I have a thing for fields.
Something about acres of grass with a rhythmic pulse raises the hair on my neck and calls me to it. A field defines abundance, houses potential, secretes life, provides nourishment, and, historically speaking, births men.
I’m not necessarily referring to our genesis but calling attention to what makes a man, if you will. Dirt under the nails and salt dried to the brow offers a satisfaction that few others can. Men thrive on work that produces change, a difference, meaning. This thought is the essence of FIELD.
Please don’t mistake FIELD for some hoorah-man-meeting where you will read about proper grunting technique. Adversely, FIELD is also a no-frolicking zone. Here my friends and I (and maybe you, too) will discuss our meaning, our passions, and our King. My hope is this journey will be long and abundant, full of learning and growth: from fly-fishing to woodworking to companionship to sonship.
We will find ourselves more capable and willing than our fathers or bosses or coaches might have let on, and we will come to an understanding that we have what it takes.
The best way for a young man to rise, is to improve himself in every way he can, never suspecting that anyone wishes to hinder him.
My man Lincoln seems to get it. Let us better our selves, our communities, and our world through this funny thing called Field + Bone. The best is on its way.