Embodied Philosophy

I credit practices that engage my mind and body for giving me an increased sense of presence, well-being, and groundedness. The efficacy of these practices can be expanded upon when done in communion with others.

The first 10 years after I graduated from college were purely about survival. I lived in San Francisco, a very expensive city, and an entry level architect's salary did not go far. I had to work hard to pay rent, and I had little to no extra money for therapy of any kind, or art classes, art supplies, or studio space. I got through it, but it did not feel like a comfortable or sustainable lifestyle.

One thing that did get me through it: I fell in love with surfing. Thankfully, it was a relatively affordable pastime — and incredibly immersive, often literally. For as many waves as you caught, there were 10 that you didn't, which often meant being tossed upside down into the sea. My favorite part was popping my head back up in the frothy fizzy sea foam, looking back at the land, and inhaling the salty air. I felt at one with the landscape. That was a new and novel feeling for me.

After I moved to Austin and completed my masters degree, I had a moment to catch my breath and re-evaluate my career. I had to give up surfing, but I fell in love with welding during my last semester of grad school. Though I was on track for a tenure track teaching position, I instead landed a role at a local design-build architecture firm — where I could design a project at my desk, weld it in the shop, then install it on site (with my team). I had never felt so WHOLE. It made me realize I felt mentally and physically better when using my body and mind in tandem. I continued working in fabrication shops for the next 10 years.

Near the end of my professional welding career, I started paying closer attention to trees. I took long walks to observe and document them, put in serious field hours, and created an illustrated field guide to Austin's most unusual and quirky trees. These days I lead group explorations around the topic of trees, on bike and on foot. Most recently I've started climbing them. While looking at trees feels good, climbing them barefoot feels even better. It's been a revealing journey into what I'd call relational knowledge.

Somewhere between the frothy Pacific, a welding torch, and the canopy of an Austin live oak, I accumulated something I didn't have a name for — a way of coming back to myself through the body and through the world. What social work offers me is the chance to make that knowledge useful to others, particularly those for whom conventional pathways to wellbeing have been inaccessible, ineffective, or simply never offered.

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I believe in open-ended exploration.
I believe the absurd can be therapeutic.
I believe in movement.
I believe in curiosity.
I believe in the power of attention.
I believe in the power of trees.
I believe in the power of community.
I believe in the body-mind connection — and that the more we cultivate it, the better we feel.