Supporting psychological, emotional, and spiritual growth through psychotherapy, contemplative practice, and human-centered care.
Maybe your life looks fine, and something in you still feels off in a way you can't quite explain. Maybe it doesn't look fine at all, and you're simply trying to make it through the day. Whatever brings you here, you're probably looking for more than relief. You long for relationships where you can be yourself. A life that feels true to who you are. And perhaps beneath the stress, the uncertainty, or the pain, there are quieter questions you haven't had the space to sit with — about meaning, connection, belonging, and what it means to live a life that feels deeply your own.
↓In the age of AI, knowledge is becoming abundant. But there are still three things no technology can learn for us: how to come home to our bodies, how to love another human being, and how to live with the awareness that our lives are finite.
Life transitions, grief, relocation, identity shifts, or uncertainty about what comes next.
Patterns in relationships, loneliness, sexuality, belonging, or difficulty feeling fully yourself with others.
Sensitivity, spirituality, purpose, consciousness, and what it means to live authentically in a rapidly changing world.
I've worked in the helping profession, in various forms, for six years—standing at the intersection of psychology, spirituality, consciousness research, and artificial intelligence, exploring how we stay grounded in our bodies and minds, how we love, and how we live a life that is truly our own in the age of AI.
The questions that shaped everything.
For as long as I can remember, I've been curious about what it means to be human — the parts of us that don't show up on a resume or a first impression: our emotions, our relationships, the quiet longing to belong and be understood.
I was a sensitive kid. I picked up on things before anyone said them out loud — the mood in a room, what someone wasn't saying. For a long time I thought that meant something was wrong with me. It took years to understand that sensitivity wasn't a problem to fix. It was something to learn how to listen to.
When I was 14, I lost someone I loved. That kind of loss, at that age, doesn't really go away. It just sits there and asks you questions you don't have answers for. What does it actually mean to live? What's still there once everything familiar is gone? What happens when we die? What does it mean to exist? I didn't resolve any of it. I just carried those questions for years.
Sometimes the biggest transformation begins before you feel ready.
Growing up in China, a lot of my early life was spent trying to be who I was expected to become. Later, after going through a dark period in my life, something shifted in me. I followed something harder to explain.
A calling.
And I moved to the United States without having things ready. I jumped into a place without knowing anybody there and started the wildest adventure I've ever had, or could have imagined.
What started as an educational move turned into something bigger: relearning who I was outside the roles I'd inherited.
Learning to understand the whole person.
I got the chance to be immersed in an environment of psychology, spirituality, consciousness, and Buddhism. I trained in mindfulness-based, transpersonal counseling at Naropa University, in a program that treats the body, emotion, spiritual life, and psychological process as inseparable.
I wanted to understand why we can have everything we were told would make us happy and still feel like something's missing. I wanted tools that went deeper than talk alone — tools that could help others the way certain people, at the right moment, helped change my own life.
Technology is changing rapidly. Humanity still unfolds slowly.
Alongside psychology, I've become deeply interested in artificial intelligence and consciousness. We're living in a world where the development of AI is inevitable, and it's already everywhere, whether we acknowledge it or not. Technology can move information faster than anything in human history.
But healing has never really worked that way.
It still happens slowly, usually in the presence of another person who is actually paying attention, and who is willing to share their own lived experience with you.
AI can teach us more than ever before.
But there are a few things it still can't do for us — how to actually live inside our own bodies, how to love without flinching, how to face the fact that all of this ends.
I find myself wondering what stays essentially human as everything else speeds up. And what that means for how we connect, how we love, and how we heal.
The space I hope to offer.
I work with teens and adults navigating transitions, life challenges, relationships, identity, and the quiet sense that something deeper is waiting to be lived.
Healing, to me, isn't about becoming a fixed or perfect version of yourself. It's closer to coming back into relationship with the parts of you — your body, your history, your instincts — that you may have learned to override.
My hope is to offer a space where you can slow down, be actually seen, and find your way back to something that feels honest, connected, and fully yours.
A different way of being with yourself.
Many of us become very good at understanding ourselves. We can explain why we feel the way we do. We know our patterns. We recognize the stories we've been carrying for years. And yet, something still doesn't change. Because insight alone rarely transforms us. Real change begins when we learn to experience ourselves differently — not by trying harder, not by becoming someone else, but by slowing down enough to notice what has been there all along.
Rather than trying to fix you or analyze your life from a distance, we gently turn toward what is happening in this moment — your breathing, your body, your emotions, the ways you move toward yourself, away from yourself, and toward others. Sometimes, what has remained outside of awareness for years becomes clear when we finally slow down enough to notice it.
Most of us carry parts that learned to protect us — parts that strive, please, perform, withdraw, criticize, stay busy, or hide. And there are often parts of ourselves that have been pushed into the shadows, parts we learned were too much, not enough, unacceptable, or unsafe to show. These parts are not mistakes to eliminate. They each developed for a reason. Sometimes the parts you dislike most are the ones that have worked the hardest to keep you alive. Instead of fighting them, we become curious about what they are trying to protect, what they long for, and how they have helped you survive. As these hidden and protective parts begin to feel seen with compassion, they often become sources of creativity, vitality, and a deeper sense of being yourself.
We spend much of our lives adapting — learning who to be, what to hide, how to stay safe. Therapy offers something different: a space where nothing needs to be performed, earned, or proved. A space where every part of you is welcome, even the parts you've learned to hide. Where you can begin to meet yourself with the same openness you may have long offered to everyone else. Over time, that way of relating doesn't stay inside the therapy room. It begins to shape how you relate to yourself, the people you love, and the life you're creating — not because someone told you who to become, but because you gradually remember what it feels like to be fully yourself.
While many conversations take place in the therapy room, healing is not confined to it. For some people, nature offers a different kind of presence. The living world has a way of slowing us down. Sometimes what cannot be reached through conversation begins to unfold in the quiet rhythm of walking, breathing, and simply being outdoors. When it feels supportive and appropriate, we may integrate nature into our work, allowing the living world to become another companion in the process of reconnecting with yourself.
My work is grounded in mindfulness-based transpersonal psychotherapy and informed by somatic therapy, Gestalt therapy, attachment theory, parts work, shadow work, contemplative psychology, interpersonal neurobiology, and nature-based therapy.
Rather than following a single model, I draw from these perspectives in service of each person's unique history, relationships, and way of being. Every therapeutic relationship unfolds differently, and our work will be shaped by what is most meaningful and supportive for you.
Reach out or schedule a complimentary consultation. We will briefly discuss what brings you here and whether working together feels like a possible fit.
Our first session gives us space to understand your story, current needs, and what you hope may become different.
Together, we explore a pace and way of working that feels supportive, responsive, and grounded in your actual life.
As our work unfolds, we periodically pause to notice what is changing, what remains tender, and what direction feels most meaningful.
Not at all. Many people reach out not because something is "wrong," but because they're longing for a deeper relationship with themselves. You might be navigating a life transition, exploring relationships, questioning your direction, or simply sensing that something within you is asking for attention. Our work together isn't only about reducing suffering. It's also about cultivating greater awareness, resilience, meaning, and connection.
Nothing needs to be perfectly prepared. You don't need to organize your thoughts or know exactly what to say. Simply arrive as you are. Our first session is an opportunity for us to get to know one another, explore what brings you here, and begin discovering what kind of support would be most helpful for you.
The labels matter less than the support you need, but they do matter legally and ethically. Depending on your location and the nature of our work, services may be provided within either a psychotherapy or coaching framework. Psychotherapy may involve clinical assessment, diagnosis when appropriate, and treatment of mental health concerns. Coaching does not provide diagnosis or treatment of mental health disorders and is not eligible for insurance reimbursement. My intention remains the same: to offer a thoughtful, compassionate, and individualized space that supports your growth and well-being. If you're unsure which option is appropriate, we can discuss it together during a consultation.
AI can be an extraordinary tool for reflection, learning, and support. I use AI myself in many aspects of my work and life, and I believe it has the potential to expand human learning, creativity, and access to knowledge. At the same time, healing is more than information. It unfolds through presence, relationship, and lived experience. As AI becomes more capable, I believe qualities like emotional depth, authentic connection, and the experience of being truly met become even more valuable.
That's completely okay. You don't need to have everything figured out before reaching out. Sometimes the first step is simply becoming curious about what has been quietly asking for your attention. If you're wondering whether working together might be a good fit, you're welcome to schedule a complimentary consultation. We can begin with a conversation.