Dear friends,

The winter solstice is here and I have a Field Note to share.

I recorded this from my bed with the sun streaming through the window, five shades of green moss glowing on the granite boulders, and that particular quality of December light settling in.

Nic and I have been talking at length about family rituals this year. We’re big full moon people, big seasonal people. We love a ritual connected to the land and its cycles. And this solstice feels especially important after such an expansive, stripping-away kind of year.

So, I’m sharing a simple rest and gratitude practice with you. Something we can do together to honor the tiredness, acknowledge what our bodies have carried, and connect to what we’re grateful for, without trying to fix or change anything.

Inside we explore—

* A grounding practice you can do anywhere (sitting, lying down, walking)

* Permission to let the tiredness be okay

* A simple gratitude practice that lands in the body

* My prayer for all of us as we move into the longest night

This will be our last Field Note and my final share for 2025. I’m going to practice my own medicine and take two weeks of rest, well, as much as one can with three young kids and a band of mini horses :)

Thank you for tuning in. Thank you for being part of this community. Thank you for supporting The Deeper Call.

I am truly grateful for you.

See you in January!

With love and care,Ashley

PSIf you are a paid member (thank you so much!) and want some somatic support this season, here is my go-to breathwork practices for easing holiday stress. And, if you to engage with a longer end of year practice, please visit our Breathwork for Intention Setting immersion from last December. I’ll be flowing through this sequence of writing prompts to myself take inventory and sketch out what I want to call in for the New Year. x

I’m back with our fifth Field Note, recorded from inside our kitchen in Mariposa, looking out at the rain coming down. The house is quiet, Nic took the kids to preschool. I’m feeling super cozy in my favorite wool socks.

I know many of us are in a tender space heading into December. If you’re feeling the weight right now from the holidays, the year ending, all the expectations—you’re not alone.

I’ve been stressed lately by a project I created, pushing through even though my body has been telling me to stop. This morning I hit a breaking point and finally asked: What’s keeping me from quitting?

In this Field Note we’ll explore:

* Why we keep pushing when our bodies tell us otherwise

* How guilt and shame keep us locked in commitments that aren’t serving us

* Discover how the path getting narrower is actually a sign of healing

* Practice identifying what you might need to release

Let’s take a breath together and see what needs to shift.

With deep care and gratitude,Ashley

I’m coming to you from our kitchen table today. The house is finally quiet after Solomon’s seventh birthday party this past Saturday. The rain is pounding outside, our second storm of the fall. I can already see tiny green shoots pushing through the earth.

It’s been three years since my book Permission to Rest came out. For so much of my life, I believed rest was something you earned—a reward after working hard, something that happened far in the future.

But the land here is teaching me something different. The horses taking midday naps without earning them. The oaks dropping their leaves. Rest isn’t separate from living—it’s woven throughout everything.

In this 10-minute Field Note I explore—

* How rest can be a rhythm, not a reward

* What the horses teach me about natural pauses

* A guided breathing practice we’ll do together

* Finding rest in the small moments between tasks

With gratitude,Ashley

💬 Group Check-In

Please join us in the comments if you feel called to share.What would change if you gave yourself permission to rest right now, without earning it first?

Dear friends,I’m back with our third Field Note, recorded from the southeast corner of our deck, listening for woodpeckers in the bull pines. The wind had just quieted, the sun tucked behind clouds, and I realized how much I’ve missed this audio connection with you.

These last few weeks have felt heavy. Personal, global, everyday—it’s been a lot. Sometimes time stretches endlessly, and I wonder: how do we breathe when the future feels impossible?

In this Field Note, I share a simple practice I first learned in recovery: living one hour at a time. It’s not about productivity—it’s about survival, about finding gentleness when life feels too big to hold.

Together we’ll:

* Try a grounding practice for the hour ahead

* Explore why lowering the bar can be radical care

* Remember we don’t need to carry the whole week

This practice has carried me through foster care, adoption, family upheaval, and running the horse rescue. It’s one I return to again and again.

Let’s take a breath together and see what this hour needs from us.

With warmth,Ashley

💬 Group Check-In

What could you set aside this hour to feel a little more present?

I’d love to connect with you. x

I'm back with our second Field Note, recorded from the south corner of our deck where the morning sun creates this perfect pocket of warmth. You'll hear wind through the oaks, maybe a rescue kitten named Yarrow, and birds who seem to be enjoying their morning in the foothills!

Last month, we finalized our daughter Freya's adoption. After almost two years of uncertainty, she legally became part of our family. The very next day? Our all five of us got sick.

In the past, stress like this would have seized my psoas and thrown out my back. This time, I just got a cold. Progress looks mighty different these days.

In this 10-minute Field Note I explore—

* Learning to listen to my body

* Sickness as a portal to slowing down

* A short guided practice we'll do together

* One simple question to ask your body

Until next time, Ashley

P.S. This Field Note is free for everyone. Future recordings will be part of our paid community. If you're ready for more of these slower conversations, consider becoming a paid member.

Today marks the beginning of something new, a little project that has been on my heart for a while. I'm calling it "Field Notes"—spontaneous voice recordings captured in the quiet in-between moments of life: watching the horses graze, sitting under the oak trees, breathing in the momentary stillness amidst the wild and intense chaos of family life.

You won't get careful editing and polished production here, but you will get intimate reflections that feel like a calm in the storm. Field Notes are recordings from real life: no studio, no fancy mics, no edits.

Field Notes as Slow Media

In a world of 30-second reels and endless scrolling, Field Notes invite you into a different rhythm. These 10-minute recordings (this first one is longer due to the intro!) ask something of you that might feel unfamiliar, or perhaps uncomfortable, at first: your sustained attention.

We might think we're good at listening because we consume so much audio content. But when our attention is fragmented across dozens of quick clips, are we really listening?

Research shows that deep listening—not the kind we normally do in everyday life—changes our brains. It strengthens our capacity for sustained attention, deepens empathy, and activates areas associated with presence and connection. When we practice holding our attention to one voice, one story, one moment, we're building a muscle that modern life desperately needs.

Field Notes are my offering to you, a practice of presence through deep listening, an antidote to our fragmented attention economy, and perhaps most importantly, genuine connection without the performance of social media.

The first Field Note

I recorded our very first Field Note just after sunrise. I sat on our deck, looking out at the horses grazing below.

Inside, I explore:

* Why I'm drawn to this more spontaneous format

* The intimacy that comes from voice that written words can't capture

* What my horses are teaching me about presence and being a beginner

* The freedom that comes from letting go of perfectionism

My greatest hope for this project is that it offers us permission to be unfinished.

Within each Field Note lives a question: What if the wisdom we seek lives in these unplanned pauses… in the moments we miss while focusing on what's wrong, what's missing, or beyond our control?

I’m already excited for next time.

Onward with love,Ashley

P.S. While today's Field Note is my gift to everyone, future recordings will be part of our paid community space. If you're ready for slower, more intentional listening, consider upgrading your subscription. And yes - Apple Podcasts and Spotify coming soon!

💬 Group Check-In

I hope you’ll take a moment to reflect in the comments. I read every one. x

1. Where in your life are you avoiding something because you can’t do it perfectly?

2. What might open up if you allowed yourself to be a beginner again?