I know this terrain
from the inside.
For more than two decades, I've worked at the nexus of climate, food systems, regenerative agriculture, and justice, from Indigenous communities across Latin America to international leadership roles across global nonprofits.
I first came to Guatemala as a Peace Corps volunteer and eventually made it my home. Living and working in a Maya Q’eqchi’ community profoundly shaped how I understand relationship, reciprocity, belonging, and change. It also taught me that the best ideas rarely belong to one person. They grow through relationships, trust, curiosity, and the willingness to imagine that something could be different. That belief has followed me throughout my personal and professional life.
I’ve always been drawn to big and seemingly outrageous ideas, especially the ones that start with what if?
What if we could transform the cardamom supply chain in Guatemala so Indigenous producers had greater opportunity, value-add and agency?
What if the global coffee and cacao trade could work differently, and farmers could have more power in the systems that determine the value of what they produce?
What if an ancient, little known, wild-harvested non-timber super food could be introduced to global specialty tea and wellness markets, without harming the regenerative capacity of the trees in the Maya Biosphere Reserve's Community Forest Concessions?
What if the smallholder-dominated palm oil sector in Honduras could move beyond individual projects and make a national commitment to zero deforestation, and actually build the systems to measure it?
I’ve had the privilege of helping turn ideas like these into something real. Some began as little more than conversations and possibilities. They required building unlikely partnerships, taking risks, navigating conflict, challenging assumptions, and convincing other people to see something that didn’t quite exist yet.
I loved that work. I loved the creativity of it. The uncertainty. The people. The moment when an idea began to catch fire and other people started carrying it too.
And I also learned how consuming that kind of work can become.
I experienced burnout myself; not the kind that comes from not caring about your work, but in some ways the opposite. I cared enormously. The work was exciting and meaningful and often all-consuming. There was always another opportunity, another problem to solve, another risk worth taking.
For a long time, I was very good at overriding my own limits.
So the question I’ve carried with me has expanded to:
How do we continue doing meaningful work without losing ourselves in the process?
How do we stay open to the ideas, creativity, and possibility that make us feel most alive?
Both questions are at the heart of Resilience Rising.
This work is rooted in the belief that resilience is not about pushing harder or enduring more. It’s about staying connected to what matters, to one another, and to the living systems that sustain us. It’s about creating the conditions for reflection, honesty, rest, and reconnection in the midst of urgency.
My approach draws from living systems thinking, conflict transformation, and somatic and reflective practices. But more than anything, it is shaped by years of walking alongside people doing difficult and deeply meaningful work: people striving to lead, serve, build, and care for others while navigating the complexities of a world in transition.
Resilience Rising exists to tend the fire within. I support people in recovering and sustaining their energy, clarity, and joy so their work can remain life-giving over the long arc of change.
Lasting systems change requires people who are not only committed, but resourced. Not only resilient, but alive.
A Living Philosophy
My work is grounded in regeneration, systems thinking, and the belief that the way we live and lead shapes the world around us.
I’m interested in what keeps us alive and engaged in the work and lives we care about—what sustains us, what consumes us, and what happens when a new idea, possibility, or direction begins to take shape.
Instead of focusing solely on performance or outcomes, I’m interested in how we want to show up in the world, what we want to tend, and what it means to live and lead in a way that makes room for the whole of our lives.
That means paying attention to what is happening now. What is taking too much? What is giving something back? What might need to change? And what are we curious about, drawn toward, or ready to explore?
I believe the inner work and the outer work are reciprocal. What we tend within ourselves shapes what becomes possible in our relationships, our work, and the wider systems we are part of.
For me, this is what a regenerative way of living asks of us: not simply how we keep going, but how we remain connected, curious, creative, and alive along the way.