Bark

FIELD NOTE 03

Bark

The pattern and texture drew me in.

A little research taught me that the bark of some trees can hold generous amounts of water in reserve. The protective barrier also helps the tree retain what it needs to live.

It made me think differently about protection.

There have been times when I thought being open meant remaining accessible. Protecting myself felt like withholding something from another person.

But not everyone knows how to hold what is vulnerable without trying to control it. Some crowd the space, taking more than was offered. Others abandon it when they can no longer determine the terms.

A boundary reveals the difference.

How someone responds when we protect what matters is information. It can remind us of what we have already seen when we are tempted to forget.

Perhaps boundaries are less about keeping others out and more about keeping something essential within.

The bark does not only protect the tree from what surrounds it. It helps the tree hold what sustains it.

Maybe ours do, too.

The Stepping Stones

FIELD NOTE 02

The Stepping Stones 

We return again and again to the same places.

Same stones.
Same crossing.
New experience.

As a child, I was determined to cross these stepping stones without help. My mom stayed close, but I wanted to do it on my own. Each step onto a stone was immediately followed by another right beside it. 

As a young adult, I crossed confidently, one foot on each stone.

As a young mother, I trusted the strength of my footing as I held the little hands of my children in mine. With every one of my steps onto a stone, their brave bodies took two.

As they got older, they wanted to cross by themselves. I crossed behind them, watching as they found their own footing.

Now, in midlife, I didn’t pay attention to the stones or how many steps it took to cross.

I crossed with curiosity.

I looked into the water at the snails, a frog, and the duckweed.

The stones were the same.

I was not.

Begin with noticing.

FIELD NOTE 01

Begin by noticing.

Noticing begins in the body.

We breathe in, allowing ourselves enough space to pause. We notice what has been stirred in us without allowing it to determine what comes next.

I see you, and I need to see beyond you right now.

I need to see the whole picture before I know what your part is in it.

I look for what is outside the usual pattern. Every day I am greeted by sunshine, so when the clouds come, I take notice. The better I know the sun, the more attuned I become to the clouds.

But noticing is not simply looking for what is wrong. It is seeing what is here—what falls outside the usual pattern without necessarily needing to be fixed.

begin tomorrow.

We tend to look for solutions before we understand the pattern.

But there is something worth doing first:

Notice.

Tomorrow, I’m beginning Field Notes—a place to share what I’m noticing about people, leadership, transition, and change.

Observations from the field.