The Man Without a Title

Strip away "architect," "contractor," "consultant." What's left?

There was a time when I introduced myself by what I built.

By the product.

By the title on a card.

Architect.

Contractor.

Consultant.

Each name fit for a while, until it didn't.

Each carried its own armor and its own weight.

Somewhere along the way, I noticed that when the titles fell away,

So did the noise.

No clients to satisfy.

No roles to defend.

Just the work,

the breath,

and the stillness before either begins.

It's an unsettling quiet at first.

When you no longer have a Title that earns instant understanding.

The world tilts, people ask, "So what do you do?"

And you hesitate not from confusion, but from honesty.

Because what you do isn't who you are.

You build, design, teach, and guide, but beneath all of it, you are.

The craftsman before the craft.

The maker before the making.

The builder before the build.

I think of my father, Barney.

He never had a title.

Yet everyone needed him to fix, to create, to solve.

He was known not by position, but by presence.

And now, years later, I see the same happening to me.

Work finds me through trust, not through title.

And maybe that's the truest inheritance he could've given me.

Titles can open doors, but they can also close possibilities.

To be untitled is to be infinite again,

to stand at the workbench of life

with empty hands and a quiet mind,

ready to begin without needing to prove.

Perhaps peace begins when you no longer desire to be introduced.

Field Note:

The truest title is the one that doesn't need saying.