About Stuart

---

From a young age, I sensed that life held something more—something most people weren’t talking about. While others seemed content with the visible, the measurable, the obvious, I was drawn to the spaces in between. I noticed energy in a room before words were spoken. I felt people’s emotions, even when they tried to hide them. I couldn’t explain it at the time, but I just knew things—deeply and instinctively.

It was as if the world had layers, and I was born seeing just a little further beneath the surface.

This sensitivity made me feel different, and for a while, I tried to quiet it down, to blend in. But the call never stopped humming beneath my skin. It wasn’t loud, but it was constant. A quiet invitation to listen more deeply, to feel more fully, to remember something that had no name—only a pulse.

Eventually, that sense of “more” became a quest. I wanted to understand what I had always felt. I believed the answers must live in science, so I threw myself into study—pre-med, anatomy, biology, psychology. I wanted to heal, and I thought knowledge was the key. But the deeper I went into the system, the more I began to see the cracks.

The body was treated like a machine. The mind and emotions were separate. Spirit wasn’t even in the equation.

It felt… off. Incomplete. I started asking questions the textbooks couldn’t answer.

So I followed intuition instead. I traveled, studied, and opened myself to ancient teachings across Asia. I sat with masters who offered no syllabus—only presence. I learned to work with energy, to listen to silence, to heal not through fixing but through remembering.

This wasn’t about information. It was about transformation.

And piece by piece, I began to weave the fragments of my understanding into something whole.

Now, in my fifties, something in me has softened—and strengthened.

This work I once carried quietly, sometimes on the edges of my life, has moved to the center. It’s no longer a side note. It’s the melody. The pulse. The breath.

Innerphoria isn’t just a practice or a brand—it’s a living space. A field of awareness for those ready to come home to themselves. For those who feel the tug, the ache, the curiosity... and are brave enough to follow it.

The world is shifting. We all feel it. Beneath the noise and uncertainty, something sacred is stirring. What was once buried is rising. What was hidden is being remembered.

And so, I step forward—not as someone with all the answers, but as someone who’s walked the path, stumbled plenty, and still chooses to walk with heart wide open. This is the work of our time: to return to presence. To reclaim our wholeness. To hold space for each other as we awaken, rise, and begin again.

The timing? It’s not late. It’s not early.
It’s perfect.
Because presence only ever lives in one place—right here, right now.