Before the accolades, before the stage lights, before the striving, there was joy.

At five years old, I was choreographing dances in my backyard, building worlds with music and movement. By fifteen, I was emancipated, living alone, dancing professionally, and performing on national television. I trained at Juilliard, became a choreographer, and had my work presented across the world. From the outside, I had arrived. But inside, I was crumbling.

I built my life around being exceptional. But behind every achievement was a deeper hunger—to prove, to be chosen, to be enough. I was always performing, on stage and off. Beneath the polish was exhaustion, disconnection, and an ache for something real.

Then my father died. And soon after, I became chronically ill. I didn’t have the strength to keep going the way I had. I couldn’t perform. I couldn’t produce. I was forced to stop.

In that stillness, I picked up a Buddhist book—and something broke open. I took refuge with Mingyur Rinpoche and received Nature of Mind teachings. I lived and trained at Land of the Medicine Buddha. I’ve studied with masters like Lama Lakshey Zangpo, Kalu Rinpoche, and Drubpon Pema Rigdzin, and sat for hundreds of hours in meditation. I’ve kept a daily practice for over eight years.

Buddhism didn’t give me something new to strive toward. It asked me to let go. Of the image. Of the ambition. Of the need to become someone. It made me more honest. More open. More human.

These days, I live differently. I left the city. I live closer to the land. I spend my mornings in silence, in practice. I’ve returned to movement, but no longer as performance. I dance to pray. I create to listen. I teach from what I’ve lived and I've never been happier.

I work with people who are at a threshold—the artist who lost their voice, the seeker disillusioned with the spiritual world, the sensitive soul who’s spent years hiding, those grieving what they thought they couldn’t live without.

I don’t offer strategies or quick fixes. I offer space. Practice. Conversation. We move through the body. We explore what hurts. We ask better questions. We let what’s true find its way to the surface. If you’re ready to meet your life with more truth—and live a life that feels like yours—this is for you.