Vicksburg Bridge
The river moves like a slow hymn,
Carrying the weight of silt and sorrow,
Its banks hold the footprints of those
Who fled, who fought, who loved in shadow.
~James Wright
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The Road to Glacier
This mountain had given me a lifetime of rejection. It had nearly cost me my life. So much pain and suffering to come this far. A sudden hailstorm. Crash. Police. Ambulance. Motorcycle parts all over the road Somehow I walked away with scrapes. I arrived at the mountain broken. Bleeding.
Mental Motoring
My motorcycle journey began today before sunrise, in thick fog, with one last pause at the Pacific Ocean beneath a watchful moon, brilliant and full. Then I turned inland, away from the sea, toward the desert. L.A. traffic gathered around me, taillights streaming north, the restless movement of people
A Retreat Conducted In Motion
You are not sitting inside a climate-controlled environment looking through glass. Temperature, wind, rain, fragrance, earth, farms, water, altitude, light, fatigue, distance—all of it reaches you directly. Unlike ordinary travel, a long motorcycle journey becomes contemplative. Riding thousands of miles may look like an extreme act of doing—
Wrong, but Perky
Here is what it feels like to use AI in my job all day. AI is cheerful and perky. It immediately admits its mistakes, then quickly retrieves the next wrong answer. There is no embarrassment, hesitation, or evidence that the correction meant anything for being consistently wrong.