When the Timing Is Right

I have a list.

Actually, I have several lists.

Historic locations I’d love to investigate. Stories I want to explore. People I’d like to talk to. Mysteries that have sent me down research rabbit holes at hours when I should absolutely be sleeping.

People sometimes ask me how I choose where we investigate for Echoes of the South, and I think they expect there to be some carefully mapped-out master plan behind it.

There isn’t.

I have ideas. I do research. I reach out to people when something interests me.

But some of the most compelling investigations we’ve done began with something I never could have planned.

A conversation.

A chance introduction.

Someone mentioning a strange experience they’ve had.

A homeowner saying, “You know, you should come investigate our house.”

An invitation that seemingly falls out of the sky.

And whenever that happens, I pay attention.

Because I’ve learned to trust the timing.

Prefer to listen? This Field Notes entry is available as an audio recording below.

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Prefer to listen? This Field Notes entry is available as an audio recording below.

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The List Is Not the Plan

I like having a plan.

I also know when to abandon one.

My list of potential investigations gives me somewhere to look when I need it, but I’ve never wanted Echoes of the South to become a checklist of places we need to get into.

There is something about this work that resists that kind of structure.

Sometimes a location I’ve been thinking about for months goes quiet.

The timing doesn’t work.

The right person doesn’t respond.

Access isn’t possible.

Something simply doesn’t come together.

I’ve learned not to push it.

Because while I’m staring at the door that isn’t opening, another one has a funny habit of appearing somewhere I wasn’t looking.

And very often, that is where we end up.

I don’t think those moments are random.

I believe the universe has a sense of timing that extends far beyond what I can see from where I’m standing.

So I keep the list.

But I leave room for something else to happen.

Some Things Cannot Be Scheduled

There is another layer to this when you’re investigating the unknown.

We can schedule an investigation for 7:00 p.m.

That doesn’t mean whatever we’re going there to understand is operating on our schedule.

We can arrive with cameras, recorders, equipment, historical research, and a long list of questions.

We can be ready.

That doesn’t mean everyone else is.

A spirit may not be ready to communicate with us.

Someone may not trust us yet.

There may be something we need to understand first.

A piece of the story may not have revealed itself.

Or the reason we are there may turn out to be entirely different from the reason we thought we were going.

That can be difficult for those of us on this side of things.

We want answers.

We want to understand.

And when we believe someone may need help, we want to help them now.

But wanting an answer doesn’t make it available.

Wanting to help doesn’t mean we immediately understand what help is needed.

Sometimes the work is in recognizing that something isn’t ready and having enough respect not to force it.

Listening for the Opportunity

I think intuition is often misunderstood as knowing exactly what is going to happen.

That isn’t how I experience it.

For me, intuition is much quieter.

It’s recognizing when something deserves my attention.

It’s knowing when to make the phone call.

When to follow the unexpected lead.

When to say yes to an invitation I wasn’t expecting.

And sometimes, when to leave something alone for now.

There are opportunities that immediately feel right to me even when I couldn’t give you a logical explanation for why.

I get excited when those appear.

Not because I know what we’re going to find.

Quite the opposite.

I get excited because I don’t know.

Something has presented itself at this particular moment, through this particular person, and I trust there is a reason for that.

Then we go find out what it is.

Catching the Merry-Go-Round

The best way I can describe it is jumping onto a merry-go-round that is already spinning.

You don’t control when it started.

You aren’t controlling its speed.

And stopping the entire thing just so you can climb aboard rather defeats the purpose.

You watch.

You listen.

You feel the rhythm.

And when the opening comes around, you move.

Too early and the moment isn’t there yet.

Too late and you may watch it pass.

But every once in a while, the timing is exactly right.

You grab hold and suddenly you’re moving with something that was already in motion long before you arrived.

That is what some of these investigations feel like to me.

We aren’t beginning the story.

Whatever is happening at a location was happening before we knew anything about it.

The people involved were already living their lives.

The history had already unfolded.

The spirits were already there.

We simply arrive at the moment when our path crosses theirs.

Trusting What I Can’t See

There is a strange freedom in accepting that I don’t need to know where every investigation is coming from.

I still do the work.

I research.

I plan.

I keep adding things to that list.

But I don’t mistake preparation for control.

Some of the most meaningful experiences I’ve had with Echoes of the South happened because I followed something unexpected.

And each time that happens, it makes me a little more willing to trust the next one.

Maybe six months from now I’ll finally investigate something that has been sitting on my list since the beginning.

Maybe tomorrow someone will mention a place I’ve never heard of and suddenly everything will begin moving.

I don’t need to know.

That may be one of the unexpected lessons investigating the unknown has given me.

You can spend so much energy trying to determine what should happen next that you stop noticing what is happening right in front of you.

So I make plans.

And then I listen.

Because sometimes the opportunity you’ve been waiting for isn’t the one you planned for at all.

It’s the one coming around the corner.

You just have to recognize when it’s time to jump on.

Field Notes

Field Notes are personal reflections from my ongoing investigations, historical research, and conversations across the South. They are not meant to provide definitive answers, only honest observations gathered along the way.

Until next time…

Stay close.