my path to this work.
The hardest truths I encountered weren’t about work. They were about me.
I joined a hedge fund built on radical truth and transparency because those values aligned with mine. Yet the constant 360 feedback — on display to everyone — tested me.
What challenged me most wasn’t the system, it was what it surfaced in me. The perfectionist. The achiever. The pleaser. The parts of me that sought external validation to measure my own self worth.
I had built a resume that checked every box: ten years in consulting, Peace Corps service, an Ivy League degree, and senior roles inside institutions where performance was everything. I’d built an identity around being “high-performing,” a “go-to,” and the one with answers. But for so many years, I felt unfulfilled. And if I was honest — bored. So much striving, and still, a quiet question underneath it all:
For what?
That year changed everything.
The constant public scrutiny sent my nervous system into survival mode. I didn’t break down — I over-functioned. I pushed harder and disassociated from everything but staying afloat. The panic didn’t come from failure. It came from losing access to myself.
In search of ground, I intuitively turned to my yoga, meditation, and journaling practices to get back in my body — and to myself. Going deeper became the beginning of my journey.
After that, I made a major life pivot. I stepped away from prestige and performance and toward the question that had been quietly following me: what does it mean to live from truth?
That question didn’t just change my life — it became the center of my work.
my origin story.
I was born in Colombia, adopted and raised by Jewish-Italian parents in a racially homogenous New York suburb. I grew up different — in color, in culture, in story — without knowledge of my ancestry or the language to make sense of my belonging. So I watched. Observed. Learned the systems and the silences. I became fluent in nuance: I am this, I am not that. I belong, I don’t. I participate, I observe.
As a kid, I figured out that achievement opened doors. Good grades. Gifted programs. Mastery through hours upon hours of practice on the violin. I learned that if I could be excellent, I could prove myself to a world that underestimated me. Being smart became my armor. Excellence, my strategy. Control, my safety.
At NYU, I studied violin, then sociology, and eventually organizational behavior. I dreamed of the Peace Corps — and eventually joined — but began my career in management consulting to pay off student loans and step into a kind of power I thought might finally level the playing field. I was articulate, high-performing, and people saw me as a leader. But I knew, even early on, that something didn’t quite fit.
For a long time, I kept certain parts of myself on the margins. My intuition. My emotional depth. My spiritual grounding. My creativity. The wisdom of my body. Corporate pressures — and a narrow definition of success — told me to keep those things out. So I straddled two worlds: launching major initiatives with Fortune 500s while taking sabbaticals to live in Guatemala, travel Southeast Asia, and study systems of global power. I wanted to understand not just how things worked — but why they broke. And who they left behind.
And that’s why I was bored in corporate. I wanted more. Not more responsibility, not more compensation — but more truth. More purpose. More humanity. Now, I see that the very qualities I once sidelined are the ones most needed to lead in times that demand more presence than performance.
Today I dedicate my work to helping leaders reincorporate those ways of knowing — emotional intelligence, embodied presence, inner wisdom — into the heart of leadership with a vision for more conscious organizations and a more conscious world.
In my own life, I am committed to remembering and radically reclaiming the power of my being, while supporting my clients to do the same. What would be possible if we were all to live — and lead — from truth?
That thread — the pursuit of human development, systems change, and soul-level honesty — runs through every chapter of my life.
my here and now.
Today, I live in Taos, New Mexico—on the ancestral, traditional, and contemporary lands of the Taos Pueblo, Ute, Lipan Apache, and Tiwa peoples.
What brought me here wasn’t strategy. It was an embodied intuition — a knowing beyond logic that this was where my next chapter would begin.
This is my creative and spiritual season. A time of rooting into what’s essential. I’m letting go of the strategies that once kept me safe. Claiming the life I know I’m here to lead.
This isn’t a pivot.
This is a reclamation.
A long-awaited return.
In this chapter, I work across dimensions — as an executive coach, co-founder of Chiefable, Jivamukti yoga teacher, and graduate student of mindfulness-based transpersonal counseling.
I bring more than two decades of global leadership, spiritual and psychological training, and a lived commitment to integration.
Range and depth.
Structure and spaciousness.
Intellect and intuition.
My work is about remembering. Returning. Reclaiming.
what i offer.
I work at two levels: individual and organizational.
Through my private practice, I work one-on-one with senior leaders making a personal investment in their development. These are often inflection points—times of quiet reckoning, renewal, or redefinition. Our work is bespoke, rigorous, and human. Together, we create the space to pause, reflect, and reconnect with what’s true—beyond roles, expectations, or performance.
Through Chiefable, the leadership and organizational development firm I co-founded, I work with executives, teams, and systems to develop modern leadership for a changing world. Our approach is integrative and emergent. We bring deep experience in strategy, leadership, and human development into dialogue with real-time business challenges.
Whether in one-on-one sessions or inside organizations, my work is about helping people return to what’s essential—so they can lead with greater clarity, integrity, and impact.
stay close.
If something in this story resonates, you’re invited to stay close.
Whether you’re navigating a threshold of your own, sensing a deeper truth emerging, or simply ready for an honest conversation, I welcome it.
This work begins gently. With a breath. With presence. With a willingness to return to what’s already yours.