My path into the heart began in the presence of its fragility.
Working as an EKG technician in a community hospital, I witnessed the immediacy of life and death—hearts failing, rhythms collapsing, lives ending in real time. These were not abstractions. They were moments that asked to be understood.
And yet, even as I moved further into the scientific and technological study of the heart, something in me knew that what I was witnessing could not be fully accounted for by mechanism alone. The heart revealed itself as more than a pump. It carried a kind of intelligence—a responsiveness, a knowing—that did not fit neatly within the frameworks I had been trained to use.
This recognition did not arrive as a single moment, but as a growing dissonance. I began to sense that I was moving along a path I had outgrown, one that no longer allowed for a fuller expression of what I knew, or felt, to be true. My life was asking for a different orientation—one that could include, but not be limited to, the scientific model.
I continued into the field of heart monitoring technologies, eventually serving as a Director of Engineering, where my teams and I designed systems to support and protect the lives of those with serious cardiac conditions. Our work was meaningful and precise. It saved lives.
But the deeper question remained.
What lies upstream of the conditions we are trying to manage?
What if the origins of imbalance could be met before crisis, before intervention?
This question led me beyond the purely mechanistic view of the body and into the study of mythology, depth psychology, and contemplative traditions. I earned a doctorate in Mythological Studies with an emphasis in Depth Psychology in order to explore what earlier cultures understood about the heart, the nervous system, and the relationship between psyche and soma. My doctoral work, Speaking to the Cardiologist through Myth and Metaphor, reflected this attempt to bring symbolic and scientific ways of knowing into dialogue.
Across these traditions, a different picture of the heart began to emerge—one in which the heart participates in perception itself. Not only responding to life, but helping to shape how life is known and experienced.
What I came to recognize is that this way of knowing has long been present, though often obscured. In many traditions, it is named Sophia—a living intelligence through which perception deepens and meaning becomes possible.
Through Sophia, the wisdom of the heart expands the evolution of human consciousness beyond a one-sided reliance on logos—rational, analytical thought—toward more relational and embodied forms of awareness. In this widening, something more than the individual is restored: a reconnection with the living world, what depth psychology has called the anima mundi.
My work now lives at the intersection of these ways of knowing.
Kundalini Yoga and meditation have been central to my personal practice, offering a direct, embodied way of working with breath, nervous system, and awareness. HeartMath technologies have also remained an important companion, providing measurable insight into heart–brain coherence. I continue to value the precision of science, while recognizing that it is one expression within a broader field of intelligence.
Like many, I have also experienced the loss of loved ones to heart disease. My mother’s passing deepened my understanding that the heart is not only a clinical concern, but a profoundly human one—one that calls for participation, not only intervention.
MetaHeart Center emerges from this integration.
It is a space devoted to restoring the heart as a center of perception and coherence—where body, psyche, and imagination come back into relationship, and where what has been set aside may again become available to awareness.