in three NFL training camps with the Steelers I couldn’t help but smile. It was fitting because the most glorious thing that has ever happened to me was my plan being altered in the form of an injury when I tore my ACL. It was the last play of the last practice before my first NFL game. As I was being carted off the field I made a decision instead of a plan, because there is a big difference between decisions and plans. You can make decisions to formulate a plan, but it’s a dangerous thing to start with the plan and negate decisions. My decision was to force a metamorphosis of my adversity, and allow it to become something beautiful even if I didn’t know what it would transform into at the time. Decisions make time irrelevant while plans are bound by time. Time is not meant to enslave people to their plans, but motivate and push people to make correct decisions so they don’t have to plan life out and can live it. You do not have to be bound by time if your decisions are pure. Egos make plans, but art is a decision.

As I flew over Saint Vincent I looked down over my past, present, and future. Because in one perfect magical moment when I shredded my ACL, everything I would become, became and because of that injury Art found me. When I was a kid all I wanted to be was an artist. I’m thankful art chased me down in Latrobe and tore my ACL.

So don’t praise my paintings or my words or anything else I make for that matter. Praise what adversity can do for a man. My life has been full of it, and through it I am able to leave an existence that matters. Be encouraged if your life is not normal, it means that you are equipped to never have to live a normal one. People who live normal lives typically wish for an unusual one, but if your life is already unusual do not wish for a normal life, simply strive to make pure decisions.

Love adversity, and make good decisions because that is what the staircase to forever consists of.

I look at things a lot differently now. I’ve realized that my goals were never goals but Gods. They were the pinnacles of achievement that motivated me with the idea of being able to say I ‘made’ it. Ironically now I would rather help someone else reach their destiny, because if I can do that their destiny is also mine.

Art has showed me there is no pinnacle to anything, only improvement. Competition is not the ability to become a certain thing with a title. Competition is the skill of becoming simply to become more.

Set a pinnacle and you are a slave to it. Walk the steps and you are boundless.

I want to be boundless.

So my goal is not to reach anything, my goal is to walk the steps that lead up, and that go on forever. There is no pinnacle for me. Where you die on the steps, is where you die on the steps, and it is your final say in how you lived life. Setting goals without the ability to make pure decisions is like worshipping a God that is as lazy as you are, because that’s exactly what you’ve created.

We are not meant to worship a pinnacle, we are meant to walk steps. Art taught me this.

I think the greatest responsibility an artist has is to use their time in silence to sit, think, learn and then share what they learn. Because that is art.

My paintings need me to make them, but my art needs you to remember them. Because of this I’ve learned the greatest power is serving those that will remember you. I am the product of other people’s art, and my art is you. Everything I learn I want you to know, everything I make I want you to see, and everything I become I want you to remember. My name is Baron Batch and I used to play football for your enjoyment, but I was an artist first.

Now I am boundless and my life is yours to enjoy.

I live for you.

 

Baron

Posted 1 month ago

 

(Diary 69) A Profession is calling

Failure and losing are not the same. Fear is found in the ability to lose, and because of this Men are always hesitant to start, even when they know their current state can only be improved upon. Men fear what they are unsure of. Because without starting losing does not exist and the dead heart cannot be broken. Because of this a man would rather sit in shackles with a dead heart, while in his mind exists the thought to simply get up and leave.

But with his first step comes uncertainty.

With the first step also comes the ability to fall.

Failure is proof that we are in motion. What we learn from failing dictates what direction the motion moves.

Failure always cause some form pain or discomfort if you were committed to what you failed.

Being committed to what you fail allows failure to be one of the most powerful things our species has. It allows a man to see that it wasn’t the thing that failed him, but he that failed the thing. Because he didn’t reach the goal, didn’t lessen the goal. The goal is still spotless and perfect, but he simply failed to touch it. Not the other way around.

It is easy to blame the goal for failing us, when that goal is our elder.

A doctor’s ability to heal. An artists to create. A musician to play music, a chef to cook and provide.

Those are a few of many Professions, and because of professions we have goals.

We name the Profession with a title, but the nature of a Profession is much older than both. And the nature of a Professions is what beckons a man to chase, so for every job title that is created there will always be a man to fill it that is groomed perfectly. But the moment a man stops chasing the nature of a Profession and instead the title of it, a Profession is no longer welcome, and a Job is born.

Man was created and employed by Profession, and was never meant to chase a job, but simply know his Profession, because this is what called him to do his job, but more importantly to know it.

Jobs do not control the power to call a man to risk it all and possibly fail. Only a Profession does. A job can tell a man it can pay him more money so that he can use the money to feed his family, but a Profession simply tells the man he is to feed his family, because money truly does nothing for a Profession, only the employee. Because of this the Profession is made to be older than currency. So a purpose will always supersede a job.

Failure is a clear sign you have what it takes to succeed. By staking your attack at freedom and going to battle, you have what it takes. By truly and deeply committing to something and failing it, you are reminded that your heart was involved.

Because you failed, you can succeed. Your heart is not dead, and while it hurts it is reminding you of something.

It is reminding you that your profession is calling.

 

Posted 2 months ago

 

(Diary 68) The Thinking Cap

The most selfless thing a person can do for another is to remove his or her own ego in order to allow an individual to think and decide upon a truth. 

In a dark forest a soldier frantically swings his sword at the blackness in self-defense.  Because of the uncomfortable feeling of what he cannot see he creates an invisible enemy.

In the midst of his uncertainty, the soldier creates fear. Because the soldier knows the military advantage of having visual superiority. He knows how dangerous it is to be at the mercy of someone else’s superior vision, only because he knows what he too is capable of, but more importantly what he would be thinking in the position of strategic advantage.

The soldier’s nature makes him powerful, but he fears his nature, so he creates an enemy.

He cannot see anything around him. In the deep black that engulfs him he can only hear one other thing besides his frantic heavy breathing. His ears twitch with fearful panic. Detecting every movement he crouches in defense.

With every thought of what he is capable of doing for survival his invisible enemy grows closer.

His nature makes him powerful, his power makes him fearful, and his fear creates his enemy.

His enemy is now real. It is breathing and has hands and feet. It is willing to kill to survive.

It too is fearful, but only of the soldier because it is his offspring.

Elders are made to be respected in reverence. Because out of their existence ours is validated, and from their knowledge ours is tested, because they came before us.

Like a child respects their parents, our fear bows in reverence to us because we are its originator.

In the dark forest sweat drips from the soldiers brow. He jumps and lashes out at the darkness when he hears a sound.

An owl hoots two words through the dark.

Thinking cap, thinking cap, thinking cap, hoots the owl. But those words are foreign to the soldier; he has never heard them before.

He does not know what the owl is telling him.

Thinking cap, the owl hoots louder. “Thinking cap!”

Seeing that the soldier can’t understand him, the owl flies down from his lofty perch. Into the darkness the owl flies. He realizes his words don’t matter without the soldier so he comes down.

The owl is made to watch over the soldier; his job is to direct him not to his sword but to his helmet, a helmet that the soldier took off because he did not see any other enemies, he was his only company.

But the helmet was never meant to defend the soldier from being attacked by the creatures in the dark; the helmets purpose was to protect the soldier from himself.

Once he lost his mind, he found his nature.

The owl circles around the fearful soldier hooting the only two words that the soldier has never heard.

Thinking cap.

The owl is persistent because he sees the current state of the soldier based upon his lack of equipment, and his only purpose is to guide. The owl can see his lost helmet. He sees that while fighting his fear the soldier is blinded.

For the soldier to stop fighting his invisible enemy he must realize that he is at war with himself, and to see this he must have on his thinking cap.

The owl knows that the soldier defeating the enemy is all that matters, because that is the only way the soldier can ever truly live without fear, to conquer himself.

So the owl comes down.

It perches on the top of the soldier’s helmet. Atop the thinking cap he sits.

And then he hoots, knowing what is coming to him. He knows that death is on the way. And with a swift blow the owl is dead.

The soldier’s sword strikes his own helmet, sending a reverberation through his hands and as if awoken from death itself he is able to see clearly, He quickly puts his helmet back on and the darkness is lifted. Then he takes his first breath as a free man, able to leave his sword and pick up his helmet, a helmet simply to protect him from himself.

As he stares down at the tiny dead owl he feels a surge of power. He feels strong. He feels bold and he feels courageous. He does not weep for the owl. He rejoices for it. He falls to his knees and says thank you, but not because the owl had simply given his life, but because the owl died for the truth.

And because of the Truth, the soldier was freed.

Blessings,

Baron

 

Posted 3 months ago

 

(Diary 67) The Beauty of Ignorance

Why are we so quick to silence the ignorant?

In all reality, a democracy needs them. Being offended can set in so quickly sometimes that many of us miss the amazing learning opportunity from the ignorant.

Before wisdom can thrive, ignorance is required.

No one starts off being wise. A democracy is built on the intelligence of the people, so ignorance is the most proper judge of the current state of one.

Ignorance is not lack of intelligence, it is being misinformed. Honestly some of the most intelligent people I have ever met have been ignorant.

So who validates what is intelligent? That particular individual does.  Who validates what is ignorant? The majority does.

So to an ignorant man, it is he who is intelligent, and the world around him ignorant. And any man who makes up their mind on their own is an intelligent one. What he makes his mind up on makes him good or evil. Both are necessary for growth of a democracy. Once the ignorant are silenced the entire world goes quiet, because we are all of the same nature.

We all are broken. We all have judged prematurely. We all have looked at someone who is homeless and attributed that individual’s situation to work ethic or lack of ambition, or seen an obese person and done the same. How is that any different than a man who sees someone’s skin color and casts judgment?

So should we all be silenced?

The only way to become wise is to hear, appreciate, and learn from ignorance, not to silence it. By silencing what we deem as ignorant, we immediately limit our own wisdom.

The ignorant are necessary, and are a proper judge of the current state of a democracy. Silence is a shadow that we all will wither and die under.

Free speech is necessary.

To silence the voice of the ignorant is to lethally inject the democracy. There will always be ignorant people in this planet. Always.

Honestly if we weren’t taught better all of us would be racists, bigots, thieves, murderers and anything else our nature cultivates.

Our world is a petri dish for what we allow our souls to grow, and what is nurtured quickly becomes reality.

Without the interjection of wisdom, human nature is the most dangerous drug one can indulge in.

Ignorance is a human condition, not a political one. Why do we preach tolerance while living in opposition? There can never be progress, until people standing in the face of ignorance accept their fellow broken ones, and disagree respectfully without returning ignorance with ignorance of their own.

Truth be told, we all suck. A whole lot.

Instead of trying to fix everybody else around me I’ve realized that by fixing myself first, I can begin to help others fix themselves. I respect those who stand and say, “yes I’m racist.” Do I agree?

No.

But I would rather hang out with one hundred outspoken racists than a thousand who conceal it. I would rather dance with snakes than tango with chameleons. Snakes attract snakes. And chameleons attract chameleons.  The bad end up with the bad, but the camouflaged cause the most havoc because these creatures walk between both intelligence and ignorance, casting a shadow over truth. They are the most dangerous because they will change into whatever form best fits their chances of survival. But a snake is a snake, and a snake will die a snake.

A snake will not change color.

So I respect the snakes, and avoid the chameleons.

That’s why tolerance is important. Not so that the intelligent or the ignorant can prevail, but simply to allow people to know a truth that they decide upon and improve upon their flawed condition.

Good and evil are very real, and both a necessity. And the truth is, we are all the same. We are all flawed. We are all broken. My goal isn’t to silence an ignorant man; my goal is to change his mind, not by words but by actions. Not by fixing him, but by fixing myself.

Blessings,

 

Baron

Posted 3 months ago