I cruised on autopilot, chasing pleasure, beauty, and brilliance while dodging confrontation, commitment, and stillness.

On the outside, I was thriving.

Inside, I chased stimulation, numbed discomfort, and avoided pain.

My real life began where there are no mirrors: in ceremony, stillness, devotion, and breath.

That’s where I stopped performing.
Where I met the parts I’d long exiled—and held them.

I studied shamanism, pendulums, and Reiki, but eventually discovered: healing isn’t found outside—it arises when you meet yourself within.

In a Himalayan ashram, I rediscovered the art of being still.
In the jungle, I remembered how to feel.
Through somatics, I remembered how to live.

Not from the mask.
But from the marrow.

I stopped bypassing.
Stopped forcing.
Started letting life move through me, instead of trying to master it.

Now, I walk beside women ready to dismantle illusion and step into the raw pulse of their own knowing.

I don’t offer quick fixes or bliss trips.
I guide you through thresholds.

Into presence—not as an idea, but as a physical anchor.

And when you breathe into your grief, rage, desire, you reclaim your power.

You become the living sign.

And that’s what I offer now:

Not ascension.
But embodiment.
Not sparkle.
But soul.

My work doesn’t promise bliss—it opens the door to truth.
Bare. Aware. Alive.

This is the temple.
This is the art.
This is the remembering.