Pushing the Pause Button

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 kindness along the way. I'll be back soon—with new energy, stories, and a clearer head.

Until then, take care of yourselves… and maybe find your own pause button, too.

I'm Patrick Ball. Stay curious, ask questions, and take pauses now and then. See you soon.

Comments

Anonymous said…

So smart!! Enjoy yourself, or welcome back as the case may be!!

October 18, 2025 at 9:18 AM

Don Hanley said…

I hope you find a 'kingless' c0untry 0ver there - I read the gpv. there is afraid of the people, whereas we are afraid of the gov. Find out if this is true form,

October 18, 2025 at 3:32 PM

A Mother’s Day Reflection

With Mother’s Day here and the world bustling with cards, brunches, and busy schedules, I find myself reflecting on something a bit simpler: taking a moment to remember the person who helped shape my earliest sense of home. Mauricette Elaine (Bontemps) Ball. My Mom. We arrived in Cuba after leaving La Rochelle, France, in 1959—a transition whose enormity I only fully appreciate now. My mother, barely in her mid-twenties, stepped into Midwestern life with remarkable courage. Her smile could warm the coldest Illinois morning, and her hugs lingered long after she let go—quiet reminders that you were deeply loved. Born February 16, 1934, the third of four children, she grew up in Nazi-occupied La Rochelle. As kids, we listened wide-eyed to stories of soldiers patrolling her streets and fear shadowing everyday life. Yet she carried none of that darkness forward. What endured was resilience and an unwavering devotion to family—qualities she carried across the Atlantic and planted firmly in C...

That Fateful Four-Letter Word

In this episode, A Masterclass in Efficiency. For nearly four months, the western border of our property has stood as a living monument to determination, dubious planning, and forensic-level lumber acquisition. Since February, our neighbor Steve has been conducting what can only be described as a masterclass in deliberate calculation. This was never going to be one of those slick home-improvement shows where a cheerful pair of men installs a fence between commercial breaks, sipping lemonade. No. This was real life in retirement. We scaled the vertical wilderness of our hillside. We mixed concrete with the precision of medieval alchemists. We bled, we sweated, and we fought hand-to-hand with a buried tree stump that had the structural integrity of a Cold War bunker. By this week—May 16th, for those keeping score—the glorious end was finally within reach. The fence stood proudly, the line was straight, and victory practically hummed in the air. Only one major task remained: installing t...

Truth for Sale

This episode is inspired by Elton John & Bernie Taupin On Memorial Day, I took my first bike ride since the accident , seeking proof that my legs, lungs, and nerves still remembered the road. The morning air carried that familiar Southern California mix of ocean haze, exhaust, eucalyptus, and sun-baked asphalt. My tires hummed across pavement I’ve ridden for years. Somewhere between the steady click of the chain and the rhythm of my breathing, Elton John and Bernie Taupin’s The Captain and the Kid found its way into my ears. There’s a strange kind of magic when the cadence of a ride syncs perfectly with a song you know by heart. Suddenly, the music and lyrics stop being background noise and become a lens. And through that lens, the road started talking. I've been cycling on this road some, Can't help feeling I've been showing my friends around. I've seen it grow from next to nothing, To a giant eatin’ up our town. Called up the tealeaves and the tarots, Asked the...

The Giants We Chase

In this episode, The Gleam Within We grow up steeped in fairy tales and grand mythologies. From a young age, we are taught to scan the horizon for the hero—the knight, the savior, the titan who will arrive to make sense of the world. We marvel at the mountains' beauty and nature's majesty, yet, as the old wisdom goes, "we pass over the mystery of ourselves without a single thought." I remember being the little guy from a small town in rural Illinois, looking up at the world and seeing only Giants. I would listen to Earl Nightingale’s Our Changing World broadcasts, mesmerized by the towering figures of success and intellect he described. When you feel small, you naturally seek out those Giants for a glimpse of their light—hoping some of it might rub off on you, preferably without having to do whatever it was they did to earn it. In 1985, while I was earning my G.G. credential, I met Richard T. Liddicoat, the Patriarch of GIA. To everyone in the industry, he was the Fat...

On The Fly

Search This Blog