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The Great Un-Working

In this episode. 2026—The Year of the Great Un-Working

Welcome to On the Fly. If you’re new here, this is a place for noticing—the small, easily missed moments that quietly turn out to matter. It’s part reflection, part curiosity, and occasionally part grease-stained bicycle rag. If you’re searching for life hacks, hustle culture, or a seven-step plan to optimize your morning coffee, you may have taxied onto the wrong runway.

But if you’ve ever felt the itch to slow down and look around—welcome aboard.

Happy 2026!

If you’re like us, you spent the last week of 2025 doing three things remarkably well: 

  1. Avoiding unfinished projects.
  2. Eating things wrapped in foil.
  3. Quietly wondering how procrastination still isn’t an Olympic sport.

    Then–the calendar flipped, the air sharpened, and the “R” word floated into view.

No—not Resolutions.

Retirement.

Or, as we prefer to think of it here at On the Fly:
The Great Life Re-Creation Project.

This year isn’t about stopping. It’s about un-working—setting down what no longer fits and picking up what we kept meaning to get back to. Less urgency. More intention. Fewer meetings. Better questions.

Here’s what that looks like as we start the year.

From PowerPoint to Power Chords.

For years, music was something other people did confidently.

In 2026, I’m leaning into finger-style guitar—nylon strings, quieter moods, fewer heroic flourishes—music not as performance, but as practice.

  • The Plan:
    Lessons at the local music store. Supporting local business—and removing my ability to claim I “meant to practice.”
  • The Goal:
    To play something soulful enough that the neighbors stop calling the authorities and start leaving tips on the porch.
  • The Reality Check:
    I’m aiming for Spanish Romance. I’ll settle for not snapping a high-E string and losing an eye.

Dusting Off the Universe

There’s a telescope in the garage.

If you’re new here, you should know this: On the Fly has a soft spot for forgotten tools—the ones we bought with BIG curiosity and then buried under real life.

January skies are clear, cold, and honest. Perfect for reminding us that our daily worries are statistically insignificant in the grand scheme of the Milky Way.

  • The Plan:
    Connect with the local Astronomy Club. Spend time with people who think Andromeda is a perfectly reasonable Saturday night topic.
  • The Goal:
    Locate a galaxy without an app thinking for me.
  • The Likely Outcome:
    Three hours in the cold before realizing I’ve been staring at a distant streetlamp again. Ha ha!

Grease, Gears, and Giving Back

Cycling has been part of my life since I was fourteen. Around here, bikes aren’t just transportation—they’re teachers.

This summer, On the Fly headquarters may transform into a small bicycle classroom.

  • The Plan:
    Teach local kids basic repairs: fixing flats, indexing derailleurs, and mastering the fine art of not tracking grease into the house.
  • The Goal:
    Every kid knows the difference between a tire iron and a screwdriver.
  • The Vibe:
    Exploring new horizons on two wheels—preferably without fixing twenty bikes at once while everyone eats my snacks.

The 2026 “Newly Idle” Reading List (Any suggestions?)

Because un-working takes practice:

  • How to Do Nothing — Jenny Odell
  • The Music Lesson — Victor Wooten
  • Astrophysics for People in a Hurry — Neil deGrasse Tyson

The universe is vast. For the first time in a while, we’re not rushing through it.

If You’re New Here, Start With These Questions

On the Fly isn’t about retirement.
It’s about reinvention at any age.

So let me ask you—directly:

What are you "un-working" on this year?
What habit, identity, or expectation has quietly expired?
What would you pick up if productivity weren’t the point?

A guitar. A telescope. A camera. A wrench. Or simply the habit of noticing.

Stop using AI like a search engine. Click here to see what happens when you treat it like a creative partner.

I’m Patrick Ball. Stay curious. Ask better questions: clear skies—and tailwinds.

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