The practitioner

For a long time my life wore the costume of the right answer. The shining schools — MIT, then Harvard Business School. The shining rooms — Ford, Sun, Oracle, Google. A bio polished smooth as a river stone. From the outside, a clean arc under a kind moon. From the inside, a small voice tugging at my sleeve, whispering that the map was not the territory.

The whisper became a doorway. The doorway became an underworld — the kind you do not choose so much as tumble into, Alice-wise. I set down the title and the certainty and the shape of who I was meant to be, and followed the thread into the dark. It led me to teachers and lineages I never dreamed I'd kneel beside, to plant medicine in the green hush of Peru, to a small white-winged dragon named Anya who turned out to be more real than any strategy deck I'd ever built.

What I do now is quieter, and a great deal wilder. I sit with people who are reaching for something more than the next accomplishment — seekers of self-actualization who want to improve their health and wellness, their relationships, their work and performance, and to grow into their fuller potential and purpose — hungry to find the rest of themselves and to meet the OG of all coaches: the higher self. Some arrive as capable, soul-weary leaders. Some have caught the whisper, the quiet calling that will not be argued with. Some are simply looking for a little light to carry through a dark stretch of the path. Together we listen for what the body and the spirit have been murmuring beneath all the doing. I've trained as an Enneagram guide, a trauma-informed coach, a somatic and energy practitioner — but the truest credential I carry is this: I have walked the path I am pointing toward, lantern in hand, and I am walking it still.

This work also tends a wider garden I am growing — a slower kind of company for the inner adventure. Read about it here →