About Eric Alan

I’ve been drawn to the same thing my whole life, even when I didn’t have words for it — the moment when presence becomes palpable. When something ordinary suddenly carries weight. A conversation that opens. Trees moving in wind. The feeling of being genuinely seen.

That search has taken me through a lot of different territories. I spent years building and running a coffee shop — which sounds unrelated until you understand that what I loved about it was the intersection of craft and presence. Holding a space where people could slow down, feel met, let the head and hands and heart come into alignment for a moment.

When I was young, someone I loved died. It cracked something open. It changed the direction of my inner life. I found my way toward Buddhism, Hinduism, and eventually animism and shamanism — ways of understanding that recognize the aliveness in all things, and the relationships we’re always already in, whether we notice them or not. I recently entered a formal apprenticeship within shamanic traditions, though this path has been unfolding in me for much longer than that.

I’ve also done my own hard work. I know what it’s like to carry something difficult — to be wired for attunement in a way that’s both a gift and sometimes a weight. That’s part of what brought me here. And it’s part of what I bring.

My work is informed by parts-based perspectives, relational practice, and earth-based traditions. I’m not a licensed therapist and this isn’t clinical treatment. But it isn’t casual either. It’s careful, human, unhurried support — for people who are ready to pay attention to what’s actually happening.

I live off-grid in Vermont, close to the land and the seasons. That’s not incidental to the work. It’s part of the same thing.