Finding the Field Again

Sometimes the field is not something we choose.

We find ourselves in it.

Shaped by it.
Responding to it
before we have words for what is happening.

—

And sometimes,
we stay longer than we need to.

Not because we want to,
but because we have learned to.

—

It can take time
to notice what no longer fits.

Not dramatically.
Just small signals.

A tightening.
A dullness.
Something that does not quite settle.

—

At first, it is easy to dismiss.

To adjust.
To carry on.
To assume it is something in us that needs to change.

—

But slowly,
something else begins to happen.

Attention shifts.

Not outward in a searching way,
but gently,
as if listening for something quieter.

—

Where is there space?
Where is there light?
Where does something in me ease, even slightly?

—

The answers are often small.

A place.
A rhythm.
A way of being
that does not ask so much.

—

It is not always a clear leaving.

Or a clear arrival.

Sometimes it is just
a turning.

A small reorientation
towards something that can hold us better.

—

That is often enough to begin.

—

There is always another small opening.