You may be asking, what lead me to become a coach? To answer that, and for those you are interested, allow me to share with you some of my journey.

I grew up in northern New Jersey, raised in an Irish-Catholic family. Though my family was not overly devout, my upbringing formed in me a belief in God, along with roots in the Christian faith.

My interest in spirituality later emerged at Ramapo College, where I studied psychology and yoga philosophy. During this time, some of my most formative experiences included encounters with three distinct faith communities—one a Catholic religious order, one a Buddhist monastery, and one a yoga ashram.

My experiences with each community were very similar. With each of them the inner, contemplative dimension felt fresh and vibrant, almost palpable. Altogether, these groups of dedicated spiritual seekers showed what was possible. Beyond words, they pointed to and revealed a deeper peace, a deeper wholeness.

These encounters left an enduring impression, and later led me to Colorado, where I studied contemplative religions at Naropa University. Along with my studies of Buddhism and Christianity, I received training in meditation, pastoral care and inter-religious dialogue. Here, also, I was introduced to the practice of centering prayer, entered into spiritual direction, and often would go on retreats in monastic settings—mainly, St. Benedict’s Monastery in Snowmass, CO. It was during this time I began to develop deeper roots in both Benedictine and Ignatian spirituality.

Looking back, that period was one of intense discernment. During a retreat one monk discreetly advised me to relax and take a break from seeking; or, in other words, to wait and see, to let God be God. By the end of that season, I would not say anything remarkable or extraordinary happened. However, there was something a priest said during a homily that has echoed in my heart to this day.

It was the Feast Day of St. Therese of Lisieux, otherwise known as “The Little Flower.” During mass that day, the priest spoke these words: “God wants for us nothing other than joy.” When he said this, it was as if a lightning bolt went off inside my soul. Tears flowed, every cell quivered, and there was an immediate realization. In my heart of hearts I knew that’s what I wanted, too. And if this was true, dare I say, this was one area where my will and God’s will were aligned. Only a loving God would desire nothing more or less for us, nothing other than joy.

This was a great consolation at the time. Whereas before I was preoccupied with the form my career might take or the nouns of my vocation—i.e. marriage, monastic life, and so on—this insight showed that those things were secondary. Most important was joy—a gift to be received and a mark of living in alignment with my soul’s purpose. Thus, joy became a guiding light, a north star.

After Naropa, despite this inner clarity, I was unsure about what to do next work-wise. I remained in Colorado, continuing to work as a caregiver. On one level, I felt a deeper call to marriage, a desire to be a husband and father. There in Colorado I met a kind, loving, and beautiful soul, who is now the woman I am now engaged to. Thus, I left behind thoughts of becoming a monk or priest. Yet the pull of the contemplative life remained. Thus, I began to embrace the idea of living as a “monk in the world” or “contemplative in action.”

While living in Denver, we regularly attended a local parish. I continued with my rhythm of retreat, remained in spiritual direction, and kept developing my praxis. It was also during this period of time that an affinity for Nature grew in me. Nature, just as the Monastery, became a place of refuge and retreat. It’s where I often went to pray, study, and reflect; a time and space to reconnect with what is truly beautiful.

In the spring of 2020, the pandemic shook and challenged us all. It so happened that very same month we moved from Colorado to Texas. Though we could not imagine what was to come, the day we arrived in Dallas was the day the city went into lock-down. And though we approached the move with the best of intentions, under the circumstances we faced unique challenges.

This is the part of the story where I would like to tell you how I overcame those challenges. However, during the next two years I begin to drift. In Dallas, I failed to connect with a church, or sangha, or form a sense of local community. Slowly, I began drifting from my contemplative discipline. The loss of friends and families—unrelated to Covid—added to the weight of grief that, for awhile, went unattended. I confess, in this season of life, I became angry with God and unsure about earlier notions of joyfulness.

After a year in Dallas and talking about where we wanted to live in the long-term—a place with more outdoor opportunities—we moved to the Pacific Northwest. However, the drift continued for another year. And after two years of drifting, the result was depression and disconnect—from self, from God, from others, from Nature, from a sense of hope and purpose. In 2022, I hit “rock bottom.” There was no other choice but to ask for help and seek support. That’s when everything began to shift.

My healing was the result of many factors. It was a holistic approach that has nurtured and sustained me, tending to the social, spiritual, and somatic elements of well-being. My healing was spurred on by a return to best practices and by forming new habits; choosing wellness one day and one step at a time. It was the result of therapy, support groups, returning to the faith, resuming spiritual direction and coaching. It was a journey from despair to hope, from darkness to light, made possible by the grace of God and support of many people—family, friends, and professional supports.

As I continued forward on the path of wellness, I realized a deeper call persisted—the universal call to contemplation. First, a friend from a support group recommended a book written by a pastor based in Portland, OR. The author spoke about the contemplative, Christian life in plain and practical terms, and integrated the voices of saints and mystics across time and denominations. This rekindled in me a memory of a time before and it reoriented me, returning me to the contemplative journey.

The inner call only grew louder after a synchronistic meet-up with a friend, spiritual director, and former faculty member at Naropa, who himself specializes in contemplative Christianity. He and his wife were visiting Washington State, on their annual pilgrimage to Mount Rainier. We meet up on the trail and hiked together into the mountains. Afterwards, as I reflected on the day, I realized it was as if God was reminding me of something I had forgotten: the contemplative path remained and it would always be there for me to choose, to step foot on and walk along. And I realized this deeper call would persist. I could either resist it or honor it.

I have chosen to honor it, to remain faithful to the call to contemplation, faithful to the questions, and to further discovering what it means to be a “monk in the world” and “contemplative in action.” I have experienced firsthand the value of cultivating a contemplative lifestyle and have remain committed to wellness. Realizing this has become the genesis behind this coaching practice and contemplative ministry.

Now, my goal is to serve and support others on their journey of growth, healing and transformation. My purpose is to inspire wisdom and to support individuals and communities in the arts of spiritual and contemplative living.

I remain thankful for everyone who is part of this journey—all who have guided me, all who continue to inspire, all who nurture and sustain my spirit in this work. Thank you for joining me on this journey and allowing me to serve you. May we continue to grow deeper in peace and joyfulness!