On the Path, Off the Trail

Finding Meaning Through Movement


Athletic Roots

I grew up in a small town in Kansas, immersed in traditional sports and athletics. If it involved a ball and a team I loved playing. 

My earliest and fondest memories are of playing sports with my dad and brother, friends and neighbors. It was a dream come true when I received a scholarship to play college football. 

It turned out to be a very humbling experience. After two years and a couple of injuries, I decided to quit. 

It turns out that I didn’t just quit playing football: I quit sports. I quit athleticism. I quit competition. I quit my relationships with men.

​So, I tried on a new hat.

Progressive Branches

I started practicing yoga and meditation.

I dove deeply into organic agriculture and permaculture and shaped all of my studies in Sociology around environmental and racial justice. 

My teammates and friends thought this transition was strange. I went from being a big fish in a small pond to being bullied for being different. 

I wasn’t getting the celebration and support that I wanted and needed as I worked to embody my authentic self.

Learning Abroad

I decided to travel abroad as a way of creating space for this identity exploration and search for my right livelihood.

By the time I made Kansas my home again, I visited a number of communities and cultures in the United States and abroad. I worked as a Peace Corps Volunteer planting trees, an NGO researcher looking at social and economical relationships, and as a farm hand in rural Zambia. 

Throughout this time I had a slow, gentle yoga practice and a strong commitment to meditation. 

I felt fulfilled. I felt enlivened. I felt authentic. 

​Until I didn’t.

Recognizing the Trap

On the surface, my life looked free: I was exploring the world. 

But when I looked at my movement practice - which I believe provides insight into the rest of my life - I realized that I created a "trap" of control. 

I had a highly regimented practice that, if I didn't do, left me with unbearable anxiety, tension in my muscles, and stiffness in my joints. If I didn't do it, I didn't feel good.

I also realized that I was suppressing large parts of myself, and my interpretation of yoga encouraged this. I was hiding from my big emotions - the pain, the fear, the anger, the shame.

Rather than process and dialogue with these parts of myself, I let them float away like a cloud.

Turning Towards my Shadows

After my mom passed away and I became a father, these emotions grew and bypassing them no longer worked. 

However, I was afraid of engaging in these big movements, feeling these big emotions, and reverting back to a self I felt ashamed of. 

I needed more ways to experience, express, and contain these emotions.

During this time of feeling powerless, I started to integrate more "power" practices - heavy weight lifting, sprinting, and throwing.

During and after these sessions I had new and deeper insight into the way I was showing up in the world.

Reconciling the Duality

Cognitively, I was asking myself: How could I integrate these two ways of being - the "athlete" and the "spiritual guy" - in the world when large parts of me were exiled?

It took some time, but I realized the connections between these seemingly disparate passions - team sports, working on the land, and spiritual practice.

They all shared in common a deeply embodied experience of flow and companionship. 

And, when I looked at the way that I was shaping my movement practice, I was integrating spiritual practice and athletic development.

Integrating the Whole

When I realized the ways that this was serving me, I made big changes in my life.

In my search and exploration for my right livelihood I put embodied flow and companionship in the center.

I approach my clients and students as companions on the journey toward deeper embodiment and authentic expression. On the bodywork table, on the dance floor, we are moving together.

​By engaging in different movement practices, I have been able to access different parts of myself, experience a greater range of (e)motion, and deepen my engagement with my self, others, and the world around me.

I'm passionate about movement and here to hear your story.

In motion,