Sixty-four years. Two of them in an RV. No regrets — and a second chair, if you want it.
I've spent a lifetime as a student of conversation and connection — twenty years with Landmark, and a good while longer learning to ask the kind of question that actually opens something up.
For two years I lived on the road in an RV. I parked on the sand in Texas, pulling in after dark, certain I'd sink. I hiked to the top of a red-rock canyon in Sedona just to find out what was up there — and discovered the top was never the top.
I've never had much money. I've sometimes been allergic to it. And I've still managed an amazing, incredible adventure of a life — once I stopped telling myself the story that it wasn't one.
Somewhere in my twenties I decided I wouldn't regret my choices, and I've mostly kept that promise. What I have instead is a deep appreciation for reality, exactly as it is, right now. That's the thing I can sit with you and help you find.
"I can't change anyone's mind, and nobody can change mine. The best any of us can do is nurture someone's desire for a point of view they're already, quietly, resisting."Steven Morris
The word educate comes from educare — to draw out. A real teacher doesn't shove information in; they draw out what you already know. That's all a good Socratic dialogue is: two people willing to change their minds, and a field between them that opens onto something neither one arrived with.
So I won't hand you a list of to-dos. I'm better at questions than answers. We'll find your edge — the honest one, between comfort and terror — and stay there a while. No fixing. Just the room to see what's actually true, and the quiet to hear it.
There's a second one by the fire, and the desert isn't going anywhere.
Request an adventure