My Story

I’ve always been drawn to patterns — there’s something fascinating about them. At first it was the visuals, and over time I began to see the depth underneath. I first explored patterns through clay, art, textile design and nature photography. Art shows you movement. It reveals rhythm, repetition, and the places where creativity and possibilities live.

That approach followed me into a career in technology. I spent decades in product management building digital products and leading teams. From the outside, it looked like strategy and execution. Underneath, it was pattern work — watching how assumptions shaped decisions, how communication loops formed, and how small internal shifts could change an entire outcome.

At the same time, I experienced the accumulation of pressure that corporate systems create.

An introduction to Qigong marked a turning point. What began as a simple practice led to an unexpected emotional reset that changed how I understood energy, emotion, and awareness. It revealed the depth of our internal patterns — and how recognition, combined with intentional repatterning, can open life-changing pathways.

While continuing in product management, I pursued formal training in Chinese Energetic Medicine, eventually earning a Doctorate in the field. I trained as a Master Practitioner in Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP), Mental Emotional Release® (MER), and hypnotherapy. I am ordained as a Christian mystic and shaped by years of Buddhist study. These experiences ground my work in contemplative spiritual practice. Over time, Eastern and Western frameworks stopped feeling separate and became different lenses on the same human process.

Today, through The Still Point Works, I help people recognize and shift the emotional and response patterns that shape how they think, feel, and act. Clients often describe the work as grounded and unexpectedly precise — less about dwelling in the past, more about opening to potential.

When patterns shift at their root, the impact may be quiet, arrive with a roar, or land somewhere in between — either way, it changes how you feel and how you respond.