There is a field beneath the noise.

Not the noise of the world, but the noise inside us, the fixing, the striving, the trying to become.

When the noise settles, a different kind of intelligence shows up. Not ideas or strategies, but noticing. Seeing. Remembering.

The field is the place before improvement, where things begin to make sense again. Where truth shows up.

People find the field in the in-between seasons — when old identities feel too small, when the next step hasn’t announced itself, when life feels like it’s waiting for you to catch up.

In the field, nothing is missing and what falls away is everything that no longer feels true.

Each Thursday I send Field Notes from the Edge:
two small pieces, one imagined, one observed.

Written from the place where fixing ends and living begins.