Fred Aiken Writing

June 9, 2024

Constant Seeker, Occasional Finder

Daily writing prompt

If humans had taglines, what would yours be?

If humans had taglines, mine would probably be “Constant Seeker, Occasional Finder.” Though it kind of sounds like a horrible descriptor for an online dating profile, it also perfectly captures my restless curiosity and the rare, fleeting moments of discovery that interrupt the monotony.

I’m the person who gets lost in Wikipedia rabbit holes, clicking from one article to another until I’ve gone from medieval history to quantum physics. My bookshelf is a testament to this endless quest, filled with everything from philosophy to DIY manuals, all with their spines barely holding on for dear life. I also have way too many books on my wish list. I keep meaning to stop adding new books to it, but then I will discover one, then ten or twenty, new books I want to read, and before you know it, I have thousands of books on a wish list I will probably never have time to fully read through.

I also tend to take on various free online courses on subjects or topics that have nothing to do with my profession, but I always had a tangential curiosity about. I tell myself I’m trying to improve myself, to develop as a person. But the reality is that I’m trying to distract my ADD brain from distracting me from doing something unproductive, like watching 7 hours of Youtube videos about people and things that I could care less about. And yes, I see the irony in distracting my ADD by focusing my time and energy into learning new and different things.

Amid all the seeking, there are those moments when I stumble upon something profound—a new perspective, a solution to a lingering problem, or a piece of art that resonates. These moments are rare, but they make the constant searching worthwhile.

Sometimes, I imagine life as a series of treasure hunts, each day a new map with clues leading to hidden gems. I’m not just living; I’m on a quest, each moment filled with potential discoveries. Whether it’s a new favorite cafe or interesting cup of coffee that has gone through a new processing method (like koji anaerobically processed Colombian coffee was pretty cool), a meaningful conversation, or a sudden epiphany (though they seem to be fewer and far between the older I’ve gotten), these finds add a layer of richness to my otherwise solitary existence.

June 9, 2024

cat food options

there are too many options
of cat food, especially since my cat can’t tell me
what sort of food and flavors she likes,
until i’ve already bought a bag of it 
at a price that seems like highway robbery,
only for my cat to sniff at it curiously,
paw at it like she’s burying it under the hardwood floor,
and then scampers off to go take a nap
on my wife’s computer desk,
where she eagerly waits for my wife
to give her treats because we don’t want our cat to starve,
but i’m afraid that i don’t know the likes and dislikes of my cat,
i think she might secretly resent the fact
that i do a horrible job at shopping for her,
and i think my wife secretly thinks the same thing too

June 8, 2024

Sage Riverview

Daily writing prompt

What are the most important things needed to live a good life?

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Cedric had a reputation in Riverview, a reputation like the fine mist that lingered over the river every morning—always there, always a little mysterious. He was the kind of old man who could be a hundred or just well-worn by time; no one really knew. His cottage sat at the edge of the forest like a forgotten secret, its windows reflecting stories no one had quite pieced together.

Fiona showed up one autumn day, her city clothes out of place among the pine-scented air and cobblestone streets. She had the look of someone running from ghosts—maybe the kind that follow you through crowded streets, whispering all the things you’d rather forget. The townsfolk watched her with a mix of curiosity and the polite indifference that small towns do so well.

“Looking for Cedric,” she said to the barista at the only coffee shop in town. He pointed her toward the forest with a nod, his eyes saying, “Good luck,” in that cryptic small-town way.

The knock on Cedric’s door sounded like an echo of a hundred other knocks, each one seeking something intangible. The door creaked open, revealing Cedric’s face—a landscape of wrinkles and wisdom, eyes sharp and kind.

“You’ve come,” he said, as if he’d been expecting her all along.

Fiona didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “I heard you know the secret to a good life. I need to know it.”

Cedric handed her a list, written in spidery handwriting that seemed as ancient as the man himself: A handful of patience, a dash of kindness, and a pinch of courage. Fiona looked up, questions in her eyes, but Cedric just smiled and gestured for her to start.

The ancient oak in the heart of the forest was her first stop. There, a fox with a coat that shimmered like autumn leaves waited for her. It led her to a pond so still it seemed to hold the secrets of the world.

“Patience,” said the fox, its voice like a whisper on the wind, “is in the stillness. Sit. Listen.”

Fiona sat by the pond, feeling time stretch and bend around her. The water’s surface rippled gently, each wave a silent lesson. Hours slipped by like minutes, and she felt something inside her settle, like a stone sinking softly to the pond’s bed.

In the village square, an old woman struggled with a load too heavy for her frail frame. Fiona, driven by an impulse she didn’t quite understand, took the weight from her. The woman’s gratitude was a warm light in the cool autumn air.

“Kindness,” she said, her voice tinged with wisdom, “is in the giving without asking. You’ve found it already.”

The river’s edge was her final test. Memories of her brother—his laughter, his absence—flooded her mind, almost knocking her off balance. The river was wild, unforgiving, much like the emotions she’d kept dammed up.

With a deep breath, she stepped into the cold water. Each step was a struggle, but she pushed forward, feeling her fears wash away with the current. When she reached the other side, she was shivering but exhilarated. She had discovered her courage.

Back at Cedric’s cottage, she handed over the invisible ingredients. Cedric took her hand, his eyes twinkling with the knowledge she now understood.

“The most important things for a good life,” he said, “are not things at all. They’re inside you.”

Fiona returned to the city, carrying Riverview’s lessons in her heart. Life didn’t get easier, but it became richer, colored by the patience, kindness, and courage she had found. Her story spread, not as a tale of grandeur, but as a quiet reminder of the profound simplicity hidden in everyday moments.

In Riverview, Cedric continued to live as he always had, a keeper of wisdom in a world that often forgot where to look. And somewhere in the city, Fiona lived a life that blossomed, proving that the best secrets are the ones we find within ourselves.