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 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 nature-based and shamanic 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 want 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.