My Path

A Life Lived Between Worlds

My path has never been linear, and I have come to understand that this is not an handicap but a capacity. From early on, I learned to move between worlds: analytical and intuitive, individual and collective, human and more-than-human. I was trained as an anthropologist, with a strong focus on culture, organization, and systems, and I spent many formative years working with and in China. These experiences shaped my ability to observe social dynamics, sense underlying patterns, and understand how meaning is created in relationship rather than in isolation.

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From Knowing to Facilitating

Working at the university taught me something essential: real learning does not happen through hierarchy or authority, but through facilitation. I learned to say “I don’t know—what do you think?” and to trust collective intelligence. This laid the foundation for how I work today with groups and communities. I became skilled in sensing group dynamics, navigating complexity, and holding spaces where different perspectives can coexist without needing to collapse into one truth.

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Relational Cultures and Autonomy

During my years in China, I encountered what I later came to call relational culture—distinct from both individualism and collectivism. Individualism, especially in capitalist and bureaucratic systems, often leads to isolation and disconnection from life. Collectivism tends to suppress autonomy and creativity through conformity. Relational cultures, by contrast, honor autonomous beings who are deeply embedded in networks of meaningful relationships. This insight has stayed with me ever since and continues to inform my work with individuals, communities, and ecosystems.

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The Individual Beyond Labels

My anthropological interest gradually shifted from cultures as systems to individuals as relational beings. Not as citizens, workers, or consumers, but as autonomous persons in dialogue with their environment. This curiosity later led me into counseling and personal accompaniment. Across different professional contexts, including healthcare and social work, I consistently noticed how autonomy and relationality were missing—and how transformative it was when they were restored.

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Queerness as Freedom, Nature as Home

Two threads run through my entire life: queerness and nature. Long before I had words for them, I sensed that I did not fit into binary structures—neither in gender, identity, nor in how life itself wants to be lived. Queerness, for me, is not an identity to defend but a spacious container that allows complexity, fluidity, and difference to exist without apology. Nature has always mirrored this truth back to me. In gardens and landscapes, I experience a deep homecoming: a place where life resists categorization, where fragility and resilience coexist, and where belonging does not have to be earned.

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Writing as Sense-Making

Writing has always been my way of organizing reality. From my academic work and published thesis to my current book on communities, writing helps me articulate what is emerging, especially in complex or transitional times. It is not about having answers, but about creating clarity that invites movement. This is also how I approach my work with others.