A Personal Note

I learned early how to be with myself. Not in isolation, not as retreat — but as companionship.

I would wake, get dressed, and sit with my own mind as though entering a private cinema. There is a screen behind the eyes where the old films play: the inherited stories, the roles we were handed, the patterns that became entire architectures of identity. I learned to watch them without flinching. Not to fix or banish them, but to see them — their timing, their loops, the moments where the self tried to emerge and was asked to shrink instead. I learned to love my own company. Not as a preference, but as a return. A remembering of who I am when no one is looking. Most people dress for the world outside. I dressed for the one within. For presence. For clarity. For reunion with myself. This became my real training: the ability to witness the psyche without becoming the performance. To feel the shape beneath the costume. To recognise when the story has expired — and when something ancient is trying to rise.

It is from here that The House of Living Alchemy was born: The work of returning to the self beneath the persona — and then shaping the home, the life, the language, to reflect that self faithfully. This is my field: inner remembering, outer recomposition, self and space brought back into coherence.

I did not enter this field through theory, training, or aspiration. I arrived because the self I had been carrying finally collapsed under its own weight. There was a time when I realised I had been going through the motions of my life instead of truly inhabiting it. The clothes, achievements, rooms, and conversations — all finely arranged, beautifully curated, and wholly disconnected from the person inside.

So I stopped. I stopped trying to be impressive. I stopped trying to be understood. I stopped trying to shape myself to remain acceptable. I dressed only for the cinema of the mind — a private screening room where my thoughts, patterns, and archetypes played like old films. I watched. I listened. I didn’t look away. Slowly, the borrowed identities loosened their grip. The original voice — the one beneath effort — returned.

This is the foundation of my work.

The House of Living Alchemy exists because inner change doesn’t complete itself in isolation. When the self returns, the world around it must also shift — the room, the home, the atmosphere, the way one moves, speaks, breathes, and chooses.

I work at the seam where the inner self is remembering itself, and the outer world must readjust to welcome it.

Identity and environment. Myth and matter. Within and without. One movement, two expressions.

My work is not about becoming more. It’s about coming back.

“I dressed for the cinema of the mind — and watched myself return.”

If you are here, it's likely that something within you is already shifting. An old plot no longer fits. The mask has thinned. And the home — inner or outer — is asking to be rewoven.

Welcome.