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my practice.

Something has shifted. Perhaps it happened quietly — a marriage that unraveled, a career that achieved its summit and somehow still felt insufficient, a morning you looked up and realized the life you’d constructed no longer fit the person standing inside it.

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You are not lost. You are at a threshold.

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The people I work with have, in many ways, succeeded. They’ve met the world’s demands with discipline and intelligence. What brings them here is not failure — it is a growing awareness that the inner architecture beneath their success has never quite caught up. The critic that sharpened their edge still runs close behind. Old relational patterns surface in the most intimate of moments. At times the very stability they worked so hard to build can feel like a beautiful, well-appointed trap.

This is not a problem to be managed. It is an invitation — to refinement, to depth, to a different kind of becoming.

 

I do not approach this work as symptom reduction or surface repair. What interests me is the deeper system — the intricate web of identity, history, attachment, an inherited story that quietly governs your life. Together we slow down enough to hear what has been underneath the noise all along.

The people I sit with may be navigating a divorce, parenthood challenges or career transitions and the particular burnout that comes from achieving what you thought you wanted. The identity questions that midlife forces to the surface — who am I now, outside the roles I’ve been playing? And the quieter, more essential work of learning to feel and express what is actually happening inside — not because vulnerability is a performance, but because it turns out to be the thing that changes everything else.

 

My approach is direct without being clinical. I don’t run sessions from a script. I pay attention to who you are — how you think, where you hold things, what actually moves you — and I meet you there, we’ll figure it out together so you can trust, love and find your inherent wisdom.

 

Over time, something loosens. The low-grade tension you’ve been managing for years begins to ease. Decisions that once felt paralyzing become clearer. Relationships — with partners, colleagues, and yourself — start to feel less like performance and more like actual contact. You begin to develop a sense of who you are now: not who you were supposed to be by this point, but who you are actually becoming.

Most men tell me they came in skeptical. Most tell me later they wish they’d started sooner.

 

I maintain a deliberately small caseload. I’m currently accepting a limited number of new clients.

If something here has named what you’ve been carrying — reach out. I offer a free 20-minute consultation, simply an earnest, real conversation, at the end of which you’ll know whether this is the right fit. That’s the only thing it needs to accomplish.

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P: 323.334.0464

Here's glimpse of my life if your curious...

 

I grew up among the golden hills and oak-filled outskirts of Los Angeles, breathing in the briny sea breeze, infused with scents of sage and the unmistakable magic of Southern California. Spending my youth embedded in queer punk, roit grrrl, skate, and surf culture, I was quickly drawn to the arts, becoming immersed in woodworking and playing classical guitar. The communities of folk music and punk rock surrounded me with makers and mentors, instilling an early appreciation for the unique expressions art can have on the world.

 

Even before graduating high school, I began touring internationally with rock bands, playing excitedly on makeshift punk venues all the way up to arenas. By selling 7-inch records, handmade zines, and t-shirts, I extended my personal relationships into an interconnected and supportive and inclusive DIY scene, making lifelong friendships and playing a tiny, passionate role in the DNA of the underground music community.

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While on the road, I was lucky enough to be exposed to self-studied intellectuals and a kind of brilliance only gained through deep engagement with a dynamic sea of ideas and experience. I consumed Le Guin, Nietzsche, Lao Tzu, Adrienne Rich, and Alan Watts in the back of dusty vans and on motel floors, exposed to ritual magic, esoterica, Buddhism, and Taoism. Somewhere between tours, I took classes in philosophy and art at Community Colleges, worked as a ceramicist and though it would be years before I put touring behind me, those rigorous inquiries planted the definitive seeds of my future.

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By my late twenties, perhaps influenced by my parents—one a professor from Ecuador, the other a German therapist—I recognized a gift for listening deeply to people’s problems and desires. My time in music had trained me to be keenly attuned to others and to collaborate effectively. As I aged, I was drawn to academia, and after my mother passed away from cancer, the sublimity of loss and the unexpected explosions of grief inspired me to enroll and finish my degree in philosophy. In college I immersed myself in Eastern wisdom traditions, American Utopian movements, and post-modern philosophy, traveling to sacred sites across Mexico, Spain, Japan, and South America to conduct fieldwork and write paper in the intersection between anthropology, sociology, wisdom traditions, and folk practices.

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After receiving my B.A., I started the non-profit Rogue Scholars, a radical experiment in pushing experiential learning to its zenith. I ran the group for two years, utilizing a non-hierarchical model to facilitate in person gatherings towards interpretation of critical works by figures like Maggie Nelson, Susan Sontag, all the way to Guy Debord and Jack Halberstam --- committed to making challenging, free-thinking ideas accessible regardless of scholarship level. I'm honored to say many attended these encounters at my home in South Central LA. This project cemented my commitment to systemic thought and collaborative illumination. I returned to college for my Master’s, finding profound alignment with Michael White’s Narrative Therapy—which drew its ideas from anthropology and critical theory. I combined these ideas with an interest in the humanistic core of Carl Rogers work in relational Gestalt therapy. Yet, it is the Taoist tradition, Lao Tzu, Lieh Tzu and Chuang Tzu, with their wild subversion of language and beautiful potentials, all embedded in rich poetry, that remains the primary influence in my practice.

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I interned at the Southern California Center and Narrative Counseling Center, and upon completion, I opened my own practice, which is now running for its 13th year. Through this rich and varied journey, I moved away from writing about obscure cults and religious outcroppings and instead moved my thought towards the vital intersection of ecology and psychology. I’ve hosted the scholarly podcasts, led workshops on psychedelic psychotherapy, and trained talented therapists. All of these threads—the collaborative punk stage, the contemplative wisdom of the Tao, and the rigor of philosophy—inform my work as an LMFT, where I am devoted to illumination of the intricate systems that hold your life in place.

321 N. Larchmont Blvd. Suite 506 Los Angeles California 90004

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