As a spiritual counselor and Zen teacher, sharing in your journey is an honor and profoundly sacred. It took a long time to get here. According to Zen's everyday, ordinary practice, great reverence and profound, abundant thanks are reserved for honest conversation and authenticity between human beings. This connection is never perfect, but it is all we’ve got—and it is rare. Remember that when you connect with a new person who lights a spark in your heart.

I was born in New England and come from a modest family background. I was blessed with an excellent education early in Jesuit and private schools. I continued my education at Northeastern University in Boston and the University of London, Goldsmiths, where I was introduced to Eastern Philosophy and Consciousness. After kicking around a bit (building decks in Colorado and studying Buddhism and yoga), I went to law school for a stint. I moved to Los Angeles to try my hand at screenwriting, and eventually, I pursued a corporate strategy career for over two decades. In my mid-forties, I was Chief of Staff for an International fund and a university-level lecturer.

In 2015, not a year after being named one of the Top Voices globally on social media by LinkedIn for management and culture, I made a bold decision that many wouldn't dare take. I left my high-paying career as a strategic consultant in the bustling heart of Silicon Valley. The corporate world, with its endless meetings and transactional culture, had worn me down, leaving me yearning for something more meaningful. I took an unconventional departure to a remote corner of Death Valley, California. I found a simple three-room cabin at the foot of San Jacinto in a conservation area, a place I would later name my business after - Snowcreek. In this rustic and rough place, I found the will to write my first novel about my dysfunctional childhood and the pain of severe neglect and abuse. The pain—hidden away for decades, nearly killed me more than once, so it was time to confront the shadow.

Luckily, I could reach my therapist by telephone a few times a week, but most of the time, I was alone. The high desert is a barren place of searing heat and eerie silence. It was the middle of a scorching summer when the temperature regularly reached and stayed above 105 degrees. The relentless heat painted the air with shimmering waves of intensity, and solitude settled in like a cranky and sometimes unwelcome companion. The solitude sometimes felt almost unbearable, with only the occasional rustling of desert creatures and the haunting wind for company, starkly contrasting my previous life in hyperactive, non-stop Silicon Valley. Amidst this harsh environment, encounters with venomous snakes, coyotes, and carrion birds became a regular occurrence, a stark reminder of nature's raw power. Each day was a test of resilience and determination. Yet, even with the heat and the “encounters with wildlife" (as advertised), something extraordinary was unfolding.

With no running hot water in the cabin, I bathed in an old claw-foot bathtub each night, gazing at the distant peak of Mt. San Jacinto. I yearned for a simpler life, a deeper connection with nature, self-sufficiency, and more time for writing and sharing the wisdom I'd gathered over the years. I discovered how I wanted to live, not why. After a winding journey that took almost another decade, I finally found my way to the serene landscape of rural Vermont, which I now call home. I've embraced a lifestyle that aligns with my most authentic self.

You can read more about my journey and spiritual counceling here and here.

Nine bows, as my teacher says.