Why?

I am wondering about wondering. Why do I write? Why do I do the things I do? Why do I care so much about strangers? And what is this bloody "I" that I keep referring to? Is it my soul? Is it my body? Is it just a word? Does the power lie in the sentiment behind words or does the power lie in the word? Is this blog only going to be questions? Or is it going to be answers? What fate will this world have? Will we die cataclysmically in 2012? Will Jesus come back? Will the world end with WW3? And if there is a world war three who will fight? "I do not know which weapons WW3 will be fought with but I do know WW4 will be fought with sticks and stones." -Einstein. Why do I like the Violin so much? Why is Deja Entundu my new favorite CD to listen to? Why do tattoos feel so good? Why do I want more? Why do we believe in god? Does God exist just because of mass conscientiousness? Is god dead like Nietzsche said? Is Plato really the best philosopher or am I biased because he is my favorite? What is time? Is it man made or did we interpret scientific principles just so we could have a unit of measurment to run us around? Doesn't our form of time only exist on our planet? Because if I flew to mars I would age six months and you would age 7 years. Should I believe in science or god or both? What is god? What is science? How did the universe really begin? Where is the Nazi's gold hidden? Why did the hippies disappear? Is there another revolution coming? Why do people eat meat? "You can judge a nation on how it treats it's animals" -Gandhi. Why do people wear leather? Why don't people care about others the way that I do? Why am I special? Why am I different? Do you ever take the time to ask questions or do you go about your daily life never asking the most important question of all... Why? Just why. Ask it, try it out. You might like it. I know I do.

A good view of god.

So what’s wrong with the clothes I wear?
I know it’s not the latest in style.
I just figure if I wait around long enough…
Well, you know how everything comes back around.

I don’t pay attention to radios or daily papers.
I don’t even watch the movie shows.
I figure I can skip past politics and weapons un-found…
Well, you know how everything just comes back around.

I could sit here all day watching bush turn into Kennedy,
and wait for the new Martin Luther King.
I could spend a lifetime wishing and wasting feeling.
I could be the nobility that the world so lacks today.
I could be the right in the face of wrong,
and show the world just how much better the world is of a place,
if we just stop
and love.

It’s hard to listen to today’s music and today’s bands.
I should have been born circa 1945 sixty style.
All the music they have today, just looks pretty in magazines in magazine stands.
I figure the soul and art of the song will just come back around.

What’s wrong with this crowd I hang out with?
They’re no different than you or me.
Ya. The men kiss men
and the girls kiss girls
They’re as gay as can be.
My best friends strums her guitar
while I smoke my out my heart,
and contemplate the thinking about thinking about art.
That boy over there is still a virgin,
and never tried drugs,
that man is tripping to the beyond
and everyone’s got their addiction.
We’re all just people.
I figure it all evens out in the end
We’re all just living.
We’re all just trying to find our heaven.


I could sit here waiting for the next Beatles,
or for the next world war three start so we can start world war four,
I could spend a lifetime wishing for another Gandhi
or wanting to meet King, Charles, George or Morrison.
jesus come back oh jesus come back and why don’t you bring your friends
jesus come back oh jesus come back be holding Gandhi’s hand
jesus come back oh jesus come back and be holding Mother Teresa’s hand
oh jesus if your jesus you’d come back today or simply tell us what to believe in
we just don’t know, we just don’t know if earth is earth or is earth hell or is this heaven?
jesus if your jesus you’d tell us what to believe in.




And that’s a good view of god right there

There right God of view good a that’s and.

.ereht thgir God fo weiv doog a s’that dna

And before you know it you’ll be pushing up daisies,
The bees will carry off your scent,
To where a bear licks your honey yellow glow.
Well, before you know it you’re the wind in the trees,
The laugh of a baby and the cardboard home in an alley,
You’re the gum on the subway pole, and you’re the smile
of a dying war.
Before you know it you’re the shot in the gun, the Erie calm after
and the scream before that.
You’re the hate in the war, the anger in the commander,
and you’re the guilt in the soldier, knowing what he’s done is wrong.
You’re the struggle between, the fight of what is justice and where it’s been.
Your time suspended, You’re the humming birds wings,
You’re the coolness in the grass blades that people love,
You’re the leaves that make the wind sing,
and all that in between, oh, when it’s just right.
You’re the strum of a guitar, the soul of the words, the nail in the coffin,
the bluebird.
The Antichrist, the Savior, the savant and the politician,
you’re the hole that they’ve dug us in
you’re the guilt and you’re the sin on their carry’s on their lips,
You’re the repression and you’re the breaking free of the light that’s in them.
You’re the people that smile and you’re the laugh in Dionysus’ wine,
You’re also the feeling in those moments where they let go of time.
You’re the hunger of a child, the pain of the mother,
and the food that helps them live just a little longer.
You’re the person feeding them, you’re the growing tree…
Your everything there ever is and everything there ever was,
Everything everything everything,
that ever will be.
You’re the planet.
The world.
The people.
You’re hate and your love.

That’s….
a good view of god right there.


J. G. Gabriel
Copyright 2010

Choices

Life is full of choices, but you already know that. There are so many minute changes in life that you barely even notice unless you are paying attention to them. Say there are a million choices in your life that are important, then there are a quadrillion ways your life can end up if you look at it from begging to end, which obviously is an extreme underestimate of possibilities.
So how do we make the right choices? How do we choose all the right things so that at the end of our life we can look back and be happy? The answer is that you cannot and also that you can. This is why we make mistakes.
As iconic and respected man, Oscar Wilde once said “Experience is simply the name we give to our mistakes.” So all those choices that you make, sometimes you later regret and sometimes you don’t, they are experiences. After all isn’t that what we do in life is gain experience? The other answer, that you can, is all dependent upon making the right choices by following your instinct, intuition and heart. Let your mind do the thinking, but let it interpret what is coming from deep inside. Do not make important decisions with your mind, but rather from the answers you already hold within you.
In our search for answers to all of our questions and choices that meddle in the affairs of our life making it more complicated and in the things that we toil over, we complete a journey that is called life. Everything that is important is the journey; it all lies in that one word.
“All of life is a journey which paths we take, what we look back on, and what we look forward to is up to us. We determine our destination, what kind of road we will take to get there, and how happy we are when we get there.” –unknown


With Love,
Jacob Grant Gabriel

Monumental

Some monumental things have happened lately. First, I finished a full novel at about 80,000 words in just a month and a half. It is fully edited and just needs to be proofread before it goes to the publishers.

Second, I have edited my second novel and am now taking a break from novels to focus on compiling my book of poetry, which once past 50,000 words will be my fifth novel to date.

Third, I have been inspired to write another novel called Prince De Muerto and have a full synopsis and timeline written. After I will work on a previous started novel called The Wildflower and the Wallflower

Writing has become more than a hobby to me, it has become and unstoppable force that is my passion. It consumes me and burns inside of me. Even when I work and go to school I will gladly forgo sleep, and often do, to write or edit my works.

Fourth, I have my first serious boyfriend since over 3 years ago. I am very picky so that in and of itself is monumental.

Fifth, I have been completely sober from alcohol and drugs for six months now, sans New Years and my birthday.

And finally sixth, in about two weeks I will proudly be able to claim that I have achieved most if not all my goals that I set out to do in one year, all done in three months. Now to keep it up for a year and beyond will be the hard part and is the task at hand. (The goals I will report on later are: Financially supporting myself, and everything to do with school since I will not be attending until fall.)

The remaining goal is to have all 8 of my books done by the time I am 25 which leaves me 10 months. If I can do two novels in three then I certainly should be able to finish all of them.

Wish me luck! Oh and wish me luck on my last goal on my initial list...quitting smoking. May god help me. ha-ha.

Much love
Jacob Gabriel

Compass Looking Backwards

Compass looking backwards.

I’m in search of the perfect moment,
In search of that thing called bliss
I’m in search of this thing that so many people refer to
As
Happiness.

I love the insane, love in innate, I love love and the pulsating beat…
Of the off beaten. the road less traveled path
I love dreams where in ourselves is where we find
The answer we are searching for
I repeat, in kind,
That I also wonder what it is like to be
…normal.
I wonder what it’s like to be
…famous
It doesn’t come naturally,
Your version of normalcy,
I don’t think like you do,
This ease of which you choose your life with
It just doesn’t come naturally to me
Because the world isn’t just black and white,
By thinking a different way,
You can change your destiny.

I am happy
I am happy now
I feel happy
I really am happy with my choice
But I dreamed I saw the world Technicolor
Seven thirteen beyond what you see
In the color spectrum of the rainbow.
I saw, see, once did see the world
And josephs coat
I dreamed in livid, vivid Technicolor
Whilst my eyes were still open.
Whilst I was still awake.

So I ask what do I do from here?
Form this place that I don’t even know where I am?
There is no longitude or latitude that I could give you that says
That where I’m standing is right here.
…Where I am located.
I am in the moment
And right now the moment here
Right now the moment is now
I will find my way.
I will find my answers someday
And I’m gonna find them magnetically .

-Jacob Grant Gabriel

Copyright 2010

Another short story from "Love Letters"

Stranger


Dear stranger,

We are all woven into this intricate tapestry called life. We are a speeding train that runs along a million tracks and has billions of possible track changes every millisecond. We careen thru life so fast that if we put our hand out the window we would just barely be able to brush the leaves outside the window as the wind blows our arms back with such a force that we must be persistent. We press anyway... just to touch, for a moment, the passing trees.

There is something beautiful about being awake all night when the entire world seems asleep. You can look out your window and know that everyone else is off in another place, dreaming away the darkness. You are there looking into the cold, dark night softly and dimly lit by the moon, hearing the sound of silence and smiling because it's just so serene.
Slowly the silence faded into the morning, just as outside turned from dark to a dark shade of blue, the sun seemingly trapped behind the mountains. Then in an instant there is a light, brilliant orange-yellow-pink glow on the horizon and you know it's time to start another day. It is a miracle that I get to live another day and I realize this and it makes me smile. I hear a few birds chirping, but not many since it is the dead of winter.
It was early morning, so early you could smell the dew on everything that was green outside. The sun had just lifted above the mountains making the sky that brilliant pink. Now the birds seemed to be out in full force filling the soft cold air with a melodic comforting wake up call. If I hadn't accidentally over caffeinated myself before bed last night and not been able to sleep, I wouldn't have ended up, productively, spending the night awake. I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the night, and see the miraculous sunrise or hear the birds’ song.
So, I had been looking at my window waiting for the sun to come up to go and get some drinking water from the artesian well, because I drank my last glass last night. I drove there and filled up all my jugs and started on my way home. I just so happened to take a serendipitous wrong turn and had to take an odd way home, but I figured I’d just enjoy the ride.
On the way I saw an elderly lady waiting at a bus stop, cold and with her arms tucked tight around her. At first, in passing I thought she was Muslim because she had a scarf over her head... but it turned out to be a scarf and not a hajab. I, being the random, pick up strangers type swung my car around and rolled down my passenger window to offer her a ride.
“Would you like a ride?” I asked gently, letting her know I am a normal person she can safely get in the car with.
"Where are you going?" She asked politely and in what I guessed sounded like a German accent, toned down by living in America.
"Wherever you are." I replied smiling
"I'm just going to 17th south"
"Then so am I! Hop in!" I reached over and opened her door.
She was so pretty with her hair so blonde it was almost white, elegant features and she was elderly and gentle. Her accent soothed me as we drove and spoke.
It turned out that she didn't know if she had missed the bus or not because it was supposed to come at ten after eight but it came at two after instead. So, she didn't know if her bus was early or if the bus in front of her was running late. Turns out she would have had to wait another forty minutes, in the cold, for another bus to take her where she needed to go. Either that or walk fifteen blocks in the frosty, frigid morning.
Turns out she is from Norway. Turns out my heritage and my ancestors’ home town and where her home town is in Norway and only a couple miles apart. She didn't know my family... there are a lot of Krisjaansaans or "Christiansons." She had figured out I was Norwegian and asked, because we had the same cheekbones and eye color.
It also turned out that I picked up a lady that volunteers because she would rather do that than work. She feels like she is doing more here in America if she volunteers at least as much as she works.

Before she got out of the car she took her glove off to shake my hand and say thank you. It was the perfect moment because of the way she pulled her hand out by grabbing the top of each gloved finger and sliding the perfectly eggshell white, knit glove off her elderly wrinkled fingers.
She got out of the car and was genuinely thankful for the ride. I was thankful for the smile she put on my face.
So which one of us did the good deed? Which one of us really spread love of a stranger? Was it her starting my day off with a smile, or me giving her the heat of my car and putting a smile on her face?
The world is a beautiful and intricate tapestry. It is and adventure with everything, ups, downs, goods, the bad. It unfolds perfectly according to the grand cosmic design of the universe. A single act of kindness received or given can ripple outward infinitely on the cosmic pond that touches all time; the past, the present and the future.
Your stranger,
Evan

-Jacob Grant Gabriel
Excerpt from the novella "Love Letters"
Copyright 2010

Violin in the Metro

Dear violinist,

I was three years old when I first heard a violin and it was you. My mother told me this story and I had to write it down.
It was at a metro station in Washington DC. It was a cold January morning and you played six bach pieces for about 45 minutes. I stood staring at you in amazement, wondering why you played here and why your case was there, open in front of you.
It was rush hour and during those forty five minutes I figure that thousands of people went thru that station, most on their way to work.
My mother and I were walking to the park, that’s when I stopped to watch you. I stood right in front of you as person after person passed you. She said that in the first few minutes a middle aged man passed and noticed a musician, his pace slowed, but only for a few seconds and then he hurried his pace to meet his schedule. Without stopping a lady threw in a dollar or two and kept walking, she didn’t even glance up; it seemed a force of habit my mother said. Maybe she appreciated the music and what you were doing but didn’t have time. Another man leaned against the wall for a few minutes to listen, perhaps another appreciator, but he was clearly late for work and rushed off.
My mother stood at a distance from me, seeing me look up at you and your bow moving so fast and elegantly. Me, watching open mouthed and wide eyed. She left me there for the entire forty five minutes you played. Another child stopped and stared, but his mother pushed him hard and made him continue on his way. This action of stopping to watch was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on. Mine knew better and could tell something magical was happening, that I saw the music in the air and listened with my heart and she let me experience the magic of the violin for my very first time, uninterrupted.
When you stopped playing you had collected about thirty two dollars and silence filled the metro or what seemed like silence since it was now just meaningless noise. Nobody noticed, nobody applauded, nor was there any recognition of any kind besides leaving me in awe and wonder.

At this age now, which is sixteen, I wonder about this story all the time. I now play the violin and am first chair in my class. I get challenged all the time, but I never get beaten. I don’t play for that reason though, I play because I still see the music in the air, and I still see the beauty and feel the vibrations all the way into my soul. I’ve been playing since the day after I saw you. That is when my mother bought me my first violin and lessons.
I wonder why I was the only one that really stopped and listened. I thought about the human race and wondered why don’t people stop to appreciate beauty? Do they perceive beauty? Why didn’t they stop and recognize the talent in an unexpected context. The only possible conclusion I can come to is that if we do not have a moment to stop and listen to a musician playing in a downtown metro station playing the best music ever written on an almost priceless instrument, if we cannot stop for one moment to appreciate beauty, how many other things are we missing?

Thank you,
Jaren

Written by Jacob Grant Gabriel 2010
Excerpt from the novella "Love Letters"
Copyright 2010

I can remember names but never faces because it's always raining.

I decided to walk to the gas station last night, mostly because I had eaten a burrito and wanted to burn some of it off. It was a regular trip, a walk I have taken a hundred times. The thing was that when I got there, there was this older gentleman, short, layers on a baseball cap and big glasses. He was smiling and talking to the teller while holding on to his 12 pack of beer. He asked me my name and I said Jake, he replied Billy, "Billy Carr. Now you're either a musician or a a gigelo."
"Oh, it's one or the other?" I replied
"Has to be." He said
"Well I can play the drums and a little piano, but mostly I'm a writer and an abstract painter."
"Ooooohkay, so you're an artist, that makes more sense." He replied, this was the second time today that I had been asked if I was an artist.

We ended up leaving at the same time and walking the same way, we took our time, talked and laughed. He was one of the funniest older gentlemen I've ever met. When we got to the corner to split, as with any older person it's hard to find an out with the conversation. Enjoy this moment, Jake, I thought. And! I was right, turns out he is an old Jazz musician who has played with such legendary people as the Allman Brothers and I almost passed out when he said he is personal friends with Bonnie Raitt. Just goes to show, be nice to strangers and you never know who you will meet.

The point of this story is one of many stories he told me that stuck with me. An old man was sitting on a park bench while Billie was out practicing his photography. The old man looked depressed, sad and distraught, so Billie went over and sat next to him. "Sir," he said, "is there anything I can do for you?"
"Well," the man paused, "I just lost my wife."
"Oh, my condolences, I can relate. I just lost my wife in 2001"
"oh no!" The man looked up. "She is just down the street shopping, I have no idea where the hell she is, so I'm just sitting here on this bench waiting!"

The moral of the story was that, whatever you lose it's just down the street shopping and it will be back. If you should lose your faith, wait and hope and it will come back to you. If you lose love, in some way it will come back to you.

Jake Grant Gabriel


Questions? Comments? Email me at Hippie2012blogspot@hotmail.com

Get to know Jake in 25 ways!

Get to know Jake in 25 different ways.

1. I believe in love above all things. After love I believe in Truth and Freedom.

2. Change is the only thing you can count on in this life. Once I accepted that my life has become a breeze.

3. I've written four novels, none of which. I can seem to go back thru and finish it all up and make it nice and flowing. Someday... alas... someday. I am currently working on my fifth.

4. Bob Dylan and Gandhi are two of my Idols...

5. My belief in the good in people and humanity is what makes me wake up every morning and the reason I stay in society and don't move into the wilderness. The world gets to me and I would love to go live in the beauty of nature but then I look around and I see the same universal energy in people and this world around me and it makes me happy.

6. All I want to do with my life is be there for others. I think there is no higher purpose.

7. This is my favorite quote "There is beauty is pathless woods, there is rapture on a lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea and the music in it's roar. I love man not the less, but nature more" H.D.T

8. I have a huge family all of whom I love deeply. My friends mean the world to me and I couldn't ask for better ones.

9. There.. is something so deep inside of me that I almost can't handle it. I want to stand up and speak, for words hold more power than any weapon, to huge crowds and try to help this world progress. I want to be like Gandhi or MLK. I want to stop racism and homophobia. I want to destroy religions and from their rubble build.. then back up with just the good things about them, hope, love and faith. It's not that I want to be famous or an icon but I would gladly take the bullet that they took if I got to say something that mattered, something that helped change the world.

10. I realize that anyone CAN change the world just by smiling at a stranger.

11. My life isn't my own, for I will love someone someday with so much of my heart it almost hurts. It belongs to him, and if he really is the one for me, him and I will give our combined love to humanity.

12. I'm one of the three percent that overcame a drug addiction.

13. I despise wealth

14. I am a Tolstoyian.

15. Angel from Montgomery.. is currently my favorite song.

16. I love Kate and her adorable Kids.

17. I want to move to Seattle or Oregon for my masters degree. I love the rain and the culture. Then I will come back to my family and watch my nieces and nephews grow up.

18. I only paint abstractly and I only write in the flow of conscientious

19. I love the French, The French culture and I think it is the most beautiful language. I read poetry in French with no idea what it means, but it is beautiful.

20. I have been a vegetarian for 12 years. I am 24

21. That is also when I left the LDS church.

22. I am an open book and believe in a strict moral code. The main no's on my list 1. Intoxication causing heedlessness. 2. Taking what is not yours... 3. Sexual misconduct 4. False speech and the main main main one is 5. Harming ANY living being.

23. I truly believe that a Utopia is possible. I wish I could say that I wish my life would be long enough to see it happen (haha I would.. be so old) But, to be honest I'd rather be one of the people that helped found it and all that takes is to believe in love and emanate it.

24. For how whimsical I live my life I think it is funny. I have the same routine every morning. Wake up, make a cup of tea, smoke a cigarette, work out, and spend the rest of my day writing, looking for work or simply taking it easy, work out again, drink some chamomile and go to bed.

25. My favorite book is Jonathan Livingston.. Seagull. Movie: Into the wild Food: Vegetarian Sushi. Animal: My best friend, my dog, Tuckett. Thing about the world: I get my faith in humanity re-affirmed almost daily by a stranger or a friend. Random: I love talking to homeless people and giving them whatever I have. Also, I do love High School Musical. Favorite favorite thing..... I bet you can guess.....

It's Love.

Jake Grant Rainforest Gabriel


Questions? Comments? Email me at Hippie2012blogspot@hotmail.com

American cultural values that underlie both the cause and treatment of homelessness.

Specific American cultural values that underlie both the cause and treatment of homelessness in the United States are hard to identify right away. I think it is a collaboration of societal thinking as a whole. (I am choosing to leave poverty and drugs out of this essay)

In one aspect of that, it is simply put that most of society disregards that it is a problem, or even an existing condition. Basically they are denying that fellow human beings do not live the same way they do, or perhaps accepting this and pushing it far into their peripheral vision as possible. This is because they are wrapped up on their lower or upper middle-class, or even upper-class “Society.” They live as a part of society as they view it and homelessness as a different part of society, one that is easily ignored because it may be widely believed that the charitable, church and the selfless will take care of it. Also, it is easier for them to live their lives pretending this situation doesn’t exist. The Specific cultural value I would pin-point right there is “tunnel vision” or turning a blind eye in regards to a mainstream selfishness.

Another aspect of this, and where I get this opinion from is that I have spent a lot of time talking with homeless people in Utah and traveling thru Utah. I have made several homeless friends and when fate sees fit it guides us into running into each other every couple months or so. They are happy the way they live their life and don’t want to follow our governmental societal structure. So in that case they are idealists, some radical, some not. However, there is the section of homeless people I meet that seem to be a little different, with a different view on government and society that most and even I would call a little crazy. It does not demean them as a human being though.

The latter of the two described above are the ones that need our help and reformed governmental programs to assist better and acclimate them to society whether it be jobs, living quarters or even basic mental health care, in-patient or out-patient.



I have spent the night alone, on the streets before. In my young age life was too much for me to handle at the moment and I needed the open air and silence of solitude to think. When sunset came I ventured from the streets and up to a small hiking area in Provo, with the fleeting sunlight I found my way off the beaten path, and up. There was a small plateau in which I chose to sleep that night, and actually the next night as well. It was there where I fell in love with the solitude in nature.

I have thought about leaving society many, many times before and becoming a gypsy. If not for my dog, who is dependent on me there are times where I have come very close to doing just such a thing. It has actually come to help me accept staying part of society (College, house, kids, mortgage, insurance…) knowing that I have an out if I ever decide to go down the road less traveled. I also feel the increasing pressure because the window for me to do such a thing is slowly but steadily closing.

Technically I would be considered homeless, but would I really be homeless or would I be joining a culture of Gypsies, hippies, rubber tramps, leather tramps a vagabonds… where the open road and the open air is my home? I can almost smell the fresh mountain air. I can almost feel the freedom that comes along with such a journey, such a miraculous life I could lead traveling, learning, meeting new people and marveling at the simple beauty of this world in the larger and even the most minuscule things. I would stay at Zen Centers, and hippie communes along the way finding small miracles in people and places and reveling in the pure beauty of the earth.

So in that aspect is anybody really homeless? It’s all a take on how each person views the world, what culture they associate themselves with, what life they are trying to lead, if they are homeless because of poverty, drugs of by choice, if they are happy or if they need a helping hand. It is up to the people I mentioned earlier in this essay to break the cultural lines we have created between the ones with homes and the ones without, show a little selflessness and talk to those who ask for money for a bus ride. Who knows, they might actually be trying to get to someplace that they can call home.



-Jacob Grant Gabriel
Copyright 2010

Questions? Comments? Email me at Hippie2012blogspot@hotmail.com