About Ben
If you’ve ever felt like you don’t quite fit the mould, this might sound familiar.
"I work with capable, driven men who look successful on the outside but feel stuck, disconnected or quietly dissatisfied underneath. This page explains why – and how my work is shaped by walking that path myself."
For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt slightly different. Comfortable in many worlds, but never fully defined by just one. As one of my rugby mates once put it,
“Ben, I can’t place you. Are you a corporate jock or a wandering hippy?”
Over time, I’ve come to see this as standing on a bridge.
Not because I couldn’t choose a side, but because I could see value on both.
That position has shaped my life, my work, and in turn is what has brought men to my events, retreats, community and coaching. A recognition that there is more to life than the box they’ve been confined to.
However, most men have normalised a life of quiet compromise, constant pressure, and low-grade dissatisfaction. They’ve taken a million small blows inside a box and called it “life”. Under these odds, even where great “success” is concerned, life can feel strangely hollow.
I don’t buy it, and therefore I don’t stand for it.
We can all look backwards and judge our past, but categorically, no one wants a shit future. So when I stumbled upon coaching and learnt how to use my abilities as someone standing on a bridge, it all began to click into place. For me, and for others.
If there’s one thing I caught from my parents, who’ve lived the wildest life imaginable, it’s an unrelenting curiosity, mostly about people.
This curiosity has always led me. It’s opened doors. It’s helped me land on my feet wherever I’ve gone. And it’s shown me, again and again, that a fuller, more epic life is available to men who are willing to step outside the box they’ve inherited.
Bridging the Gap.
What's Changed
Over Time.
Growth
In my early adult years, I chased experience hard.
I followed the sun. I avoided winters. I stacked adventure on top of adventure. By my mid-twenties, I had more outward experiences than most people fit into a lifetime. I completely underestimated the value of stopping. As I neared my thirties, I entered a new phase of growth, one that didn’t come from adventure or novel experiences, but from discipline. The kind of discipline that only appears when you finally choose to stay in one place long enough to work, reflect, and build something properly.
Self-destruction
Growth, I would come to learn, isn’t always what it’s made out to be. I was doing everything “right”. Earning well. Training hard. Improving constantly. Winning, by most external measures. And yet my body and relationships were taking a hit. I was tense, reactive, arguing more than I liked, distancing myself from people I cared about, getting injured, getting sick. I’d become very good at managing burnout, something many business owners will recognise. A chance meeting with a physiotherapist, who also happened to be a nervous system coach, changed everything. She showed me just how fried my nervous system was, and how no amount of growth, pushing harder, or being more disciplined was going to fix it.
Enough
Like so many men, I believed the good life came from more. More money, more status, more adventure, more progress. In reality, the good life came from finding my version of “enough”. True freedom, I’ve learned, is building a life around that point, where anything beyond it becomes a bonus. In many ways, I’ve returned to standing on that bridge between worlds. Recognising for myself, and for others, that to truly have the life we want, we must first understand what we need, before chasing what we want.
I live on the stunning South Devon coastline, moving between our home in Kingsbridge and a small farm we’re slowly turning into our future home. I coach three days a week, with the remaining time given to the other projects that inevitably find their way into my life. Soooo many projects.
Each year, I return to South Africa for at least a month. I still seek out adventure. Recent trips have included hitchhiking in Patagonia, canoeing the fjords of Finland, and trekking in the Himalayas of Pakistan. Closer to home, there are plenty of inland adventures in Doris, our much-loved camper van.
Life feels rich, challenging, and meaningful. There’s space for work and play, for ambition and rest, and for taking care of the future version of myself and my family.
Where I Am Now.
Today, my life is a physical embodiment of that bridge.
Recent Adventures.
Each year, I return to South Africa for at least a month. I still seek out adventure.
A Final Note.
I’m fallible. I’m still learning. And I take responsibility for the life I’m building.
At regular points each year, I work with my own business coach and therapist. Not because something is wrong, but because it helps me strike the balance between growth and enough. Any coach who doesn’t recognise they need help is, in my view, in the wrong profession.
If you’ve made it this far, the truth is most men don’t spend this kind of time reading about another man unless something here resonates.
If you’re looking for a fuller, truly epic way of living, with the support of someone who genuinely wants that for you, let’s chat.