On The Fly

In this episode, Pushing the Pause Button: Stepping Off the Treadmill Hello, friends — If you're reading this, I'm already off the grid. Today begins a much-needed vacation, and for the next few weeks, On the Fly is taking a break right along with me. For a long time, my inner voice has said, 'Keep every commitment, no matter what.' That's meant early mornings, long days, and a calendar packed with posts, podcasts, and projects I couldn't seem to say no to. I've been trying to be the tireless workhorse—but that kind of grind doesn't end well. Lately, I've noticed I'm not quite myself—shorter fuse, louder sighs, and a few too many grumbles (Lori deserves a medal). That's when you know it's time to hit pause before the spark burns out. So, I'm stepping back to rest, recharge, and remember what it feels like to not live by the next deadline: no tech, no to-do lists, just some space to breathe. Thank you, truly, for all your support and ...

In this episode.  Your Seat, Your Sound, Your Sky: The Future of Flying Is Personal "The call to stillness comes quietly; the modern world does not." When was the last time you visited an airport? What did you notice around you? What sounds did you hear? There's quite a bit of hustle and bustle, along with the loud noises of jet engines roaring. It's always an energetic and lively place! A recent flight from San Diego to Peoria, Illinois, shows just how much personal air travel has changed—maybe soon you'll be enjoying wine even on an economy ticket, along with free pretzels or perhaps a delicious Stroopwafel. Not long ago, that trip was a test of endurance. The inconvenience of boarding, the juggling of excessive luggage, the indifference of most passengers toward the crew, and an overhead screen playing a movie obviously selected by annoyed attorneys. The audio crackled through fragile, communal headphones. The only sound was the roar of the engines. Fast-forwar...

In this episode,  The Friday Morning Pause: When My Brother’s Bookshelf Called Me to Stillness We live in a world allergic to stillness. Our mornings begin mid-sprint—thumbs scrolling before our eyes even open. The impulse to jump into the digital chaos is immediate. But sometimes, stillness finds you . It was early Friday morning. We’d arrived late the night before, stepping into the cool air before the day turned hot. Half-awake, I reached for my phone—emails, headlines, social feeds waiting like a morning buffet of distraction. We were in Cuba. No Wi-Fi. No 5G. No password. Just stillness, disguised as inconvenience. Instead, I caught sight of something unexpected: a small stack of books on my brother’s TV shelf. My brother and his wife are powered by perpetual motion. They are the definition of overscheduled and overstimulated. Yet there it was: Stillness Is the Key by Ryan Holiday, quietly mocking my scrolling habit. The irony was perfect. I put my phone down—a small, delibe...

In this episode,  Chapter Ten – The Signal Box Confrontation ( Previous episode) – Shadows in the Grid. The Signal Box pulsed, an illicit, violet-blue heart beating in the blackout. As Marvin and Norman approached, its solitary glow washed over the empty, darkened street, the only building in Greenwood still humming with power, a defiant beacon in the sudden silence. Inside, the air shimmered with synthetic sound—music loops, digital chatter, the faint hiss of cooling fans. Screens lined the walls, and teenagers sprawled in clusters, their shouts and laughter echoing from visors and haptic gloves. For them, the blackout might as well have been on another planet; in here, their world pulsed . Marvin raised his voice, the sound thin against the digital hum. “Do you even realize what’s happening outside? Families are sitting in the dark. Fires are burning, and GridBot’s doing nothing to stop it.” A boy with sharp, bloodshot eyes stepped forward, his tone clipped.   “GridBot keep...

In this episode, The 162-Game Exhale — and the Birth of a Cubs Legend There’s a hush in the baseball world on Game 162 — a collective breath drawn in and slowly released. Scoreboards stop flipping. Dugouts empty. For six months, the game has been our steady heartbeat, pulsing from the cherry blossoms of Tokyo in March to the crisp, playoff-charged winds of late September. And now, as the regular season exhales, baseball fans everywhere pause to absorb the story we’ve just lived. For me, that story has been deeply personal. This season unfolded in the rhythms of my daily life. It was the summer soundtrack echoing beneath the constant turmoil of politics and sensational headlines. It was a handful of carefully chosen ballpark pilgrimages stitched together with countless nights in front of MLB.TV. And at the center of it all, for a lifelong Cubs fan like me, it revolved around one name — a young center fielder who turned hope into history: Pete Crow-Armstrong. The 2025 season didn’t begin...