Twelve weeks. Ten people. Wednesday nights, January through March.

You know the thing.

The one you've been carrying so long it feels like it may never go away.

The relationship you keep almost ending. The work you were supposed to have started by now. The way you go quiet in rooms where you have something to say. The drinking, the scrolling, the way you disappear the second someone gets close. The thing that made you cry in the car last year and that you have not told anybody about.

You've worked on it. That's the part that stings. You've read about it, you've been to therapy about it, you've had the 2am clarity where you finally understood exactly where it came from and swore this time was different.

And you're still doing it.

Why understanding it didn't change it

Because at some point you learned that this thing is proof of something bad about you.

So every attempt to fix it is really an attempt to stop being someone who has it. And that's a fight you can't win, because the fighter and the enemy are the same person. You get maybe five good weeks. Then you're tired, and the tiredness feels like more evidence, and you're back.

That's not a willpower problem. It's a location problem. You've been trying to change from inside the very thing you're trying to change.

You need somewhere else to stand first.

Where I've been standing for twenty years

Yoga philosophy. Buddhism. Vedanta. Astrology.

Not as a nice thing I do on the weekend — as the actual ground I've used on my own worst days, for two decades.

What those traditions understood is that there's a part of you that has never once been in trouble. Not your thoughts. Not the story you tell about yourself. The thing that's aware of all of it. And when you can stand there, even a little, you can look directly at the thing you've been avoiding without falling apart.

That's when change gets fast.

Not because the spiritual work is magic. Because you finally stop fighting yourself, and all the energy that was going into that fight becomes available for something else.

And then we do the unglamorous part

I've sat in too many rooms full of people having gorgeous spiritual experiences that changed nothing about their lives. Transcendence that can't survive Wednesday isn't worth much.

So we get specific. One thing, small enough to be real, done on the days you don't feel like it. We find the assumption underneath your pattern — if I say no they'll leave, if I show them the real thing they'll laugh — and we test it in the actual world. And we plan for the week you fall off, because you will, and what happens the morning after is the entire game.

Twelve weeks: Acceptance, then Empowerment, then Self-Realization. In that order, because it doesn't work in any other one.

Wednesdays, 6:00–7:30pm PST. January through March. On Zoom. Ten people. Plus two private sessions with me every month. $3,399.

Bring one thing. It doesn't have to be the biggest thing, but it should be a real one — something you've genuinely tried to move and couldn't.

*everyone interested in joining will have a 20 minute call with me to make sure every part is the right fit — me, you, and the group environment. BOOK CALL HERE