AUTHOR • SPEAKER • TEACHER OF PRESENCE
AUTHOR • SPEAKER • TEACHER OF PRESENCE
BE HERE. BE WILD. BE YOU.

Some of my earliest memories have nothing to do with school, careers or success. They have to do with questions.
As a child, I was fascinated by life. I loved reading books about spirituality, consciousness and the bigger questions that most children never think to ask. I wanted to understand why we are here, what makes people who they are, and whether there was something beyond what we could see.
I didn't have the words for it then, but I was searching for meaning.
As I grew older, those questions gradually gave way to everyday life. Relationships, university, work, responsibilities and ambitions took centre stage. I studied Computer Science, built a career, and eventually found myself running my family's business. Like many people, I became focused on building a successful life, solving problems and doing what needed to be done.
For many years, I barely thought about the books that had filled my shelves as a teenager. Life had become busy, and my attention was somewhere else.
I had no idea that, years later, those same questions would find me again. This time, they would come through experience rather than curiosity.
Life unfolded much as it does for many of us. I studied Computer Science in London and, over the years, found myself in very different worlds. I worked in advertising, explored several careers, spent twenty five years as a production assistant in the music industry, and at some point became involved in a family business.
Each chapter brought new experiences, wonderful people and valuable lessons. I embraced every opportunity to learn, grow and contribute. Looking back, I can see that I genuinely enjoyed building things, solving problems and taking on new challenges.
There was another thread running through all those years. From a very young age, I had learned to measure my worth by how much I did and how much I was appreciated by others. Being productive felt good. Being needed felt even better. I never questioned it because it was simply the way I had learned to move through life.
At the time, it simply felt normal.
Then life took a turn I could never have predicted.
In 2012, my brother asked for my help with the family business he had started a few years earlier. I thought I was stepping in temporarily. Life had other plans.
The work quickly became my life. I woke up at five every morning and was usually the last person to leave the office.
Sixteen-hour days became normal. Every day brought new challenges, new decisions and more responsibility. I kept going because that's what I had always done.
I believed that working harder would eventually make things easier. I just needed to solve the next problem, get through the next challenge, and then I would finally be happy.
Eventually, my body began sending signals that something wasn't right. At first, I ignored them. Until one day, it became impossible to ignore them any longer.
I was sitting at my desk when I had my first panic attack. At the time, I didn't know what it was. I thought something was seriously wrong with me.
The panic attack passed, but for the first time in years, I stopped long enough to look at my life instead of simply getting through another day.
What I saw shocked me.
I couldn't recognise myself, literally and figuratively.
I had spent my life trying to become good enough. Good enough to be appreciated. Good enough to be accepted. Good enough to deserve love. Somewhere along the way, I had become so focused on being the person I thought I needed to be to feel worthy that I had completely lost touch with myself.
I realised I had no idea who I was.
Over the years, I've worn many hats. I started my career as a computer programmer before moving into advertising, worked behind the scenes in live concerts, was a rally co-driver, sold fish and wine, and eventually ran my family's business.
For many years, I believed that achieving more, doing more, and saying yes would somehow make me feel worthy of love.
Somewhere along the way, I forgot who I was.
But life has a remarkable way of bringing us back to the questions we've been avoiding.
Mine was simple.
What do YOU want?
That question led me to study presence, human behaviour, coaching, and spirituality, write books, speak on international stages, and create The Art of Living.
Looking back, I wouldn't change a thing. Every chapter taught me something I couldn't have learned any other way.
Today, those lessons shape my work.