After the Show: From Shedding to Motion
The show is over and the walls are quiet again. This piece lives in the space between, between the Year of the Snake and the coming Year of the Horse.
Read the full essay →Just an Ordinary Tuesday — page 3
Older essays from the archive. Page 3 of 4.
The Power of an Image
Millions filled the streets under one banner. Not for chaos, not for attention, but for truth. A note about the image I made and called Resist.
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Human First: The Middle Still Matters
October 18, 2025 | General | Liberty in the Static, by Mike Baker A Note Before You Read This reflection was written with care, not judgment.
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The Cost of Looking Away
Written with care rather than anger. I sit in the middle, I am not interested in taking sides, and I still think looking away costs us something.
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Seeing Differently: Art Beyond Vision
Art is not what you see, but what you make others see. On Degas, perception, and the moment someone feels something they did not expect to feel.
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Human First
Kellie and I went to St. Thomas for our twenty-sixth anniversary. I thought we were going for rest. What I found was considerably deeper than that.
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The Beer League Goalie Manifesto
Notes from the weirdest position in hockey. Fresh tape, skates sharp for about ten minutes, and a locker room cooler waiting like a holy grail.
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Slop, Soul, and the Reason I Keep Creating
John Oliver was not wrong about AI slop. The internet is flooded with work that looks clean and says nothing. Here is why I keep creating anyway.
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Still Here, Still Leading with Heart
By Mike Baker I’ve always believed that leadership should feel human. Not perfect. Not polished. Just real. I know I don’t always fit the mold.
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Right Here Counts Too
By Mike Baker www.mikebakerhq.com Saturday was full. The morning started with the League of Women Voters. I spoke about healthcare, real healthcare, for women.
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No Kings: Notes From a Middle Seat on a Shaking Train
Notes from a wobbling middle seat on a train racing round a blind curve, and the footage of a child that made me finish a poem and then a song.
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What Fatherhood Really Feels Like
There is a kind of love that does not need applause. It shows up quietly, does the work, and holds steady even when nobody at all is watching.
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Too Much Noise; A Letter from Inside the Record
By Mike Baker This album wasn’t written to chase a sound. It was written to chase connection, something I think all of us are quietly desperate for.
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Weekend Magic on the Ice
The fifth Panhandle Spring Classic in Coeur d'Alene, raising money for the Inland Northwest Girls Hockey Foundation, and what they are building.
Read the full essay →Shaenol: A Memory That Found Its Way Back
No beat, no hook, no melody to hold onto. Just a voice speaking in a language you have never heard before and somehow still manage to recognize.
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What I Carried Home from Washington
Some trips are about meetings and agendas. This one included all of that, and then left a mark I am still carrying home with me in my chest.
Read the full essay →Why I Wrote The Optimist’s Way
A personal note about the November that knocked me off balance, and why I wrote a book about optimism while my own supply was running very low.
Read the full essay →When the World Gets Louder, Get Kinder
People are angrier. Whatever happened to peace and love? A scene from a gritty hospital drama that would not leave me alone for days after.
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The Village of Moms: Celebrating Love in Action
Mother's Day reaches well past a single household. A village raises us, and to mother is to choose to show up fully, again and again and again.
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Penalty Box Confessions:The Soundtrack to the Game That Raised Me
This record came from late-night ice, tired legs, bruised knees, and the silence you sit in between whistles. Not from a studio session.
Read the full essay →I’ll send you the next one
I named this place after the days nobody circles, so I’m not going to pretend a newsletter is an event. It’s just the next ordinary Tuesday, sent to you instead of sitting here waiting to be found. Essays mostly, and now and then something from the books, music, podcast, art, or advocacy work.
I aim for Tuesdays, twice a month or so, and I don’t always make it. Your address stays private, and leaving is always easy.