The short version
I'm Ryan Today. I'm a father, a musician, an artist, a field philosopher, and a lifelong tinkerer with human experience.
Music is the center right now. I spent decades making it in the leftover hours, carrying a ukulele through conferences, hotel hallways, sidewalks, rehearsals, and whatever room happened to be available. Twenty years after almost releasing an EP, I'm finally giving the music the room.
Around that center, I keep following questions about sensing, attention, adaptation, play, physics, physiology, culture, and what happens when people become more able to notice their own experience. Some of that work has become Bioplasticity. Some becomes a talk, a song, an experiment, a strange little world, or private work with one person.
The easiest way to understand me is probably to look at what I keep doing: make things, follow the thread, pay attention to what actually happens, and invite people in.
I’ve also lived a long, rich professional chapter as a life coach and neuroplasticity coach. I’ve worked privately with people around attention, behavior, perception, adaptation, difficult transitions, and the gap between what a person understands intellectually and what they can actually inhabit. That work still lives in me. It is simply no longer the box I need the rest of my life to fit inside.
How a didgeridoo changed everything
Years ago I picked up a didgeridoo because busking paid better than asking. I had no idea it would become one of the first instruments that taught me to experience physiology from the inside.
Circular breathing made breath, pressure, vibration, rhythm, resonance, tongue position, attention, and state impossible to separate. The instrument turned abstract ideas into sensations I could work with directly.
That curiosity kept branching. Sound led to fascia and the tongue. Balance opened questions about proprioception. Interoception changed the way I thought about attention. Infrared work pulled me deeper into heat transfer, tissue, and bioenergetics. One question kept opening another.
I still work that way. I care about mechanisms and evidence, but I care just as much about what survives contact with lived experience. I want to know what we can observe, what we can test, and what would change our mind.
Why “field philosopher”
Researcher is true, but too narrow. Coach is true, but too narrow. Musician is true, but it doesn't explain why I can happily spend hours tracing a question across physics, physiology, psychology, sociology, culture, and play.
Field philosopher is the closest language I've found for the way I work. I go into the field, sometimes literally, sometimes through my own body, sometimes through another person's problem, and I follow the pattern across scales. I build maps when maps help. I discard them when experience says they are wrong.
That is the posture behind the Six Inputs, the work on human sensing, the questions I ask about time, and the evolving map I call Bioplasticity.
I wake as an artist.
I wake as an artist and go to sleep as an artist. Everything else is a room that art walks into.
Sometimes that room is IMP Circus, a psychedelic horror circus where the music gets to stay dark, theatrical, and strange. Sometimes it is Pan Eternal. Sometimes it is a foam weapon and the words HONK TO SPAR on the side of a van. Sometimes it is a room at Eminent Center. Sometimes it is the larger work of Circus Folk.
I stopped needing all of those rooms to become one brand. They are allowed to be different because I am the continuity between them.
What I'm doing now
I'm finding out what happens when the music stops getting the leftover hours.
If you want to help make that possible, you can join my inner world. If you want me in a room, on a stage, beside a project, or working privately with you, book Ryan.
Everything else can keep becoming.