A private practice

A life, held whole.

For decades I have practised privately with a small number of people on the architecture of their lives — the body, the mind, and the systems they live inside.

The people I attend to are world builders — founders of companies, often several at once, with many people inside them and markets that pull in different directions. Their lives are unusually large, unusually complex, and woven through a great many others. The person and the enterprise are never quite separable: when the one at the centre is well, much of what they have built tends to be well in turn. The practice is held with one person at a time, and felt by many.

What changes is rarely loud, and rarely what the person expected. The effort a complicated life seemed to demand simply becomes unnecessary; the days run cleaner; more of the person goes to what matters and less to what does not. The change itself is usually small — a different hour for going to bed, a sentence that stops being said in a marriage, a nutrient the body has quietly missed for a decade. Almost never the thing the person was sure was the problem.

Finding those points is a kind of coherence mapping: a whole life read as one connected system, rather than a set of separate problems handed to separate specialists. How that works is its own subject — the practice is where I have set it down.

The practice is on retainer, by introduction only, with a handful of clients at a time. The relationship is long. The attention is total. The people I work with become genuinely dear to me — it is the only way I know how to do this.