About
There was a time, in our ancestral memory, when women held the center circle as the feelers, the oracles, and seers of the tribe. Their voices were medicine, their vision the thread that wove a future for the greater good of all beings — human and other-than-human. Around them stood the men, not to dominate but to steward. To act, to protect, to serve the calling of the women’s sight.
my story
I come to this work in devotion to that ancient geometry. I stand in the outer ring weaving structure, holding boundaries, executing with deep reverence for the power that moves from the center. My prayer is to restore that sacred posture: women in luminous council and direction, men as devoted guardians of that vision.
Years ago, in the early days of my relationship with my wife, Ginny, I was introduced to a worldview that rearranged my understanding of Masculine and Feminine. Her roots in indigenous wisdom revealed life as a continuous dance between these two forces — each sacred, each indispensable. In those teachings, women hold the inner circle as oracles and nurturers, attuned to divine intelligence and to the wellbeing of the whole. The men form the outer circle — stewards, guardians, and interpreters who bring the unseen into form. Two circles, one life. Neither superior. Both necessary.
For a long time, I couldn’t see that clearly. Growing up in the late eighties and nineties, I absorbed a confused narrative: patriarchy’s damage on one side, post-modern guilt and self-doubt on the other. I was taught that men had broken something and that shame was the proper response. Meanwhile, I was told to suppress the feminine within me. To measure worth by utility, to hold back tears, to harden. The culture I grew up in mocked men as helpless, painted women as the only adults in the room.
But I was a sensitive boy. I loved song, nature, softness. For that, I was pushed out of male circles, ridiculed for my tenderness. The feminine felt like sanctuary — the place I could breathe. Only later did I understand: both energies live within me, and both are divine. The sacred task is their reunion.
That’s what my work is about: remembering what wholeness feels like. When the feminine leads from the center and the masculine devotes itself in guardianship, the world flies balanced again. And that restoration begins within us.
I work with women leaders to hold the outer ring by tending the structure, rhythm, and integrity that allow their brilliance to move freely. I work with men to help them remember their own sensitivity and strength. To become trustworthy stewards of love, purpose, and presence. Two paths, one devotion: the restoration of balance between the Masculine and Feminine, within and without.
I’ve spent a lifetime cultivating that devotion not as concept, but as capability. I grew up on a horse ranch, learning patience, repair, and the language of living things. I studied music, learning how to listen. I’ve led teams in restaurants and hotels where precision and grace mattered equally. I’ve managed off-grid lodges in the jungle, startups in the city, and sat in medicine circles and men’s groups that demanded presence and integrity. I’ve trained in survival, in self-defense, in service. I’ve found lost people and consoled the ones who loved them.
All of that taught me one thing: I can hold it. Whatever rises in the space: chaos, need, beauty, or crisis — I can meet it.
So that you, as a woman leader, can stay rooted in the center of your work, your prayer, your power. And so that you, as a man, can rediscover the peace and strength that come from being in right relationship with your own heart.
That’s the devotion I bring:
To hold what holds you.
To steady the field so your brilliance, and your wholeness can move freely.
To make the world safe again for the Feminine to lead, and for the Masculine to love.
Years ago, in the early days of my relationship with my wife, Ginny, I was introduced to a worldview that rearranged my understanding of Masculine and Feminine. Her roots in indigenous wisdom revealed life as a continuous dance between these two forces — each sacred, each indispensable. In those teachings, women hold the inner circle as oracles and nurturers, attuned to divine intelligence and to the wellbeing of the whole. The men form the outer circle — stewards, guardians, and interpreters who bring the unseen into form. Two circles, one life. Neither superior. Both necessary.
For a long time, I couldn’t see that clearly. Growing up in the late eighties and nineties, I absorbed a confused narrative: patriarchy’s damage on one side, post-modern guilt and self-doubt on the other. I was taught that men had broken something and that shame was the proper response. Meanwhile, I was told to suppress the feminine within me. To measure worth by utility, to hold back tears, to harden. The culture I grew up in mocked men as helpless, painted women as the only adults in the room.
But I was a sensitive boy. I loved song, nature, softness. For that, I was pushed out of male circles, ridiculed for my tenderness. The feminine felt like sanctuary — the place I could breathe. Only later did I understand: both energies live within me, and both are divine. The sacred task is their reunion.
That’s what my work is about: remembering what wholeness feels like. When the feminine leads from the center and the masculine devotes itself in guardianship, the world flies balanced again. And that restoration begins within us.
I work with women leaders to hold the outer ring by tending the structure, rhythm, and integrity that allow their brilliance to move freely. I work with men to help them remember their own sensitivity and strength. To become trustworthy stewards of love, purpose, and presence. Two paths, one devotion: the restoration of balance between the Masculine and Feminine, within and without.
I’ve spent a lifetime cultivating that devotion not as concept, but as capability. I grew up on a horse ranch, learning patience, repair, and the language of living things. I studied music, learning how to listen. I’ve led teams in restaurants and hotels where precision and grace mattered equally. I’ve managed off-grid lodges in the jungle, startups in the city, and sat in medicine circles and men’s groups that demanded presence and integrity. I’ve trained in survival, in self-defense, in service. I’ve found lost people and consoled the ones who loved them.
All of that taught me one thing: I can hold it. Whatever rises in the space: chaos, need, beauty, or crisis — I can meet it.
So that you, as a woman leader, can stay rooted in the center of your work, your prayer, your power. And so that you, as a man, can rediscover the peace and strength that come from being in right relationship with your own heart.
That’s the devotion I bring:
To hold what holds you.
To steady the field so your brilliance, and your wholeness can move freely.
To make the world safe again for the Feminine to lead, and for the Masculine to love.