I grew up in Goose Bay, Labrador, which is a place where scale teaches humility early. The land is vast, the seasons uncompromising, and solitude is not a metaphor. Life there has a way of shaping how you understand time, endurance, and presence. You learn quickly that survival is communal, that silence carries information, and that attention is not optional.

Long before I had formal language for it, I was drawn to questions that sat outside tidy categories. I read widely, argued often, and moved easily between disciplines that were not meant to speak to one another. Psychology, philosophy, history, education, spirituality; none of those topics felt sufficient on their own. I was less interested in answers than in what happens when ideas are allowed to collide.

Several years ago, I came close to dying.

The experience arrived with visions and more questions, but with a radical narrowing of what mattered. In its aftermath, I found myself anchored by a small circle of friends whose presence was not symbolic, but essential. That period altered my understanding of identity, ambition, and success. It shifted my attention away from accumulation and toward coherence. How life holds together when certainty is removed fueled the fire.

I have lived many professional lives, some of which are easy to categorise and others that resist neat descriptions. I have taught, written, facilitated, studied, and built programs that sit at the margins of traditional frameworks. I am a published author, a lifelong student, and someone who has always been more interested in systems than in labels.

What ties these threads together is not a career path, but a way of orienting to the world.

I am drawn to threshold spaces, the zone between disciplines, between certainty and doubt, between what can be measured and what must be lived nourished my endless curiosity. I believe intelligence is broader than performance, that meaning emerges through relationship, and that attention is one of the most ethical acts we have left.

This website is not a catalogue of expertise. It is a record of inquiry.

If you are looking for a single narrative or a simplified identity, you may be disappointed. But if you are interested in how a life is shaped by place, proximity to death, and a refusal to stay in one lane, I invite you to read on.