Three Weeks on the Rig and the Shore Feels Loud
Rotation end. Helicopter in. My apartment smelled like dust. The neighbor's television through the wall felt aggressive. Offshore quiet gets into your bones....
#solitude
I Talk to the Radio When the House Is Quiet
Public radio in the kitchen. Not for news. For voices. The house is quiet in a way that used to feel peaceful and now sometimes feels like a held breath. I a...
The Library Book Was Due in 2019
I found a novel in the coat pocket I have not worn since before the pandemic. Due date stamped 2019. The fine is probably astronomical. I returned it anyway....
Two Weeks Offshore and the Language You Forget
I have been back on land for three days. Someone asked if I wanted to grab coffee, and for a moment it felt like they had offered me an abstraction I had onl...
My Neighbor's Hedge and the Politics of Looking Away
Harold trimmed his hedge again at six in the morning. Electric trimmer. Third Tuesday in a row. We have lived beside each other for nine years and exchanged...
The Grocery List Is the Last Honest Document I Write
I wrote milk on the list, crossed it out when I remembered the half carton in the fridge, then wrote milk again an hour later. This is my literary life now:...
What October Teaches You to Keep
An essay on why the small, unhurried moments of daily life — frost, a daughter's call, a slow book — matter more than a productivity culture admits.
The Colour the North Sea Keeps
An offshore oil worker reflects on eleven Octobers in the North Sea — on distance, small kindnesses, and a life that defies easy judgment.
You Cannot Outrun Your Thoughts at 65 MPH
A long-haul drive through Nebraska becomes a meditation on solitude, introspection, and why we can't outrun our own thoughts no matter how fast we drive.
The 5 A.M. Nod
A short, sharp essay on why 5 a.m. runners don't talk — and what the silent nod between them actually means about running, sanity, and self-knowledge.
Closing Your Eyes Is Not Doing Nothing
Stillness isn't laziness. Closing your eyes to think, reflect, or breathe is serious mental work — and our screens are quietly destroying our ability to do it.
Grounded Is Not a Punishment. It's the Only Power That Matters.
Being grounded was never a punishment — it's the rarest human power. We've trained children to fear solitude, and adults are paying the price.
We Taught Kids That Solitude Is Punishment
How teaching children that being grounded is a punishment quietly programs them to fear solitude and lose the one skill that makes everything else possible.
Grounded Is Not a Punishment. It's the Only Power That Matters.
We teach children that being grounded is punishment, wiring them to flee solitude. This editorial argues groundedness is humanity's most essential power.
Grounded Is Not a Punishment. It's the Only Power That Matters.
Being 'grounded' is taught as punishment, but groundedness is the most powerful human capacity. This editorial argues we've been training children to fear solitude.