I grew up between languages and cultures, never entirely belonging to one. Over time, the space between them became where I felt most at home. Language became my way into the deeper layers of another culture — its instincts, its humour, its way of seeing. Russian taught me this most vividly. When you can make someone laugh in another language, you have crossed a border that vocabulary alone cannot cross.
Naturopathy gave me another question: how does all of this live in the mind and body?
Some of the most valuable knowledge I have encountered never travelled beyond its language, culture, profession or country. So I became something of a naturopathic nomad — going where there was something worth learning rather than waiting for knowledge to arrive at my door.
Crossing borders became more than geography. It became a way of working — between countries and disciplines, measurable biology and lived experience, old traditions and contemporary research, what we know and what we still have the humility to question.
The practice, the journeys east, the conversations, The Siberian Briefs and the book I am writing all return to the same larger question: What allows us not merely to function, but to live fully?
Much of what I know that matters, I learned from someone who had no reason to teach me.
And then there’s comedy
I believe laughter is one of our greatest medicines.
I do stand-up because humour gets beneath our defences. It lets us look at ourselves, our contradictions and our absurdities — and take ourselves a little less seriously.
For me, laughter and self-awareness belong together. Both make it easier to accept who we are, connect more deeply with others, and live more fully. And occasionally, I get the privilege of being the entertainment.
My practice is where these threads meet — mind, body, biography and biology. I look for what they reveal together.
Explore my practiceAliveness