I’ve spent fifteen years paying close attention to the arts, higher education, and nonprofit sectors, working in fundraising, operations, organizational development, and leadership. Along the way, I have found myself asking the same questions again and again, regardless of organization or role. How do we navigate complexity in the face of a changing world? What conditions allow authentic insight to emerge? In systems built for fragmentation, how do we remain whole? 

For years, I assumed these were simply the questions that interested me. Looking back, I now realize they’ve been my work all along.  

This has led me beyond traditional management literature and into the curious intersection of systems thinking, artistic practice, philosophy, poetry, and embodied learning. Rather than seeing these as separate disciplines, I recognize them as different ways of exploring the same inquiry. Counterpoint Studio has grown from that recognition – not as a new venture, but as a name for the work I have always been practicing. 

Today, I write, teach yoga, and partner with organizations through Counterpoint Studio, an advisory practice for organizations and leaders navigating complexity, uncertainty, and change. For me, all of the facets of my work are simply different expressions of the same practice. Whether I’m working with an organization, leading a class, or following an idea onto the page, I am interested in exploring the conditions for greater clarity, authenticity, and wholeness in our systems and in ourselves. 

My work draws inspiration from systems thinkers, artists, poets, musicians, and practitioners who understand that sustainable change is not something that can be planned or engineered – it is something that emerges when the conditions are right. At the heart of it all is a simple belief: that people do their best work when they don’t have to leave themselves behind to do it. 

When I'm not partnering with organizations or teaching yoga, you'll usually find me traveling, reading, loving on my rescue dog, Chewie, or trying to wrangle my own thoughts into a poem. More often than not, those moments find their way back into the work, returning me to the question that continues to guide it all: what becomes possible when we remain whole?