About Me

A story about asking for help before I knew what kind of help I needed — and what I learned about the space between having no answers and having new ones.

Everyone around me thought things were going well. They were right. That was the problem.

The outside

By my mid-forties, much of my life was going well.

I had successfully delivered the major project in New Zealand that I had originally been headhunted to lead. Professionally, I had achieved something I could be proud of, and for the first time in a while there was space to pause and reflect.

My children were settled and happy. School, friendships and activities were all going well. I had spent two years joint-coaching my son's football team, and that had naturally come to an end. I was also playing drums in a band, which meant spending regular time with other men — something that had been quite new for me, and that I found surprisingly valuable. I also found time to learn to sail, taking on my share of the leadership and teamwork it takes to handle a 35-foot yacht as part of a four-person crew — one of the most exhilarating and rewarding experiences of my life.

There was, in many ways, a sense of stability.

And perhaps that was what allowed something else to become impossible to ignore.

The question

With the immediate demands of life quieter, I had more space to look at what was happening inside me. My spiritual journey, which had been running alongside my professional life for many years, was becoming harder to keep in a separate compartment.

I wasn't happy.

And an increasingly insistent question began to emerge:

Who am I — really? And who do I want to be for the rest of my life?

It wasn't just a question about work. It reached into everything — my career, my relationships, my identity, my sense of purpose and the person I believed I was supposed to be.

I had spent years building a successful life. But I was beginning to question whether the life I had built was still the life I wanted to live.

The pressure to resolve that question grew.

I now recognise that I had reached one of those points in life where the old answers were no longer enough, but I didn't yet have new ones. You don't need to know what the answer is before you start looking for it. I didn't.

The unlikely first call

This was the point at which I sought help — not from someone I would previously have thought of as an obvious person to turn to.

I approached a Reiki practitioner.

At the time, I could not have known where that simple decision would lead. It became the beginning of a much deeper period of exploration — one that eventually led me to become a Reiki Master Practitioner and Trainer myself.

But the significance of that first step wasn't really Reiki.

It was asking for help.

It was being willing to have a different kind of conversation about my life — not simply about fixing a problem, or being told what I should do, but about exploring who I was, what mattered to me and what I wanted my life to become.

The journey that followed took another ten years, and it wasn't easy. There were points in those ten years I seriously doubted I'd done the right thing — moments I couldn't have explained to the people around me, because from the outside, nothing looked wrong.

But looking back, that first decision to reach outside my usual world was a defining moment.

What it actually taught me

It taught me something that has become central to the work I do today.

Sometimes, when we reach a point of profound change, we don't need someone to give us the answer. We need someone who can help us create enough space to find our own.

And we need that help to be practical. Because insight on its own isn't enough. Eventually, we have to make decisions — about our work, our relationships, our priorities, our identity. About what we are going to keep, what we are going to let go of, and how we are actually going to live differently.

That is the kind of space I now try to create for other people.

Not a place where I tell you who you should become.

And not a place where we simply talk about your life without addressing the realities of living it.

A space where we can explore what is really happening, understand what matters, and turn that understanding into your own practical decisions about what comes next.

If this is you

You may not know exactly what you need.

You may simply know that something has to change.

That can be enough to start a conversation.

Before that

That question didn't come from nowhere.

I grew up mixed race, non-white, in rural UK in the 1970s and 80s — the only male in a large, predominantly female household. That experience didn't define my life, but it did shape an early awareness of identity, perception, and how both quietly influence behaviour and decision-making. Over the years I've become more consciously aware of how that, and much else from my formative years and early adulthood, has shaped my own path.

That awareness is now part of how I work with others — not as a label, but as a lens through which deeper patterns can be understood and navigated.

Alongside this, I built a career in engineering and large-scale project delivery, working on projects with real responsibility and complexity. My personal life has included marriage, fatherhood, separation, rebuilding, and the ongoing work of finding purpose and direction.

My spiritual awakening happened at 22 — the same year my engineering career began. For most of the next two decades, those two paths ran side by side, not always comfortably, until the point in my mid-forties this story describes. That reconciliation — spiritual life alongside the material, practical realities of everyday life — is also what my book, Practical Spirituality: A Guide, is about.

I also come from a lineage of traditional African healers, and feel a strong connection to the land and history of the UK and Europe. Some of my work draws on energy awareness and healing. I don't present this as abstract or separate from ordinary life — it's applied in a grounded way, in service of clearer thinking, better decisions, and real movement forward.

How I work

I don't offer fixed frameworks or generic strategies. I work directly with you and your situation — cutting through noise, assumptions and pattern — so that what's actually true becomes clear. From there, decisions get easier, and movement becomes possible.

Who this tends to be for

This work tends to resonate with people who sense that:

• Their situation isn't just practical — it has deeper layers
• Their past and identity have shaped how they think and decide
• Logic alone isn't resolving what they're facing

I also work from a particular starting point: that life isn't only a series of random, disconnected events — that there may be a thread of purpose or direction running through it, even when that's hard to see clearly in the moment.

You don't need to be certain of that. Curiosity or openness to the idea is enough. But if you're confident life has no deeper direction at all, and you're looking for a purely practical or tactical approach, we're probably not the right fit.

You don't need to share my background. But you'll likely recognise that clarity takes more than surface-level thinking.

Training and experience

Alongside my professional engineering and leadership background, my training spans:

• Life Coaching
• Breathwork Facilitation
• Meditation Teaching
• Men's Group Facilitation
• Retreat Facilitation
• Ancient Site Tours
• Authoring & Public Speaking
• Reiki Master Teaching & Practice
• Mediation Facilitation
• Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP)

Start with a session

The simplest way to begin is with a Clarity Session — a focused, one-hour conversation to bring direction to what you're facing.