From The Field
Writings, Voice Transmissions, Videos, and Insights
Writings, Voice Transmissions, Videos, and Insights
You are not the thoughts you think.
You are the field in which they arise.
To tune the observer is to align the field.
This is the first gate.
Awareness becomes architecture
when it is conscious of itself.
The moment you watch the watching,
the field collapses into coherence.
This is not abstraction.
It is scalar geometry in motion.
You are not reading this.
You are remembering it.
Many people think of “the observer” as a part of the mind—like a little voice in the background commenting on what’s happening. But the observer isn’t a mental character. It’s a function of consciousness itself.—a quality of presence that allows awareness to become selfaware.
Imagine a still lake reflecting the sky. The lake doesn’t have to “try” to reflect—it just needs to be still. The observer works the same way. When you become the space that notices, without judgment or effort, clarity begins to emerge. This isn’t something you do; it’s something you allow.
Not all awareness feels the same. Sometimes it’s tight and hyper-focused, like a flashlight in a dark room. Other times, it’s soft and wide, like sunlight filtering through trees. The quality of your
awareness changes how you interpret and experience life.
When your awareness is reactive or emotionally charged, even neutral events can feel threatening or overwhelming. But when your awareness is calm, open, and present, the same events are met with ease and insight. Tuning the observer is about recognizing the tone of your attention and gently adjusting it—like finding the right pitch in a song until everything feels resonant.
Modern physics has shown that observation isn’t neutral. In quantum experiments, particles behave differently depending on whether they’re being observed.
This might sound abstract, but you live this every day. When you focus on fear, more fear seems to show up. When you hold gratitude, life opens in subtle, supportive ways.
Your awareness doesn’t just record reality—it helps shape what becomes real. Like a spotlight on a stage, what you focus on gets illuminated, while the rest fades into shadow. The power of the observer is not in controlling outcomes, but in choosing where the light goes.
Sometimes people confuse clear observation with emotional detachment or numbing. But true witnessing isn’t avoidance—it’s deeper presence.
Bypassing says, “I don’t want to feel this, so I’ll rise above it.” Tuning the observer says, “I’m willing to feel this fully, but I don’t have to become it.” It’s like watching a storm from a sheltered hilltop. You see the rain. You hear the thunder. But you are not swept away.
This kind of presence brings healing because it allows emotions and thoughts to move through without getting stuck. It’s not distance—it’s depth.
There’s a subtle shift that happens when awareness becomes aware of itself. It’s a bit like catching your own reflection in a mirror—you suddenly realize you’re not just looking out at the world, you’re also looking back at yourself.
This recursive awareness is gentle and expansive. It often arises in meditation, stillness, or moments of awe. It doesn’t require effort—it’s more like noticing that you’re breathing, and then noticing that you’re noticing.
In that moment, the field of awareness stabilizes and deepens. You’re no longer just reacting—you’re resonating.
You don’t see the world the same way from every part of your being. Your body might feel fear, your emotions might react, your mind might try to analyze, while your deeper self remains calm. These are layers of perception.
You have access to multiple “views” of the same situation, depending on where you’re tuned in.
Think of it like shifting camera angles in a film—each one reveals something different. Tuning the observer means shifting into the layer that sees with the most coherence. Not to reject the others, but to harmonize them. Even just the introduction of this idea helps people understand that their first reaction isn’t the whole truth—it’s just the nearest lens.
When we say "tune the observer," we are pointing to a subtle but profound energetic truth: the quality of your awareness shapes the field of your experience.
Your observer—the part of you that watches thought, emotion, sensation—functions like the aperture of a lens. The wider, clearer, and more neutral the aperture, the more coherent the field it perceives and influences.
In quantum terms, the observer effect reveals that consciousness collapses potential into form. But beyond theory, this plays out in your daily life. The more reactive, contracted, or self-identified your awareness is, the more distorted your lived field becomes. Conversely, when your awareness becomes spacious and self-aware—when you notice that you are noticing—you invite harmonic collapse. The field stabilizes.
This is not detachment. It is clarity. It's like standing in the eye of a storm—where silence and vision coexist.
Musically, the tuned observer is like a perfectly calibrated resonance chamber: it amplifies signal, diminishes noise, and reveals the pattern in the chaos. You are not trying to control your thoughts—you are becoming the acoustic space in which they reorganize themselves.
The self is not one voice—it is a layered system. Body, emotion, thought, soul, Oversoul. Each layer perceives differently. What feels like truth from one level may look like distortion from another. When you tune the observer, you’re not escaping your reactions. You’re shifting the seat of awareness—from the contracted lens of ego identity to a wider field that sees through the lens of harmony and coherence.
This is sometimes called “scalar witnessing”—not because it’s spiritual, but because it moves across scales of perception. It’s the difference between being inside a storm and seeing the whole weather
system.
And from that vantage, something subtle emerges: you’re not just watching reality—you’re shaping how it crystallizes. Not through effort.Not through control. But through harmonic authorship. Authorship means your field becomes coherent enough that whatever passes through it reorganizes. You don’t push the pattern into being. You resonate it into a clarity that must be.
This is not bypass. This is participation without distortion.
This is an excerpt from my book Coherence Codes.
You are a note in the song the Codex sings, as it remembers itself through you.
~ Maria Elizabeth Smith
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