“We do not learn from experience... we learn from reflecting on experience.” — John Dewey

I named this space MotionMic. because I do my best thinking on the move.

Walking, pacing, driving, standing in line at the grocery store with a thought crystallizing faster than I can thumb-type it into my phone.

The microphone is literal — voice-to-text dictation is how most of my raw ideas enter my system. I open an app, hit record, speak a reflection, and a rough note lands in my digital inbox. Later, sitting at a desk, I clean it up, connect it to other notes, and eventually it becomes part of a manuscript or an article, resource, or some other line of inquiry.

Call it an inroad.

That is the design. The reality, lately, has been something different. I spent an entire day last week at a computer. Not writing. Not thinking. Not producing anything a reader would ever see. I was rebuilding the infrastructure underneath my notes — the filing system, the backup system, the security configuration, the automation scripts. I was working ON the workshop instead of IN it.

There is a well-known tension in the personal knowledge management community between these two modes.

Working IN your system means capturing ideas, writing, linking concepts, producing output. Working ON your system means designing templates, reorganizing folders, configuring plugins, debugging automation. The first mode is why the system exists. The second mode is what keeps it functional. And the gravitational pull of the second mode is powerful, because it feels productive without requiring you to face the blank page.

The paradox was not lost on me: the entire point of my workflow is to spend less time at a desk.

The Bridge-Building Day

David Allen argued that the mind is for having ideas, not holding them. Tiago Forte extended this to knowledge work: your notes constitute an external thinking system, organized by actionability. Both frameworks assume the infrastructure works. Mine stopped working when a dictated note could not be found because the tools assumed a naming convention the note did not follow.

This is the gap between capture and formalization. When you dictate on the move, you name things intuitively. When you search later, you search systematically. If nothing bridges those two conventions, things fall through.

Here is one bridge I built after the breakdown.

This Obsidian Dataview query surfaces every note in your Inbox that has been sitting unfiled for more than 7 days — the ones most likely to drift into invisibility:

dataviewTABLE file.ctime AS "Captured", file.size AS "Size"
FROM "01INBOX"
WHERE (date(today) - file.ctime).days > 7
SORT file.ctime ASC

If you run that and the list is long, you have a formalization backlog. That is where notes go to die. When it works well it lists all disorganized notes for the past seven days:

Allen describes having a “Mind Like Water” to invoke the idea of flow (see Tim Ferriss’s interview with Allen, here).

Its refers to optimizing a state of ‘flow’

The problem is developing the infrastructure that allow my work to flow effortlessly regardless to whether I’m walking, talking, or sat at my desk.

You Cannot Dictate a Backup Script

The uncomfortable truth about mobile-first knowledge work: the infrastructure that supports mobility is itself deeply stationary work.

You cannot dictate a backup script.

You cannot configure version control while walking. You cannot debug a security boundary on a phone screen. At least, as far as I can tell — AI may soon prove me wrong.

For the time being, you can make the stationary work as small as possible.

Here is the nightly auto-commit script I now run at 11 PM via Windows Task Scheduler. It takes five minutes to set up and never needs attention again:

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“Your mind is for having ideas, not holding them.”
— David Allen, Getting Things Done

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There’s a moment in qualitative research methods training that nobody warns you about.

You’ve done the interviews. You’ve sat across from people — or beside them, or on a call, depending on the day — and asked them to tell you things they don’t usually say out loud. About their work, their frustrations, the gap between what their institution promises and what it delivers. They’ve trusted you with that. You’ve recorded it carefully. And now you’re sitting with the transcripts, trying to figure out what you’re actually holding.

For me, the reckoning arrived sideways.

I’d been invited to review a manuscript for a journal that shall not be named here — the kind of task that sounds administrative until it isn’t — and the paper introduced me, properly, to the “Jeffersonian transcription system”. Not as a citation to manage, but as a problem to think through.

And the first thing I thought was: this is either the most precise tool I’ve ever seen, or it’s making a claim it can’t fully support.

It’s both, as it turns out. And the tension between those two reactions is what this piece is about.

The Notation That Sees Everything

Gail Jefferson developed her transcription system in the 1960s and 70s alongside the founders of conversation analysis. The premise is radical in its simplicity: if you want to understand how people talk, you have to transcribe not just what they say, but how they say it. The pauses — measured in tenths of a second. The overlaps, where two voices momentarily occupy the same space. The emphasis, the elongation, the sharp intake of breath before a difficult admission. The (.) that marks a micro-pause. The = that means the next utterance followed without a beat.

On the page, a Jeffersonian transcript looks like a score. Or a crime scene. Depending on your temperament.

Here’s why it matters: in research I’ve done with parole officers, the way people talk about their work turns out to be inseparable from what they’re actually telling you about it. Sarcasm. Irony. The pause that arrives just before someone admits something they’ve been asked not to say. The laugh that isn’t really a laugh. These aren’t decorative features of language — they are the data. Strip them out and you’ve got a cleaner transcript and a worse analysis.

Jefferson understood this. Her system is a serious attempt to solve a genuinely hard problem: how do you write down a conversation without killing it?

But here’s the question the manuscript review planted in me, and that I haven’t fully stopped turning over since: does exhaustive notation solve that problem, or does it smuggle in a different set of assumptions under the cover of precision?

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I’ve been thinking about this post for months: why my work should have a price — but also remain free and accessible. Not because the decision is complicated, but because the reasoning …

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Dear friends,

This video drop is deeply personal, and it connects to the very heart of why I'm developing MotionMic in the first place: movement creates momentum—not just in our work, but in our relationships.

"Friends for Life" is gaining its own momentum as a co-authored book—and now, as a story about how connections to others can truly last a lifetime when intention is put into motion.

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Let’s kick things off by congratulating “holmanjohn”, selected at random from the subscriber list since my last post.

They'll be receiving their choice of a signed copy of either Parole Work in Canada or Friends for Life —books I co-authored last year.

This giveaway was one small way to show appreciation for joining an aspiring community. All subscribers since my last correspondence (Jan 18) were included. Whether you’ve been following along quietly or actively engaged, I’m grateful you're here. Stay tuned for more intellectual enrichment and comment below to keep the conversation going!

No Promises, Just Perspective

One small piece of housekeeping: I’ve decided not to force a regular cadence for MotionMic. It’s not a weekly or even monthly newsletter. For now, I’ll write when I have something worth sharing—sporadic ideas in flux.

Think of this less as a subscription, and more as a conversation you’re a part of. That is, one which unfolds when there’s actually something to say.

What Is MotionMic., Really?

Lately, I’ve been thinking about a concept called double-loop feedback—and I think it captures what I’m building here.

MotionMic is a space for learning out loud, failing forward (or more recently—succeeding!), and testing frameworks to make sense of real-world complexity. But more than anything, it’s a place to gain perspective.

Double-loop learning refers to systems that don’t just adapt actions, but question the assumptions behind them. It’s the difference between asking what works and asking why we’re doing it that way in the first place. That’s where you—my dear reader—enter the equation.

This space is conversational. It’s being cultivated to help think through blind spots, challenge habits of thought, and let go of the illusion that knowledge arrives fully formed. For me, learning happens in motion—through writing, filming, reflecting, revising, and staying in dialogue with others.

That’s why I’m so glad you’re here.

What Else I’m Up To

If you're curious to dive deeper into what I’m crafting through scholarship and entrepreneurial endeavors, check me out over at mptaylor.com.

A few things you’ll find:

• A direct link to my Google Scholar profile, where you can explore my peer-reviewed publications.

• A growing archive of essays on Medium.com, where I reflect on everyday life—from negotiating insurance cheques, to my thoughts on technology. Be warned: some stories are behind a paywall! But…

  for readers here—my latest essay on Bitcoin is free!

  

  My work is about making complexity legible, asking better questions, and connecting insight across disciplines.

In Other News: A Surprising Win

I’m pleased to share I was recently selected as a Top 20 National Finalist in Phase 1 of Social Science and Humanities Research Council’s 2025 Storytellers Challenge. Recognition included a $3k award and, in Phase 2, I’ll present at the Canadian Science Communicators Conference in Fredericton, June 2025.

It’s affirming to know that the strange, hybrid path I’m carving—between systems thinking, scholarship, and creative storytelling—resonates.

Help Me Learn: What Sparks Your Curiosity?

I’d love to know more about you.

What are you working on? How do you like to learn? And what kinds of reflections give you pause?

Drop a comment to share more about what you’re up to and/or respond in the poll below!

You can also reply directly. I read every message, even if I don’t always respond right away.

Micheal P. Taylor, Social Entrepreneur

Thanks for reading and thinking alongside me.

You’ll learn how to strategically align your passions with a research focus, build strong relationships with professors, craft compelling personal statements, and prepare an organized, standout application. This guide is ideal for students who want to go beyond the basics and excel in every aspect of the grad school application process—from securing strong reference letters to finding the right supervisors and funding opportunities. Whether you’re applying for a master’s or PhD program, this guide will help you confidently navigate your path to admission.

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Alicante, Spain—It was October 2013 when I arrived in the historic Mediterranean port city, where the sun kissed the streets with warmth, and life seemed to dance in the salt-tinged breeze. Tasked as an English conversationalist, I was in my element. My job too was a breeze, helping local students build confidence in their English capacities. My role, however, became much more than just language lessons—it was a window into the soul of the city, its people, and the lessons about culture that have stayed with me ever since.

The students were eager and curious, but often they would shy away, faltering with uncertainty about the big burly Canadian—a self-dubbed John Candy reincarnation—having landed on their campus. I felt like quite the celebrity with all the introductions and purview of each class of students aged 3-18. Over time, as we conversed and, at times, debated soccer teams—Real Madrid versus Barcelona—I witnessed their confidence bloom. By the time summer approached, their laughter and conversations flowed easily—and mine did too. Truthfully, I picked up as much Spanish as the kids (and adults) learned from yours truly. They would often say they liked how my accent wasn’t hard to understand.

What stayed with me most, though, was not only the classroom but the vibrancy of Alicante itself. I was lucky enough to witness the Hogueras de San Juan, Alicante's most spectacular annual festival. It was as if the city transformed overnight in the final weeks of June. Towering bonfires, colorful effigies, and parades filled the streets, celebrating not just the arrival of summer, but the spirit of renewal that seemed to pulse through every corner of Alicante. The bonfires, built with such care only to be consumed in flames, were symbolic—just as my time in Spain was, fleeting yet unforgettable.

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I’m Mike—a pracademic, PhD candidate, and the founder of MotionMic.

I study how organizations learn (and how they don’t), and somewhere along the way I developed a methodology for thinking on the move: walking, dictating, and feeding it all through a digital workflow that actually produces something.

That’s MotionMic™ in a nutshell and here is where I work ideas out aloud.

Not in the polished, after-the-fact way most people share their process — but in real time, while I’m mid-stride between the dissertation, the ventures, and the hundred small decisions that make up a knowledge worker’s day. If you’re interested in how ideas get made, not just what they look like when they’re done, you’re in the right place.

What to Expect

I split content roughly evenly between method and insight — related, but different.

On the method side, I’ll break down how I actually work: the walking-and-dictation routines, the digital note-taking architecture, the workflows that connect raw voice memos to finished writing. Think David Allen’s Getting Things Done meets Sönke Ahrens’ How to Take Smart Notes, filtered through someone who builds his entire intellectual production pipeline while moving through the world. These posts are free. If I’ve figured something out that saves you time or sharpens your process, I want you to have it.

On the insight side, I go deeper — into the ideas themselves, the tensions I’m wrestling with as a researcher and practitioner, and the harder lessons about what it means to produce serious work outside the conventional paths. Some of this carries real intellectual and personal risk, so that content lives behind the paywall. Not as a cash grab — as a commitment filter. If you’re investing in this, I want to know you’re here for it.

How to Engage

• Subscribe — Free gets you the methodology. Paid gets you the deeper work, plus access to me directly for consultation on building your own MotionMic. inspired workflows.

• Share — If something here lands, pass it along. Social media, email, group chat — the usual suspects.

• Talk back — Tell me what’s working, what isn’t, what you want to see. This isn’t a broadcast. Your voice shapes what comes next.

Keeping the conversation going,

Micheal P. Taylor

Learn more about my work at mptaylor.com

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I want to be honest with you before you read anything else on this publication.

MotionMic. is not a finished thing. It’s not a system I’ve perfected and am now generously sharing. It’s not a productivity framework, a neurodiverse self-help brand, or a certified methodology with a pathway and a cohort and a Notion template.

It’s a philosophy in motion. Still forming. Published as it forms — because I’ve come to believe that thinking out loud, accountably and in public, is its own kind of rigour.

What MotionMic actually is

The name comes from a practice: walking, dictating, thinking in motion. Not because I read it in a book about habits, but because it’s the only workflow that has ever actually worked for my brain. I’m a neurodiverse thinker with a lot of overlapping interests, an academic output requirement, two ventures to run, and a genuine belief that the ideas worth having don’t arrive at a desk.

So I walk. I dictate. I refine. I publish.

What you’ll find here is the thinking that emerges from that process — essays, field notes, dispatches, methodological reflections, and the occasional provocation. Topics drift across:

• The PhD in progress — grounded theory, correctional culture, qualitative methods, the researcher’s dilemma

• The pracademic condition — what it means to live between frontline experience and scholarly analysis

• Frontline Peer — the ground truth methodology, recognition as repair, worker voice as evidence

• Writing and intellectual production — how I think, how I work, what I’ve learned about doing both honestly

None of it is finished. All of it is serious. And Fun.

Who this is for

If you’re a researcher, practitioner, or curious person somewhere between the sharp end and the blunt end of any institution — trying to make sense of the gap between policy and practice, between what the system says and what the work actually feels like — you’re in the right place.

If you’re a writer or academic navigating the pressure to have it all figured out before you say anything, you’re also in the right place.

This publication is paywalled — not because access should be a luxury, but because the work it supports is real and ongoing. If the subscription cost is a barrier, write to me me and ask for a scholarship. I mean that.

Long-haul discounts exist for people who want to engage.

A note on voice

I write the way I think — which is to say, not in a straight line, but never without a point. You’ll find academic references alongside personal narrative alongside institutional critique. That’s not a lack of discipline. It’s the MotionMic philosophy in practice: fidelity to the complexity of the thing, without pretending it resolves more neatly than it does.

The (0.8) pause matters. So does everything that comes after it.

Welcome. I’m glad you’re here.

— Micheal P. Taylor PhD Candidate | Pracademic | Founder, Emion Innova Inc.

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