I guide you through crossings.
I spent a lot of my life afraid. Afraid of taking up space. Afraid of what people would think. Afraid of my own desire. That's what happens when you grow up in a conservative muslim family, living undocumented.
So I became agreeable. Quiet. Meek. I performed the life I was taught to want instead of finding the one I actually wanted. My society called me good. I was as good as gone.
Then, in 2014, I jumped off a 70-foot cliff in Yosemite. I couldn't swim. For three minutes I was between life and death — and down there at the bottom of that water, I met something I'd spent my whole life pretending didn't exist. I have only one phrase for it. The Divine Light. A peace and a purpose I'd never touched until then.
I didn't return enlightened. But I did become more honest. I couldn't keep performing after that.
Then life kept breaking it open. Military. Immigration. Divorce. Chronic illness. Each one cracked a piece of the performance until what was left was just me — raw, and more alive than I'd ever been. Each one somehow returning me to those three minutes, reminding me what life is actually about.
The man I am now is the man who was forged in those three minutes. What I learned down there: fear isn't the enemy. It's the compass.
That's the crossing I guide people through. Not weekend catharsis. Not optimized performance. Not a productivity hack with a campfire. Something slower, harder, and more permanent.
This work is for those who are done managing their lives, ready to actually live them. Not to become someone new. To finally trust who they already are.
How i guide
I don't guide from having arrived — you can read my shadow bio for all the things I'm still learning. I guide through the lens of experience.
Some of what I've been: a military intelligence officer, a meditation teacher, a polarity facilitator, a wilderness guide. A tech bro and a frat bro, too. And some of what's broken me open: a marriage and a divorce, moving countries, living with one usable kidney, and a stutter I had to fight to speak through.
I equate the work I do to that of a shepherd. The shepherd doesn't point from the shore. He goes into the field with those who wandered off, and stays until the last one's through.
My work is rooted in meditation traditions, ancestral rites of passage, intimacy education, and masculine/feminine embodiment. I work through the body and through nature. I've been shaped by the School of Lost Borders, the Shipibo lineage, teachers like Amir Khalighi and John Wineland, and the wild places that keep teaching me whether I'm ready or not.
I split my time between the Salish Sea and the Sacred Valley.
stop performing. start living.
TESTIMONIALS