My notes look empty — how to get them back
Good news: your notes are still private and encrypted. What you’re seeing is a state issue. Pick the situation below that matches your screen and follow the steps.
A) You see the lock icon and the button says “Unlock”
- Click Unlock.
- Enter your passphrase.
- Your notes will appear.
B) You see “We found synced notes for this page. Enter passphrase to sync & retrieve.”
- Enter your passphrase to Sync & Retrieve.
- Then click Unlock to edit.
This means a previous encrypted copy is safely stored on the server and this browser was just cleared.
C) Editor looks empty, no message, button says “Save & Lock”
- Click the Member Notes badge to close the box.
- Click the badge again to reopen it (this triggers a fresh check).
- If prompted, enter your passphrase to retrieve; otherwise click Unlock and enter your passphrase.
D) “Sync devices” is OFF (optional, for server backup)
- Click Sync devices → Enable Sync.
- Close the note box, then open it again.
- Enter your passphrase when asked.
With Sync ON, an encrypted copy (still private) is available for restore across browsers/devices.
Still empty after trying the above?
- Confirm you’re logged in with the same account.
- Make sure you’re on the same page where the notes were saved (notes are page-specific).
- Close the note box and reopen one more time to force re-detection.
- If you changed your passphrase, you must use the new one to unlock.
On why this work exists →
Shibumi, at least for me: doing what I want when I want without those burdensome tension thoughts pulling me down. Just hanging in that sweet spot of precarious balance between too much and too little—an intersection of blissful fluctuation while sitting with cards, coins, and coffee.
On Shibumi →
The term shibumi is Japanese and is explored at length in the novel Shibumi by Trevanian. You can read more about the book here: ABOUT Shibumi (Wikipedia)
The short reflection above is my own adaptation, inspired by Trevanian’s use of the word and the sensibility he describes. What follows is an excerpt from the novel, quoted here to preserve the original context and language:
“He sounds as though I shall like him, sir.”
“I am sure you will. He is a man who has all my respect. He possesses a quality of . . . how to express it? . . . of shibumi.”
“Shibumi, sir?” Nicholai knew the word, but only as it applied to gardens or architecture, where it connoted an understated beauty. “How are you using the term, sir?”
“Oh, vaguely. And incorrectly, I suspect. A blundering attempt to describe an ineffable quality. As you know, shibumi has to do with great refinement underlying commonplace appearances. It is a statement so correct that it does not have to be bold, so poignant it does not have to be pretty, so true it does not have to be real. Shibumi is understanding, rather than knowledge. Eloquent silence. In demeanor, it is modesty without pudency. In art, where the spirit of shibumi takes the form of sabi, it is elegant simplicity, articulate brevity. In philosophy, where shibumi emerges as wabi, it is spiritual tranquility that is not passive; it is being without the angst of becoming. And in the personality of a man, it is . . . how does one say it? Authority without domination? Something like that.”
Nicholai’s imagination was galvanized by the concept of shibumi. No other ideal had ever touched him so.
“How does one achieve this shibumi, sir?”
“One does not achieve it, one . . . discovers it. And only a few men of infinite refinement ever do that. Men like my friend Otake-san.”
“Meaning that one must learn a great deal to arrive at shibumi?”
“Meaning, rather, that one must pass through knowledge and arrive at simplicity.”