The resume doesn't make sense. That's the point.

Kicked out of college. Dropped into uncertainty. It was the most useful thing that ever happened to me.

That disorientation forced me to learn the one skill nobody teaches: how to walk when you don't know where you're going.

I went to law school — not for a career in law, but for the awareness. Andrea and I built a hospitality company and Colorado's top boutique inn, from nothing, in a town where no one thought it would work. I taught innovation and entrepreneurship at universities for fifteen years, building programs where people had to navigate real uncertainty. Andrea ran organizational transformations at Fortune 50 scale, then built the operational infrastructure behind everything we do now.

Every domain taught the same lesson. Law taught seeing clearly through complexity. The kitchen taught leadership under pressure. Building a hospitality company taught intention and discovery simultaneously. Teaching taught how to develop these capacities in others.

Then AI arrived, and what had been a useful skill set became an essential one. The question went from "how do you leave the path?" to "what do you do when there is no path?" We'd been living that question for twenty years.

WILD Intelligence is the formal framework for what I'd been practicing all along. Not theory from a desk. Practice from a life spent crossing unmapped territory.