My Reunion Tour

For most of my career, I was a builder.

I launched things. I led teams. I had what I'd call a golden touch — an ability to walk into a room with a problem and walk out with a plan.

That identity served me well for decades.

And then, at 59, it stopped working.

I relaunched a consulting practice with complete confidence.
Six months passed. Then eight.
Not one client.

The coping mechanism I had always relied on — the one that had never truly failed me — went quiet.

And for the first time in my adult life, I didn't know what to stand on.

What followed was five years I could not have engineered.

Spiritual direction with Sibyl Towner.

The oneLife Maps — four honest portraits of a life I had never fully looked at.

Grief. Lament.

The slow, daily writing of nearly 1,000 poems.

I am not a poet.

I wrote the poems because they were the only way I could hold the question without running from it.

One poem. One photograph. One day at a time.

It ended with a ceremony — a speech I wrote for no audience, eventually read aloud to the people I love most.

Naming who I had been. Honoring what that person had built. Committing out loud to become someone different.
Something moved.

I am not the same person who started that journey.

Most people who know me now have never met the person I was before.

My Reunion Tour grew from everything I found in those five years.

It is not a program I developed from a distance.

It is a journey I survived — and came to love.

I'm still on it.

I bring to this work not expertise, but presence.

Not distance, but five years of unfolding that I'm still living.

I am not a theorist. I am a fellow traveler who happens to have five years of unfolding to share.

Every element of this program has been walked before it was offered.

That is the only credential that matters here.