“Nothing Special” Blog

The books that have taught me how to write have also taken me out on the road to speak. The speaking and writing have happily conspired to put me in contact with many terrific people, more than I can keep up with.

This blog is my attempt to be in contact while still protecting time with Barbara and the kids, some nourishing solitude, and time to write.

I am calling it “Nothing Special” because I have no illusions of having anything particularly profound to say. Days in a life and hunches about living, along with some excerpts from What Remains and Sailing Grace.

Fear or Excitement?

Excerpt 2 from What Remains: Barbara’s breathing slows and softens. She slips into the deep sleep I want for myself. I do not follow her, adjusting and readjusting, trying not to wake her. I am desperate for the energy morning will demand. I cannot fall asleep. Is this fear or excitement? Probably a little of […]

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an empty two-lane road surrounded by grassy hills under a mostly-sunny blue sky

A Motorcycle Ride

Excerpt 1 from What Remains: At a weekly get together, I tell friends I will be away for a while. “Three, four weeks, a motorcycle ride. Get reacquainted with backroad America.” Several glasses stop short of open mouths. “Three, four weeks, alone, on your motorcycle?” “Yup,” more sheepishly than I intend. “Where you headed?” more […]

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Description of “What Remains”

  What Remains is a latter-day road book, travel in the extreme – old man, old motorcycle, thousands of miles of old broken roads. Mountains and deserts and small town America, three hundred potholed miles at a time. Off-center characters in the out-of-the-way places where they carve out an existence. The grit and grace it […]

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FINNEGAN

I doubt you know you are a dog, Finnegan. No mind for it, no time. No regret or rumination about this unearned life of privilege – kibble morning and night, a late afternoon hour in the woods. Nor it’s certain end, for that matter. Only this cuffed hand and it’s comfortable fingers, stroking an ear […]

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SUMMER

I do love the return of summer, the soft rush of it, the thrust from ground to green, the mating serenade out in the trees, the buzz and hum of it, the heat and sweat and shedding of clothes.  

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WHEN

“When I was the stream, the forest, when I was still the field, when I was every hoof, foot, fin and wing, when I was the sky itself, no one ever asked me did I have a purpose, for there was nothing I could not love.” Meister Eckhart

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MISSION

“Yes–the springtimes needed you. Often a star was waiting for you to notice it. A wave rolled toward you out of the distant past, or as you walked under an open window, a violin yielded itself to your hearing. All this was mission. But could you accomplish it? Weren’t you always distracted by expectation, as […]

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