Ten years ago, I thought I knew what my contribution to the world was. I believed it would be found in the room, directly across from a client, creating healing, connection, and lasting change. And for a long time, that was true. Sitting with people in their grief, their chaos, their breakthroughs—it shaped me. It taught me. And it built the foundation of everything I now stand on.
But something unexpected happened as the years passed.
I stayed curious. I stayed in the question.
And in that questioning, something beautiful began to take form—a deeper understanding of how people get stuck and, more importantly, how they get free. Patterns started revealing themselves. The same stuck points showed up in different clients. My brain began stitching it all together into a framework—a map, really—for transformation. My work became more effective, more alive. There was a feedback loop between me and my clients that fueled my hunger to know more, see more, understand more. I wasn’t just helping people—I was learning what it means to be human.
And then came the noise.
The social media era.
The pressure to become something. To brand, to build, to scale, to be seen. I resisted it. I toyed with it. Every attempt to play the game left me depleted. Each time I tried to “get in the game,” my engine would die. I rage-quit Instagram at 2am once, swearing off the whole charade. I’ve restarted and stopped more times than I can count. I’m sitting with 100 followers right now, and even that feels like a gift.
Because the engine I was trying to start wasn’t mine. It didn’t belong to the work. It belonged to ego. To “going viral.” To being brilliant and having others see that brilliance. Gross.
And then, something changed.
I was invited to an 11-day immersive in Costa Rica—a gathering of pioneers, builders, visionaries. People dreaming of a collaborative, autonomous future where information flows freely, where business is built on reciprocity, not extraction. It cracked me open. A new language was spoken—tech, systems, ethics, decentralization, open-source thinking—and it lit something in me that had been dormant.
Suddenly, I could see it.
The role I want to play.
What if my true contribution isn’t just in 1:1 work? What if it’s in moving the conversation forward?
I want to create spaces where change-makers come together to reimagine how we do healing work. I want to connect the wisdom of past and present thinkers, therapists, coaches, somatic practitioners, philosophers, and neuroscientists—and weave it into something unified. The current system is outdated. Information is siloed. Coaches are outpacing therapists, not because they know more, but because they’re speaking a language people understand. Meanwhile, the clinical world is still guarding the gates and using language that keeps people out.
It’s time to change that.
We’re on the brink of something revolutionary. The science of the nervous system is already shifting how we understand healing and transformation. What if we could build a new movement? One that champions unified language. One rooted in science, experience, and creativity. One that honors the feedback loop—the aliveness of the process, not just the result.
I want to build think tanks, not pedestals. I want to be surrounded by great minds who value curiosity over certainty, who are willing to leave behind the “expert” mask in favor of real, raw exploration. I want a space where wonder is celebrated. Where the need to “know” is replaced with a hunger to discover.
That’s where I’m heading. That’s the voice I’ve found. And it’s only just beginning.