Nine years ago, I climbed to the top—and found myself quietly questioning everything. I had followed leaders I admired, built the systems, held the line... but I hadn’t built a relationship with my own why. I was leading, yes—but from misalignment. Silent burnout set in. High-performing on the outside, numb on the inside.

My recovery from overachievement wasn’t a straight line. It was deep, still, soul work. Rooted in reflection, shaped by my Japanese heritage, and softened by the truth that leadership is not a destination—it’s a becoming.

Now I guide others to find a sustainable, evolving path. Because real purpose doesn’t burn you out. It brings you home. Read More…

Last week, I hit the ebb. The wave I’d been riding—the ideas, the energy, the progress—started to fade. I felt stuck. Not broken, but heavy. Like I was paddling hard with no momentum behind me.

Instead of forcing my way forward, I did something I rarely used to: I paused. I listened. I looked at the data, my rhythms, and what nature always teaches—after the swell comes stillness.

In Japanese philosophy, there’s a word: 間 (Ma). It’s the space between things—not empty, but full of possibility. The kanji shows a gate, with sunlight shining through. It’s the pause that lets the light back in.

This week, I remembered: you don’t lose progress in the pause. You find your power there. Read More…