Build the Life That Supports What Lights You Up!

Read this as a Field Note post​

Hi Reader!

One of my favorite things about summer is that it feels... juicy.

Not just because it's hot enough that you're sweating in places you'd rather not.

But because it's the season when things begin to ripen. Gardens start giving back after months of quiet tending. The tomatoes finally taste like tomatoes. Peaches drip down your chin and everything seems to carry a little more sweetness.

Lately, I've been noticing another kind of juiciness on my daily walks.

Every summer, wild black raspberries begin appearing along the trails near my house. My kids have been anticipating this season for weeks.

There's something wonderfully satisfying about stumbling across fruit that nobody planted for you.

You didn't have to earn it and it isn't something you planned for. It's something you simply noticed it was there and enjoyed the surprise.

It feels like one of those quiet gifts the season offers if you're paying attention.

But this year I noticed something else.

Some of the patches that had become reliable over the years barely produced anything and at first, I found myself checking those same familiar places anyway thinking maybe I missed them.

Then I wandered in a different direction and discovered that a place I'd walked past for years without much thought was suddenly overflowing with berries.

They were easier to reach (and less poison ivy to step around) and somehow, there were more black raspberries than I'd found in years.

The thread of that observation stayed with me long after I finished my walk.

How often do we keep returning to the places, strategies, routines, or expectations that used to nourish us simply because they always have?

Not because they're still the most life-giving... Just because they're familiar.

One of the things Human Orientation has been teaching me is that paying attention isn't only about noticing what feels difficult.

It's also about noticing where life has quietly changed.

Sometimes the old paths aren't wrong, they've simply become different terrain.

Sometimes new possibilities have been growing just a little farther down the trail, waiting for us to become curious enough to wander beyond what has always worked.

That doesn't mean abandoning everything familiar.

It simply means remaining open to the possibility that today's nourishment may not arrive from yesterday's favorite patch.

I've been wondering if this is true in more places than berry picking.

Maybe it's true in our work, our creativity, relationships and even in the ways we care for ourselves.

Sometimes we don't need to try harder. Sometimes we simply need to notice that the conditions have changed.

And maybe that's part of what this season is inviting us to practice.

Not forcing something to ripen before it's ready or clinging to what used to be abundant, simply staying curious enough to explore.

This Week's Field Observation

Pay attention to where you're still looking for nourishment because it's where you've always found it.

Then gently ask yourself-

Where might life be inviting me to explore instead?

You don't have to have the answer today, focus on noticing what catches your attention.

If you discover a new patch of black raspberries, literal or metaphorical, I hope you'll hit reply and tell me about it.

Thanks for being in the field with me.

✦

p.s. One of my favorite parts of writing these Field Notes is discovering how differently we all experience the same terrain. If this week's observation sparked something you've been noticing too, I'd genuinely love to hear about it. Some of my favorite conversations begin with a simple, "I've been noticing..."

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