The field principle
How to see and work with the invisible forces you inhabit.
First light touched the eastern sky. Stars faded. Bird calls intensified.
Twelve hours in the grave. The night vigil complete.
I stirred beneath my blanket. The intense headache that had been my constant companion throughout the night remained fierce as ever. The ground beneath me was still hard. The air still cold. But something had changed.
Not in the conditions. In my relationship to them.
I had entered this circle alone. Had faced fear, discomfort, and uncertainty in isolation. Somewhere during those dark hours, that sense of separation had dissolved. Not through effort or intention. Through sustained presence with what is.
I became aware of the birds not as separate beings making noise but as expressions of the same field of life that included me. The trees, the earth, the air, the light—not objects in my experience but participants in a shared field of awareness.
This wasn't a mystical abstraction. It was direct perception. I wasn't having an experience. I was the experience. And so was everything else.
In that recognition, I discovered the field principle: We exist within interconnected fields of relationship that shape everything that happens.
The myth of separation
Most of us operate as if we're separate entities—independent selves interacting with a world of separate objects and people. This perception creates a particular way of engaging with life. We try to control what happens. Protect ourselves from what threatens. Acquire what benefits us.
But this perception is incomplete. It captures one level of reality while missing another.
At a deeper level, we exist within fields of relationship—complex webs of interaction where everything affects everything else. These fields operate whether we're aware of them or not. They shape our experiences, our relationships, our possibilities in ways that transcend linear cause and effect.
These fields include:
Physical fields—the tangible environments we inhabit and how they affect our bodies and behaviors.
Emotional fields—the contagious nature of feelings, how they spread between people without word or action.
Relational fields—the patterns of connection and communication that emerge between people and groups.
Consciousness fields—the shared awareness that includes yet transcends individual perspectives.
These aren't metaphorical constructs. They're actual dimensions of reality that we experience all the time, though often without recognizing them.
Direct field awareness
Lying in my grave as dawn approached, I became acutely aware of these fields. Not through thinking about them but through directly experiencing their reality.
The physical field was obvious—the earth supporting my body, the air filling my lungs, the gradual warming as the sun rose. But I experienced these elements not as separate from me but as continuous with me. The boundary between "me" and "not me" became permeable, revealing a physical continuity that had always existed but rarely entered awareness.
The emotional field became apparent through subtle shifts in my inner state that corresponded with changes in the environment. As birds began their dawn chorus, something lifted in my chest. As light increased, internal spaciousness expanded. These weren't just responses to external stimuli but participations in shared emotional currents.
The field of awareness itself transformed most dramatically. Throughout the night, I had experienced myself as the subject of awareness, with everything else as objects within it. With dawn's approach, this structure inverted. Awareness itself became primary, with "me" and "everything else" as movements within that field rather than separate entities.
This shift wasn't philosophical. It was perceptual. A direct recognition of what had always been true but obscured by habitual patterns of attention.
From individual to field development
The field principle fundamentally changes how we approach expansion. Instead of focusing exclusively on individual development—on becoming better, smarter, more skilled—we recognize that transformation also involves shifting our relationship with the fields we inhabit and that inhabit us.
This means:
Becoming aware of the fields already operating in our lives and work.
Recognizing how these fields shape what's possible and what's constrained.
Learning to work with and influence these fields rather than just trying to control our individual actions within them.
Developing the capacity to perceive and participate in fields beyond our usual awareness.
These shifts don't replace individual development. They contextualize it within a wider understanding of how transformation happens—not just through personal effort but through changing our relationship with the interconnected whole.
Gratitude as field recognition
As dawn fully arrived, I prepared to emerge from the grave. The elder's instructions were clear: "Before you rise, give thanks. Acknowledge what has held and surrounded you through the night."
This wasn't just ritual politeness. It was recognition of relationship—honoring the field that had supported transformation.
I offered tobacco to the eight directions. Spoke words of gratitude to the earth that had held me, the air I had breathed, the creatures whose sounds had accompanied my vigil, the light now returning.
Again, this wasn't abstract or merely symbolic. It was acknowledging actual relationship. The night's experience had made clear that my existence depended on these relationships—not just for physical survival but for meaning, for context, for the very possibility of being.
As I spoke these words of gratitude, something unexpected happened. The headache that had accompanied me from the moment I entered the grave until this final moment—suddenly vanished. Not gradually. Completely. In an instant.
I couldn't explain this through conventional cause and effect. But through the lens of field awareness, it made perfect sense. The headache had served its purpose within the field of transformation—keeping me intensely present, preventing mental escape into abstraction. With that purpose complete, the pattern shifted, not through my individual action but through the intelligence of the field itself.
Fields in leadership and life
The field principle applies in all domains of leadership and life:
In teams and organizations, it means recognizing that performance issues often reflect field conditions rather than just individual capacities. Changing the field—the patterns of communication, the quality of attention, the emotional atmosphere—can transform what's possible without requiring everyone to individually improve.
In relationships, it means attending to the quality of the space between people, not just the individuals themselves. Transforming a relationship often happens through shifting this between-space rather than trying to change the other person.
In personal development, it means recognizing that our individual patterns exist within wider fields that either reinforce or challenge them. Changing contexts and relationships often enables personal shifts that seem impossible within existing fields.
In each case, the invitation is to expand our awareness beyond individual entities to include the relationships and spaces between them—to recognize that these "betweens" are not empty but full of formative influence.
Field responsibility
I rose from the grave as the sun cleared the eastern mountains. Stood on earth that had covered me through the night. Felt the first warm rays on my face.
The ceremonial instructions continued: "Break the circle. Fill the hole. Leave no trace."
I dismantled the stone circle that had defined my sacred space. Filled the grave with the earth I had removed the day before. Buried my prayer stick and cloth strips as offerings of gratitude.
These actions weren't just practical cleanup. They were acknowledgment of field responsibility—recognition that we affect the environments we inhabit, even temporarily, and have accountability for these effects.
When complete, a newcomer would find no evidence I had been there. No visible trace of the powerful transformation that had occurred in that place. The physical field appeared unchanged.
Yet I knew something had shifted in less visible dimensions. My presence had affected the field, just as it had affected me. The relationship was reciprocal, as all field relationships are.
This understanding would change how I approached my work with others. Not seeing myself as an external expert who affects clients but doesn't get affected. Rather, recognizing that transformation always happens within shared fields where everyone and everything participates and gets transformed.
Expanded perception
Walking back toward base camp, I noticed how different the landscape appeared compared to my outward journey. Not because it had changed, but because my way of perceiving had shifted.
Before, I had seen separate objects—trees, rocks, clouds—against the background of sky and earth. Now, I perceived relationships first—the play of light and shadow, the conversations between wind and branches, the dance of clouds with mountains.
This wasn't just aesthetic appreciation. It was functional perception—seeing dimensions of reality that had always been present but had remained outside my awareness.
This expanded perception revealed patterns and possibilities invisible to my previous way of seeing. I noticed game trails I had missed before. Sensed water sources I couldn't have located earlier. Felt subtle shifts in the air that signaled weather changes.
Again, these weren't mystical abilities. They were natural capacities that emerge when we perceive fields rather than just objects—when we attend to relationships and patterns rather than isolated entities.
The same expanded perception applies in leadership. Leaders who develop field awareness notice patterns invisible to others—emerging opportunities, potential conflicts, unspoken concerns, untapped possibilities. Not because they have special powers but because they're attending to dimensions of reality that others overlook.
The transformative potential of fields
Perhaps the most significant insight that emerged from my dawn experience was this: Fields aren't just contexts for transformation. They're active participants in it.
When we shift our relationship with the fields we inhabit, the fields themselves respond. They reorganize around new patterns of attention and intention. They reveal possibilities that weren't accessible through individual effort alone.
This explains why identical practices produce different results in different contexts. Why the same person might thrive in one environment and struggle in another. Why transformation sometimes happens effortlessly and other times remains elusive despite diligent effort.
It's not just about what we do. It's about the fields within which we do it—and our awareness of and relationship with those fields.
This understanding doesn't diminish personal responsibility. It contextualizes it within a more complete picture of how transformation happens—not through isolated individual action but through participation in and influence of the interconnected whole.
This week's practice: Developing field awareness
If the field principle resonates with you, here are practices to engage with it directly:
1. Notice the between
In your next important conversation or meeting, shift some attention from the individuals (including yourself) to the space between you. What qualities do you notice in this shared field? How does it shift throughout the interaction? How might you influence these shifts?
2. Track emotional contagion
Throughout a day, notice how emotions move between people and contexts. Not just obvious displays but subtle currents. How does anxiety, enthusiasm, or confusion spread without explicit communication? How do you participate in these emotional fields?
3. Expand physical awareness
In a physical environment you know well (home, office, favorite outdoor space), practice perceiving the relationships between elements rather than just the elements themselves. How does light interact with surfaces? How do sounds create atmosphere? How does the arrangement of objects influence movement and attention?
4. Practice field gratitude
Each day, acknowledge the fields that support you—physical environments, relationships, knowledge contexts, cultural frameworks. Not as abstract concepts but as actual presences that enable your existence and development. Notice how this acknowledgment shifts your experience.
Integration brings these principles to life
Next week, we'll explore the integration principle—how transformation isn't complete until it's woven into everyday life, and how the journey continues through ongoing embodiment rather than seeking endless breakthroughs.
Until then, I invite you to explore the fields you inhabit and that inhabit you—to notice how they shape what's possible, and to experiment with influencing them through awareness rather than just acting within them.
Remember: The fields we inhabit are not background to our individual development. They're active participants in what we can perceive, what we can create, and who we can become. Expanding our awareness to include these fields doesn't diminish our individuality—it contextualizes it within the interconnected reality where transformation actually happens.
If this perspective resonates with you, consider sharing with others who might benefit. Next week's newsletter will explore the integration principle—how transformation isn't complete until it's woven into everyday life.