If you knew you couldn’t fail, what would you choose?
Together we’ll find your answer.
There’s a path... and then there’s
YOUR path
Maybe you feel like you thought you knew what you wanted, but now you’re not so sure.
Maybe it feels like everything plateaued and you don’t know how to get moving again.
Maybe you feel like you’re woking really hard and taking all the right steps, but it’s getting you nowhere except tired and treading water.
Maybe you can see a chapter of your life closing (graduation, a failed relationship, round 3 of layoffs at your company) and you have absolutely no clue what’s next.
Maybe your whole life as you knew it just went up in flames, and now you’re staring at the unknown unsure where to turn.
Maybe you have a dream, and can see it clearly, but everyone you confide is saying to be more practical.
The beautiful thing about being a human is that we are all unique beings that have different gifts, needs, and desires.
We all bring something special to the table.
That’s why trying to follow a logical, cookie-cutter path towards destiny doesn’t work the same way for everyone.
That’s why
YOUR PATH matters
SO MUCH.
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”