What is it? It is life. Even - and especially - your life.

Another way to say it is that it’s not only or even primarily about you.

The fundamental presupposition of The Christian Life is that there is one God and that we are not Him. Ergo, we are not the center of the world, and our existence, standards, and desires are not of primary importance. Our goal is to lead a Christ-centered life, not a self-centered one. A life that says “Thy will be done,” not “My will be done.”

How does this apply to wellness and the pursuit of a good life? When our understanding is distorted and our priorities are out of order, we and our way of life begin to become disintegrated, leading to dysfunction and degeneration. In other words, when we believe wrongly and live wrongly, the quality of our life suffers, and we suffer with it.

We can’t be truly and abidingly well if we’re not seeking and submitting to the will of God in all places, at all times, and in all ways. The more perfectly we do so, the more perfectly well we’ll be. The less perfectly, the less well.

If you want to live an unfulfilling life, make it about you. Seek your will first. Submit to your own desires and lean on your own understanding. Place your needs above everyone else’s. Serve yourself.

If you want to live a fulfilling life, make it about Christ. Seek His will first. Submit to His desires for you and lean on His wisdom. Place his calling for you above your cares and serve Him rather than yourself.

Make Christ the “why” to your “what.” Be a good steward of your physical and mental health and fitness, of your assets, opportunities, responsibilities, and relationships, not simply for the sake of doing so or for your own pride, but to better show your love for God and your neighbor by living a life of service. I’m not claiming that this is easy. It’s simple, but it’s not easy. If it were, we’d all be saints. But it is needful, and it is beneficial. Our lives and legacies will be the better for it.

Wellness begins with right orientation, not self at the center, but Christ. Only a Christ-centered life is rightly centered. And only a rightly centered life becomes a life of blessedness.

- Remy

In The Compass, we name the pattern with precision:

The Behavior Loop

Stimulus - Sensation - Response - Result

1. Stimulus is the spark.
   It might be a raised voice. A scent. A time of day.
   Or something quieter—fatigue, loneliness, a familiar ache.
   The loop always begins with something.

2. Sensation is what your body does next.
   Tightness in the chest. Heat in the face. Hollow in the stomach.
   It’s quick. It’s visceral. It’s ancient.
   And it narrows your freedom to what you’ve rehearsed.

3. Response is your reaction.
   You yell. You isolate. You scroll. You eat.
   Or, you breathe. You pause. You pray. This is the fork. The test. The turning point.

4. Result is the outcome of the response. This is what either cements the old loop or begins to carve a new one.

Repetition without reflection becomes bondage. And that bondage robs us of the life that God intends for us by trapping us in well-grooved pattern rooted in spiritual illness. Bondage to unhealthy eating habits, to sedentary or self-destructive lifestyles, to idleness and excess and ills of all shapes and sizes. You don’t need a new personality, you need a new pattern. And that patten is shaped one repetition at a time.

WEEKLY COMPASS QUESTION:

“What loop am I most often caught in and what response could I begin to practice instead?”

TRAIL TASK: The Pattern Audit

1. Track one loop for 3 consecutive days.

2. Write down: the trigger, the bodily sensation, your usual response, and the result.

3. Prayerfully choose one alternative response: something simple, virtuous, and repeatable.

4. Practice that response—on purpose, even once. That’s the break in the chain.

You’re not condemned to your old reactions.
But you are called to watchfulness.
And loops can be rewired—when you stop reacting and start responding.
Not just by effort.
But by grace.

Until next time -
In Christ - Engage. Adapt. Overcome.
- Remy

The endgame is more than just a “good life.” It’s ‘Eudaimonia’, an ancient Greek term that means “Good Fate” and is often given the bland translation “happiness.” A more fitting translation to my mind is Blessedness. Blessedness goes beyond happiness. It’s marked by an abiding sense of fulfillment. Of peace, even amid chaos.

As to fate itself, your fate is more than just the quality of your life; it’s also the quality of your legacy.

Life + Legacy = Fate

Your legacy is what you leave behind. Your name. Your gifts. Your reputation. Your legacy is the echo of your life. You can have a “good” life - at least from a material standpoint - and not a good legacy. You can be prosperous in this life and still end up with a name that suffers in history and a soul that suffers in eternity. The condition of your name and your soul here and hereafter is what constitutes your fate.

Why do all of this? Why seek Wellness? Blessedness? Well or Blessed for what? To what end? To serve. That is, to serve God, God in Christ. Because our life isn’t for ourselves alone. We’re served to serve. We’re blessed to bless. And how can we most clearly serve God? By serving our fellow man. That service becomes the reason to manage our sleep and our diet. It becomes the reason to stay physically and mentally active, to be mindful, intentional, planful, and prepared. To remain connected to and caretakers of nature, to love our neighbors, and to work hard. We do these things in service to God out of love for him. And we serve and love Him because he first loved and served us, not least of all by giving us life.

This is, for me, inescapable. And by this I mean the presence of Christ in my work. He is my foundation. Not only real, but more real than I am. And to set out to discuss a life of true and abiding wellness, let alone a life of blessedness, without reference and deferral to the very author of life is simply not possible.

The effect of this is the effect. For those who are repelled by the name Christ or who hold that one’s “religious life” is somehow separable from the rest of their life - which is of course nonsensical - nothing can be done. I’m not the mouth for those ears. I can only confess the name of Jesus and do my work in acknowledgement of and commitment to Him.

I’ve long been walking a labyrinth in search of myself and my purpose, and after a long and circuitous path filled with detours and dead ends, I’ve finally begun to find it. What was needed was need was not only a destination, but also a compass. Not only a what and a why, but also a how. By God’s grace, I seem to have those elements now in hand; I have a compass, a map, and a manifesto. My proximate “why” is that I believe healthy people help people and unhealthy people hurt people. The healthier, the more well, I can help people to become, the more love, light, and life are spread. My ultimate “why” service to God in Christ, in this age and in the age to come.

That’s not to say that I’ve reached the top of my own mountain. I haven’t; not even close. In a way, I’ve only just begun to climb. My journey up to recent has been more subterranean. But now I have a sense that I’ve reached the surface and am climbing the mountain’s face. Still, I’ve tread a far portion of ground and have things of value to share.

None of this is a finished product. Nor am I. This is as much of a living process as I am a living person. There was a time when that being the case would’ve been cause for hesitation. Now I find it exciting. The primary tools have been forged. The essentials are in hand. Now it’s a matter of experimenting with all of the ways they can be applied, seeing what needs to be added, and what can be taken away.

That’s not a lack of preparedness, that’s life. We engage, we adapt, and - by Christ - we overcome.

That’s the path forward: It’s onward and upward. For Him, in Him, with Him, by Him, together.

Until next time.

- Remy

Strategies are the seventh Anchor in The Compass.
They aren’t about hype or hustle culture.
They’re about order. Rhythm. Sequence.
They’re about rightly applying your effort, so the fruit matches the labor.

Most people don’t fail for lack of passion; they fail for lack of planning and the follow-through that planning fosters.

Strategy doesn’t mean rigidity.
It means discernment.
It means sequence, not chaos.

It means:

• Acting in time, not just on impulse

• Structuring your days around what is essential, not merely urgent

• Saying no, so your yes means something

Weekly Compass Question

Where in my life am I working hard, but wandering aimlessly?

Choose one area where your energy feels wasted.

Step back.
Strip it down.
Build a pattern that is simple, ordered, and sustainable.

Direction determines destination.
And direction begins with design.

Until next time -

Engage. Adapt. Overcome.
- Remy

Surroundings are the sixth Anchor in The Compass.
Not just walls and furniture.
But rhythms. Inputs. Relationships.
The atmosphere you live in, scroll in, eat in, and pray in.

And here’s the thing most men miss: Environments don’t ask for permission.

They shape you by default.
They whisper the same message every day—until you start believing it.

You will eventually conform to the environment you live in, or you will leave it.

Discipline is not superhuman.

It’s structural.

It’s what happens when you build an environment that makes good choices the path of least resistance.

That means:

• Curating your physical space

• Setting boundaries on digital input

• Redesigning your routine

Weekly Compass Question

What environments am I currently immersed in and how are they shaping me, silently?

Trail Task

Audit your daily terrain.

Pick one space - your room, your car, your phone - and reset it.

Declutter. Simplify. Signal who you’re becoming.

Make it impossible to forget your standards.

You cannot become a new man in an old environment.
At some point, your surroundings must rise to meet your standards.

Make your environment do the heavy lifting.
So even when your willpower fades, your system holds.

Until next time -

Engage. Adapt. Overcome.
- Remy

Anchor Focus: Supplies

Supplies are the fifth Anchor in The Compass.
They’re not symbolic.
They’re not lofty.
They’re logistical.

Food. Tools. Gear. Systems. Space.
Margin.

And far too often, men confuse moral failure with logistical failure. They beat themselves up for inconsistency when the real issue is that they were under-supplied.

You can’t build a disciplined morning if your sleep is trash.
You can’t fuel your body well if your kitchen is a graveyard of excuses.
You can’t grow in your faith if the Word is buried beneath your notifications.
You can’t work with focus if your space is draining your attention.

No prepped food.
No designated space.
No time margin.
No reminders.
No friction-reducing setup.
Just willpower, and then guilt when it buckles.

You can’t win without provisioning.

Supplies don’t define your strength.
But they do reveal whether you’re taking the mission seriously.

Weekly Compass Question

Where am I repeatedly failing, not for lack of desire, but for lack of preparation?

Trail Task

Pick one area of daily life you keep stumbling in.
Now, stock it.
Just like that.

Prep the food.
Lay out the clothes.
Clear the space.
Set the cue.
Anchor the win.

Because small provisions make large obedience possible.

Set yourself up as if you intend to follow through.

Because you do.
And because you will.

Until next time -

Engage. Adapt. Overcome.
—Remy

Resources from the Trail

• Atomic Habits by James Clear (again, yes—it’s that useful)

• Tool Suggestion: Pre-packed “Go Bag” for your most common goal (gym, writing, Scripture, etc.)

Skills are the fourth Anchor in The Compass.
Not personality traits.
Not mystical powers granted at birth.

Just trainable capacities that either reinforce your identity or quietly sabotage it.

Every time you say:

“I can’t stay focused.”
“I’m just bad with money.”
“I don’t know how to manage my time.”

What you’re saying is: “I haven’t trained that yet.”

We live in a culture obsessed with feelings:
Feeling confident.
Feeling aligned.
Feeling ready.

But confidence doesn’t come before performance; it comes after practice.

When I started rebuilding, I wanted better outcomes.
But I hadn’t trained the mechanics.
So I kept spinning—ashamed, frustrated, stuck.

Until I reframed it:
Not as a flaw.
As a training plan.

Because if it’s a skill, it’s not permanent.
It’s not personal.
It’s just unpracticed.

Weekly Compass Question

What am I currently calling a flaw that might simply be a skill I haven’t trained yet?

Trail Task

This week, pick one area where you feel stuck.

Now ask yourself:
If this were a skill I could train, what would the first rep look like?

Then do it. Once. No perfection, just repetition.

Because repetition reshapes reality.

Until next time - Engage. Adapt. Overcome.

- Remy

Anchor Focus: Stories

Stories are the third Anchor in The Compass.
They aren’t the narratives you post.
They’re the ones that play quietly in the background.
They’re operating systems.
And your system runs, whether or not it’s aligned with truth.

Stories form early, from patterns: Of parenting, praise, and pain.

And then they automate.

They influence how you see the world and act in it, how you treat others, and how you treat yourself. Unless you pause to examine the script, you’ll keep playing the same role in the same story, even if it’s one you didn’t choose.

Weekly Compass Question

What internal story do I default to, especially when I’m tired or triggered?

Trail Task

This week, listen for your story.

Notice what you say to yourself in moments of fatigue or frustration.

Name whose voice it sounds like.

Rewrite one damaging narrative into something more honest, not just positive.

Then, act as if it were true.

Resources from the Trail

Book: The Soul’s Code by James Hillman

You’re not struggling with who you are so much as the story of who you’re telling yourself that you are, or should be. Tell yourself a better story. That isn’t pretending, it’s practicing.

Until next time - Engage. Adapt. Overcome.
- Remy

We ask:

• “Why can’t I stay consistent?”

• “Why do I keep snapping at the people I care about?”

• “Why do I feel numb even when things are going well?”

The issue isn’t usually in your schedule.
It’s in your state.

State is the second Anchor in The Compass.
It’s not about mood swings or daily emotions.
It’s your internal operating condition—your physical and psychological baseline at any given moment.

Your state determines, among other things, how you interpret challenges and how you respond to stress. You can have the clearest goals and best habits in the world ,
but your system will crack under pressure if your internal state is unstable.

Your state may not be your fault, but it is your responsibility. That leaves you with two options: Ignore your state and eventually burn out, or track and train your state.

Weekly Compass Question

What internal state have I been operating from most consistently, and is it helping or hindering who I’m becoming?

Trail Task

Pick one daily state check-in practice:

• Rate your state 1–10 each morning and evening

• Journal your triggers and recoveries

• Add 5 minutes of intentional calm (e.g., breathwork, nature, prayer, silence)

Track it for 7 days, note the trend, and adjust accordingly.

Resources from the Trail

Book: ‘The Body Keeps Score’ by Bessel van der Kolk

Someone in the right state becomes unshakeable. Not because life gets easier, but because he’s finally grounded enough to endure it well. If adjusting what’s around you isn’t working, start adjusting what’s inside you.

Until next time - Engage. Adapt. Overcome.
- Remy

Anchor Spotlight: Standards

Standards are the first of the Seven Anchors—because they govern the rest.
They set the baseline for what’s acceptable what’s required, and what’s non-negotiable

They are not intentions.
They are not affirmations.
They’re the unspoken laws your life obeys—especially when no one’s watching.

When I look back on the lowest points of my life, it’s easy to focus on what I lost:

Relationships.
Money.
Time.
Peace.

But those were symptoms.
The root?
I stopped demanding things from myself.

And when your standards drop, your story always follows.

You don’t rise to a standard overnight.
You enforce it—daily.

Our character isn’t forged in big, cinematic moments.
It’s forged in the tiny, unseen choices that stack over time.

Standards are those choices—codified.
They become your internal law.

And if you don’t write them, life will.

Weekly Compass Question

What standard am I currently living by—not the one I claim, but the one I’ve been tolerating?

Trail Task

Pick one low standard you’ve allowed to linger.
Name it.
Fix it.

Then practice enforcing the higher one for seven days—no exceptions, no excuses.

Resources from the Trail

Book: Can’t Hurt Me by David Goggins — on grit, self-respect, and radical self-accountability

Sticky note exercise: Write the standard. Post it on your mirror. Read it every morning.

You don’t need more inspiration.
You need a higher standard.

One that can carry weight.
One that tells the truth.
One you can respect in the mirror.

Raise it. Enforce it.
Let everything else catch up.

Until next time -

Engage. Adapt. Overcome.
- Remy

It was lived experience—distilled into direction.

Now, you’ve seen that direction begin to take shape.

Being. Doing. Having. Sharing.

Four Coordinates.

One map.

The Four Coordinates Recap

Being:

The person you’re becoming when no one’s watching.

Not your image. Not your intentions.

Your trajectory.

Doing:

Your habits, your commitments, your patterns.

The things that reveal what you’re truly loyal to.

Not what you say you value—what your behavior proves.

Having:

The external reality that reflects your internal choices.

Peace or chaos.

Order or erosion.

Support or sabotage.

What you possess tells the truth.

Sharing:

The wake your life leaves behind.

Because you’re always transferring something.

Legacy isn’t a future concept.

It’s a present pattern.

These Coordinates aren’t a checklist.

They’re a terrain scan.

When someone is stuck, I don’t start with motivation.

I start here.

Nine times out of ten, the answers are already in the pattern.

The Compass didn’t come from a textbook.

It came from a thousand moments of regret, silence, repentance, and reconstruction.

It’s not a product I made.

It’s the system I needed when my life fell apart.

And now, it’s the system I walk with.

Coach with.

Pass on - one Field Note at a time.

Next, we begin unpacking The Seven Anchors -

The internal and environmental levers that shape your behavior, direction, and results.

They’re how we move once we know where we are.

But first -

Ask yourself:

Which of the Four Coordinates feels weakest right now?

Where are you avoiding clarity because it would require a change?

That’s where your work begins.

That’s where our next phase takes root.

Weekly Compass Question:

Which of the Four Coordinates—Being, Doing, Having, Sharing—currently feels out of sync with the life you’re trying to build?

Trail Task:

Pick one Coordinate and perform a “terrain scan”:

• List three signs that it’s misaligned.

• Name one action that would bring it closer to center.
  Do it this week.

Resources from the Trail:

Book: ‘Essentialism’ by Greg McKeown

Until next week — Engage. Adapt. Overcome.

—Remy

After the business is built.
After the kids are grown.

But legacy doesn’t wait.
You’re already sharing.

With your words.
With your silence.
With your presence - or your absence.

Every day, something is being transferred - from you into the world around you.
Not one day. Today.

Sharing is the fourth Coordinate in The Compass.
It’s about more than “generosity.”
It’s about transmission.

What are you passing on?

• Into your home?

• Into your workplace?

• Into your friendships?

• Into the quiet moments, you don’t think anyone sees?

Because you don’t get to choose whether you share.
You only get to choose what.

For a long time, I shared anxiety.

Not intentionally. But it was always near — hovering in my tone, bleeding into my posture, filling the silence.

I often shared defensiveness, irritability, and reactivity.

Not because I wanted to.
But because I hadn’t learned how to stop.

Then - slowly, imperfectly - I started sharing things like faith, confidence, and stability.

Not because I mastered them (I still haven’t mastered them).
But because I practiced them. And that practice led to progress.

Sharing isn’t performance.
It’s not about looking inspirational.

It’s about being aligned —
So that what flows out of you reflects what’s been built within you.

Sometimes that’s a conversation.
Sometimes a contribution.
Sometimes just showing up when it matters most.

Weekly Compass Question:

What am I currently sharing with the people closest to me — not in intention, but in impact?

Trail Task:
Choose one trait you want to transmit this week — then practice it until it flows out of you naturally.

Anchor Spotlight

Anchor Focus: Standards

You’re always setting standards — even if you don’t say them out loud.

How you speak.
How you show up.
How you respond under pressure.

This week, make sure your standard is one you’d want passed on.

Resources from the Trail

Book: The Art and Science of Connection - Kasley Killam

Tool: Legacy Audit (journal: What values am I currently transmitting, on repeat?)

The final Coordinate isn’t about how much you give.
It’s about whether what you live is worth passing on.

Ask yourself:

If someone followed me for a year and copied me, what kind of person would they become?

Make sure the answer is someone you'd be proud to know.

Until next week -
Engage. Adapt. Overcome.
- Remy

It feels materialistic.

Too worldly. Too shallow.

But it’s not.

Having is the third Coordinate in The Compass - and it’s not about greed.

It’s about stewardship.

What you have in your life - physically, emotionally, relationally, financially - is evidence.

It reveals the quality of your habits.

It reflects your standards, the stories you tell yourself, and the strategies you live by.

It shows what you’ve committed to.

And what you’ve neglected.

And if we’re being honest, many people have less of what they want and more of what they don’t.

Cluttered calendars.

Overdrafted accounts.

Shallow relationships.

Constant fatigue.

That’s not a coincidence.

It’s a result.

I used to think the lack in my life was bad luck.

Wrong timing. Unfair circumstances.

But the truth?

It was misalignment and mismanagement.

I wasn’t aligning my habits with the outcomes I claimed to want.

And I wasn’t managing what I said I valued.

I wanted peace, but I allowed noise.

I wanted structure, but I operated on impulse.

I wanted to feel refreshed but repeated exhausting patterns.

What I had was the byproduct of what I’d been committed to — consciously or not.

What did I actually possess?

And what needed to be reclaimed, repaired, or released?

Having isn’t about hoarding.

It’s not about trophies or titles.

It’s about traction.

It’s about whether your external world reflects your internal commitments.

It’s about building a life that can elevate you — not just one you can endure.

This week, scan your environment:

• What around you affirms your values?

• What undermines them?

• Where are you overextended, under-resourced, or avoiding ownership?

Because if you want to build something that lasts — health, wealth, relationships —

You can’t just want it.

And you can’t just wing it.

(Believe me, I’ve tried.)

You have to plan for it.

You have to work for it.

You have to support it and sustain it.

That’s the quiet work of Having.

It’s not sexy.

But it is central.

And it requires a system.

Because without one, your outcomes will be more accidental than intentional.

Compass Question:

What am I currently neglecting that, if I stewarded it better, would change everything else?

Trail Task:

Choose one neglected area in your life — your space, finances, your energy.

Commit to a 7-day stewardship ritual. Track the impact.

Anchor Spotlight

Anchor Focus: Supplies

Your tools help you to operate according to your standards.

Clean the kitchen. Organize your calendar. Refill your supplements. Revisit your budget.

When your environment is in order, your behavior has a place to land.

Resources from the Trail

Book: Essentialism by Greg McKeown

Until next week —

Engage. Adapt. Overcome.

- Remy

Doing is the second Coordinate in The Compass.
It follows Being — because what you do flows from who you believe you are.
But belief alone doesn’t build anything.
Action does.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth:
You are already committed.
You’re just not always committed to the things you claim to care about.

• You say you value health — but you commit to skipping workouts.

• You say you want presence — but you commit to distraction.

• You say you want clarity — but you commit to the same tired loops.

Want to know what you’re really committed to?

Look at your habits.
Look at your calendar.
Look at what you show up for without fail.

That’s your real commitment.
Not your intention.
Not your vision board.
Your default.

Most people fail not because they’re lazy — but because they overreach.

They try to overhaul everything at once.
And when the motivation dips — they quit.

That’s not personal failure.
That’s poor planning.

Doing needs urgency and accountability — but more than anything, it needs sustainability.
Your doing has to be doable.

When I was rebuilding, I started with three commitments:

• Wake up early — on purpose, not by accident.

• Train three days a week — no matter how I felt.

• Write every day — one sentence or ten pages, didn’t matter.

That was it.

Over time, those three acts gave me a foundation to build on.
But it took time.
More time than it should have — because I took longer to do what mattered most:
Be consistent.

I could tell you I nailed it every day. But I didn’t.
I missed. A lot.
But I kept coming back.

And the more I came back, the more consistent I became.
And the more consistent I became, the more embedded those simple habits became.

This week, name one consistent behavior that you’re fully committed to.
Not three. Just one.

Start small.
In fact — make it minimal.

Because even when it’s small, you’ll still miss.
That’s human.
So build it small enough that coming back is easy.

The more consistent you are, the more sticky and effective the behavior will become.

Habits don’t just build results.
They craft identity.
They tell you what kind of person you’ll become — if you just keep showing up.

Weekly Compass Question:

What are you actually committed to — in behavior, not belief?

Trail Task:
Pick one small action you’re ready to commit to.
Repeat it daily for one week without fail.
Write it. Track it. Protect it.

Anchor Spotlight

Anchor Focus: Strategies

Change isn’t about motivation.
It’s about method.

Strategy means deciding how small you’ll start — and sticking with it long enough for it to matter.

This week: Think less about what to do and more about how you’ll make it stick.

Resources from the Trail

Atomic Habits by James Clear

Until next time —
Engage. Adapt. Overcome.
— Remy

You don’t just need better habits.
You need a clearer identity.

Because no matter how hard you work, you will never consistently act in ways that contradict who you believe you are.

Being comes first.

It’s the first Coordinate in The Compass for a reason.

Before Doing, Having, or Sharing — there’s Being.

And that question isn’t:

“What are you doing with your life?”

It’s deeper:

Who are you becoming?

Not who do you want to be.
Not who do people think you are.
Not who you used to be before things fell apart.

Who are you becoming right now, decision by decision?

When I was rebuilding, I had to face this:

My actions weren’t out of alignment with my values.
They perfectly aligned with my real values — the ones I lived, not the ones I claimed.

The late nights.
The angry silences.
The numbing.
The procrastination.
The shortcuts.

They weren’t anomalies.
They were evidence.

Being isn’t static.
It’s not a trait. It’s a direction. A trend.

And if you’re not defining it deliberately,
you’re becoming something by default.

This is living (and being) by accident rather than by intent.

This week, I’m asking you to look in the mirror —
Not for flaws, but for evidence.
Not what you say you value.
But what your schedule, your habits, and your reactions reveal.

Because clarity begins when denial ends.
And you can’t build a new life while lying to the person you are now.

Ask yourself:

What traits am I cultivating, consciously or not?

What kind of person would my habits build in five years?

Is this who I want to become?

If not — change doesn’t begin with action.
It begins with identity.

You don’t act your way into a new life.
You become your way there.

This is the work.
The quiet, foundational, unsexy work of Becoming.

It’s not for the ‘Gram.
It’s where The Compass starts.
And where most people stall.

But you’re not most people.

You’re reading this.
You’re in the climb.

Keep going.

Weekly Compass Question: Who are you becoming — by default or by design?

Trail Task: Watch one repeated behavior today. Ask: “What story is this behavior telling about who I am?”

Resource from the Trail

Ego Is the Enemy by Ryan Holiday — on killing the false self so the real one can rise.

Until next week —
Engage. Adapt. Overcome.
— Remy

That’s where The Compass begins.

Everything you’re chasing — internally or externally — lives in one of four domains.

These are the mountains you’re already trying to climb — whether you’ve named them or not:

• Being — Who are you becoming?

• Doing — How are you behaving consistently?

• Having — What are you building or stewarding?

• Sharing — How are you connecting and contributing?

Everything you want lives here.
And everything you’re avoiding lives here, too.

When I was at my lowest —
Sleeping in a spare room.
Ashamed of my choices.
Numb to the future.

I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.

• I wasn’t becoming the man I respected.

• I wasn’t doing what I said mattered.

• I didn’t have peace, structure, or dignity.

• I wasn’t sharing anything I’d want others to imitate.

That was rock bottom.
But it was also a starting line.

These Four Coordinates became a way to orient myself again.

In the weeks ahead, I’ll unpack all four.
We’ll mark them.
Map them.
Move through them.

Because most people don’t fail from lack of effort.
They fail from lack of clarity.

Next week, we start getting clear.

What to Expect from Field Notes

This entry sets the tone.
Going forward, each edition of Field Notes will follow a rhythm — grounded in reflection, guided by systems, and focused on movement.

Here’s what you can expect each week:

• Field Reflection – A lived insight drawn from the climb

• Weekly Compass – One focused question and a Trail Task to help you align and advance

• Anchor Spotlight – A look at one of the Seven Anchors shaping behavior and quality

• Resources from the Trail – A few tested tools, practices, or companions worth carrying

The aim isn’t noise or novelty.
It’s clarity.
Not content for content’s sake, but direction — for those climbing toward something that matters.

Thanks for reading.

Until next week —
Engage. Adapt. Overcome.

— Remy

You’ve seen me wrestle with faith, philosophy, identity, power, and purpose. You’ve witnessed me walk the line between discipline and decadence —between the pursuit of faith and the seduction of folly. But lines aren’t always meant to divide.

Sometimes, they form bridges.

Before The Compass, there was collapse. And collapse. And collapse. Before the framework, there was fallout. And before I became a guide, I was lost — unsure of where I was or how I got there.

I didn’t create The Compass in calm and clarity. I pieced it together in the wreckage and confusion —after divorce, degeneracy, disappointment, disillusionment, and failure. Lots and lots of failure.

It wasn’t theory. It was a necessity.
I didn’t need motivation. I needed structure.
I didn’t need vision. I needed traction.

So, I started mapping:

• What matters?

• What doesn’t?

• What moves me forward?

• What drags me down?

• What kind of man am I becoming—and would I respect him?

The Compass wasn’t a new direction. It was (and is) a structure that emerged from years of asking the same questions louder, deeper, and more honestly.

What emerged was a blueprint.

The Compass (in brief)

• The Four Coordinates: Being, Doing, Having, Sharing — the terrain of a meaningful life.

• The Seven Anchors: Standards, States, Stories, Skills, Supplies, Surroundings, Strategies — the tools to navigate that terrain.

• Behavior Loops: Because habits don’t change until you understand what drives them.

Beneath it all is the belief that behavior and quality aren’t random.

They’re recursive.
They can be mapped.
They can be moved.

Why ‘Field Notes’ Exists

Field Notes is where I chronicle the climb:
Structured by systems.
Directed by faith.
Focused on how we live it — in the terrain of real life.

Each edition follows a simple rhythm:

• Field Reflection: A lived insight from the trail (Being, Doing, Having, or Sharing)
  

• Weekly Compass: A focused question and Trail Task to map your own ascent
  

• Anchor Spotlight: Practical observations from one of the Seven Anchors
  

• Resources from the Trail: Tools, practices, and companions worth carrying

"Unhealthy people hurt people, and healthy people help people.
The more people I help, the more people they can help."

That’s my Why.

The Compass is how.

If you’ve known me before — welcome to what came after.
If this is your first read — welcome to what comes next.

Field Notes, weekly.

Until next week — Engage. Adapt. Overcome.

—Remy

A few days ago, I shared a short piece on Baptism. That post got me thinking about just how serious becoming part of God’s family is.

Our adoption into the family of God is no small thing. Nor is it a matter of mere words. It’s not a metaphor.

Rather than a figure of speech, it’s a matter of reality—one that is both “already” (in both a past and present sense) and “not yet.” It is a reality beyond our comprehension and our ability to comprehend; we are the children of God.

I’m not sure we truly appreciate what that means, not only in terms of our rights but also of our responsibilities. In searching for a way to drive the latter home, I considered a thought experiment. Imagine that, as an adopted child of God, you bore the last name Christ. Imagine that became your surname at baptism.

How well would your life honor your family name from that point forward? Imagine that everywhere you went and in everything you did, you were carrying that name with you. How would that reflect upon our Father? How would that reflect upon our Lord?

It’s a sobering thought. My first reaction as I considered all this was how unworthy I felt. It felt wrong. Even dangerous. And not because I was usurping the place of Christ, somehow making myself Savior; I knew that wasn’t the nature of the exercise. Still, the idea of attaching that name to myself so closely and permanently was dreadful.

Why?

Because I know how far short I fall. I know the disrepute my bearing that name would bring to my God and my Lord.

When you’re part of a family, you’re part of the family. You’re not just part of the family on a particular day of the week in a particular place doing a particular thing. You’re in, period. All the time.

That’s something that we used to take seriously. Dishonoring your family name was a grave offense. While it’s not taken so seriously anymore - for good or ill is up to you - there’s still a remnant of the idea that persists between parents and their children. Most every parent realizes that their children’s behavior - rightly or wrongly reflects upon them.

Return to the idea of you and I bearing the last name ‘Christ.’ Imagine being that closely and permanently associated with that name, with the name Jesus Christ before which every knee shall bow and every tongue confess is Lord. Now imagine how our lives are perpetually reflecting upon Him. Affecting how His name is perceived. Honoring or dishonoring Him. Aligning with or diverging from His character.

Now imagine standing in front of Him. Not at any given moment but in every given moment. How might we feel? The quality of our lives would shape the quality of that experience. What would we wear confidently? What would we be inclined to try to conceal? What would fill us with a sense of holy pride? What would fill us with a sense of shame?

In short, how would we live if our last name were Christ? How near to that standard are we living now? What might we change? And, what are we waiting for?

We moderns tend to have a very diluted view of what baptism signifies. Yes, the act of baptism is a formalized turning over of our lives to Christ. And yes, it is by that turning over of ourselves to Christ that we become members of His body. But there is more to the story.

When you’re baptized into the body of Christ, you’re taking an oath of allegiance (becoming a citizen) and an oath of enlistment (becoming a soldier). That oath of loyalty to Christ and His kingdom implies a rejection of all that opposes them, chief among them being Satan and those principalities, powers, the rulers of the darkness of this world, and spiritual wickedness in the heavenly places (See Ephesians 6:12). We are, in taking that oath, turning the territory of our souls over to the kingdom and pledging to be bearers of light that serve to drive out the darkness wherever we go.

At one time, the rejection of that darkness was made explicit in the baptismal process.

In the early church, new converts entered a process of instruction as catechumens (Greek katēkhoumenos, “being instructed”), in which they were taught the basics of the Christian faith. Only upon clear understanding and conscious profession of faith would a catechumen be accepted for baptism. The earliest accounts of baptismal practice thus record not only a profession of faith, but the renunciation of Satan. Tertullian of Carthage writes,

“When we are going to enter the water, but a little before, in the presence of the congregation and under the hand of the bishop, we solemnly profess that we disown the devil, and his pomp, and his angels.”1

Thus, baptism was not only an affirmation of faith and a pledge of loyalty to the risen Lord, but a de facto declaration of war against all the forces of spiritual darkness. In the words of Dr. Michale Heiser:

In effect, baptism in New Testament theology is a loyalty oath, a public avowal of who is on the Lord’s side in the cosmic war between good and evil. But in addition to that, it is also a visceral reminder to the defeated fallen angels. Every baptism is a reiteration of their doom in the wake of the gospel and the kingdom of God. Early Christians understood the typology of this passage and its link back to the fallen angels of Genesis 6. Early baptismal formulas included a renunciation of Satan and his angels for this very reason. Baptism was — and still is — spiritual warfare.2

It’s important that we recapture this ancient conception of what baptism is and means. Not only to remind ourselves of the unseen conflict of which we are necessarily a part, but also to remind us that we have an active role to play in that conflict.

There are no dual citizens or civilians in the kingdom of God. We are, for the time being, in enemy territory. And it’s how we occupy ourselves until Christ’s return that will determine our eternal reward. We should live with that fact ever in mind so that when we stand before our Lord, He’ll say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

Resources -

‘Naked Bible Podcast’ on Baptism

Every Christian knows that the devil is a liar—the father of lies, as Jesus declares in John 8:44. But when we dig deeper into the original Greek language used in this passage, the significance becomes even clearer. The word "liar" in this verse is ‘pseustēs,’ and for "lie," it is ‘pseudos.’ These terms are rooted in ‘pseudo,’ which denotes something false, deceptive, or fake. In our time, this ancient understanding of deceit takes on a new and modern resonance.

We live in an age of pervasive fakery. Everywhere we look, we are confronted with pseudos—falsity. Fake news saturates our media, blurring the lines between truth and falsehood. Fake food fills our plates with artificial ingredients that leave us disconnected from nature’s bounty. We transform our appearances with filters, makeup, and plastic surgery, projecting a fake image that doesn’t reflect the real person behind the screen. Social media has become a playground for creating fake personas, allowing us to craft digital images of our lives that don’t match reality.

But it doesn’t end there. We live, work, and play under fake light in artificial environments that separate us from God’s creation. We spend countless hours in front of screens, consuming and participating in mediated realities—movies, TV shows, video games, and increasingly, AI-generated images and videos. These virtual worlds, these pseudos, are becoming harder and harder to distinguish from the real. And as technology progresses, they are becoming more ubiquitous, seductive, and dangerous.

This constant exposure to fakery impacts us deeply. Is it any wonder that many of us are disoriented, ill, and anxious? We instinctively know that something is off, that we’re adrift in a sea of lies, even if we can’t identify our discomfort's source. The more we interact with these false realities, the more we lose touch with the truth—the authentic. And at the spiritual level, this disconnection has profound implications.

When you understand, or are at least aware of, the spiritual substrate of our reality, you begin to discern what’s truly happening. We are living in a world that is not just full of lies but is constructed on pseudos. The god of this world, Satan, is actively working to blur the lines between truth and falsehood, between reality and deception. His tools—falsity, distortion, and deceit—are not new, but they are amplified and accelerated by modern technologies. The devil uses everything at his disposal to deceive, demoralize, and debase us. And the more immersed we become in these fake realities, the more susceptible we are to his lies.

The spiritual struggle we face isn’t just about resisting temptation or avoiding sin. It’s about recognizing the pervasive falsehoods around us and choosing to live in the truth. As Christians, we are called to see through the pseudos of this world and understand that the devil is constantly working to replace God’s truth with artificial, deceptive substitutes. But while the devil’s lies may be powerful, they are not omnipotent. He hasn’t been permanently defeated yet, but we know his defeat is inevitable.

In this age of falsehood and illusion, Christ stands out as the ultimate truth. He is the way, the truth, and the life (John 14:6). In a world filled with fake food, artificial environments, deceptive messaging, and false images, Christ offers us a solid foundation. His truth is unchanging, authentic, and life-giving. When we anchor ourselves in Christ, we are not swayed by the pseudos of the world. We can discern the fake from the real, the lies from the truth, because we know that Christ’s truth is not just a doctrine to be believed but a reality to be lived.

In a world where artificial intelligence, virtual realities, and media distortions are becoming increasingly sophisticated, it is more critical than ever to cling to what is real. The devil may be the father of lies, but we serve the Father of truth. Our task, as Christians, is to see through the lies and live in the truth of Christ.

So today, I am grateful that in a world saturated with pseudos, Christ is there for us as the way, the truth, and the life. He provides the clarity and authenticity we need to navigate this age of deception, grounding us in His eternal truth and helping us live in alignment with the reality He has created. In Christ, we are no longer lost in a sea of lies—we are anchored in the truth that sets us free.