Sitework

Sitework and soul work: both happen far below ground level.

I was knee-deep in sticky Oregon mud, digging a trench from the little cottage I was building out to the detached garage. It was late spring, and the snowmelt and rain had turned the ground into a thick glue that tried to steal my boots with every step.

More than once, I thought about quitting—about hiring someone else to finish the job so I could be done with the mess and exhaustion. But I knew if I kept going, I'd be able to flip a switch and see the vintage gooseneck barn light come to life over the garage door.

That trench wasn't just a path for electrical wire. It was the hidden work that made the whole place livable. The part no one would ever see, but that everything else depended on.

These past several months, I've been thinking a lot about that trench.

I'm planning a move to Virginia to build a new home and a new way of living. I haven't bought the land yet, but I'm sketching the future in my mind and on my drafting table. Sunlight falling across wooden floors. Quiet mornings. Rooms that feel warm and true.

But I've realized the real sitework isn't happening on paper or in the soil.

It's happening inside me.

I'm digging through the muddy places of my past—old shadows, unhelpful beliefs, habits that once kept me safe but now keep me stuck. It would be easy to numb myself instead. To pour a drink or bury my mind in distractions.

But instead, I keep doing this hidden work, and I can feel a switch inside me changing direction, allowing light to pour into places that have been dark for far too long.

Because there's always more to building a life than what anyone sees above ground, and before we can build something beautiful, we have to dig the trenches.

We have to do the sitework.

Because the hidden trenches we dig today become the lights that shine tomorrow.

If you find yourself standing over a trench of your own, shovel in hand, keep going. And if it ever feels like too much, reach out and ask for help, because we don't always have to dig alone.