financial parallel: portfolio check-in
presence, relationships, and nature. regular recalibration — adjusting when the fundamentals change.
Origin Story
One surprising consequence of struggling with asthma and allergies in my younger years was how they kept me from being fully present. As my body fought for oxygen, I unknowingly stayed in a constant state of stress — what’s often called the sympathetic nervous system state. Living in this heightened state of survival meant I was always exhausted, which left me vulnerable to the endless chatter of my mind.
Much of my time was spent either catastrophizing about the future or ruminating on the past, caught in intense inner dialogues that felt more real than the world around me.
I found myself arguing with people who weren’t there, reliving past events, and worrying about things that hadn’t happened yet — all without ever being truly present.
It seems like the antidote would be to just focus on being present, right? We hear that a lot: “live in the moment,” “practice mindfulness.”
But I’ve realized that presence alone isn’t enough. If we’re hyper-aware of discomfort or nagging thoughts, simply being present can feel unbearable — like being stuck in a room with an obnoxious song blaring at full volume. In moments of suffering — whether physical, mental, or emotional — we often want to be anywhere but here.
That’s where attunement comes in. For me, attunement is the combination of being present and adjusting how I experience that presence. It’s like tuning a radio dial to find a clearer, more pleasant frequency.
Attunement means checking in with myself in real time, making micro-adjustments to how I’m feeling, and learning to ride the wave of reality rather than resist it.
The goal is to create harmony between my inner and outer worlds. When I’m attuned, even the most mundane tasks can feel deeply satisfying.
Attunement practices help me stay present and enjoy life, even in moments that might otherwise feel ordinary. They also act as a kind of first aid when I find myself in stressful or triggering situations.
Protocols / Resources
For me, attunement is all about rhythm — the cadence with which I move through the day.
My mornings set the tone. When I wake up, my first goal is to capture a feeling of aliveness. This starts with my morning exercise routine — lifting weights, stretching, taking a sauna, and then plunging into cold water. I do all of this outside, watching the sun rise and syncing my circadian rhythm with the natural rhythms of the Earth.
One thing I’ve learned is how important it is to do this in my own energy, before my family wakes up. When we all wake up at the same time, I feel like I’m swept into the collective energy of the household. By giving myself space in the early morning, I can attune to my own sense of aliveness, setting a cadence that helps me stay grounded throughout the day.
Another key practice I’ve found is what I call “maximizing the mundane.” It’s one thing to be fully present during peak moments of adrenaline or creativity. Yet, those experiences account for only a small percentage of our time. What does it look like to be attuned when answering emails, taking work calls, or doing chores?
I’ve developed small practices to help myself attune in these mundane situations so I can be fully present in the moment, for example, turning my attention to the soothing feeling of warm water on my hands when I wash the dishes.
I try to stack attunement practices with other activities. For example, I’ll take meetings outside or switch Zoom calls to phone calls so I can walk while I talk. When I’m moving and engaged with the world around me, I’m more creative, more connected, and more present. It also gives me a chance to ground myself by standing in the sun or walking barefoot on the grass.
These simple practices help me reconnect with the rhythms of nature and stay attuned throughout the day.
I’ve also noticed a profound difference as I’ve been wearing minimalist shoes, designed to help me Earth. I currently rotate between a pair of Lems and a pair of Earth Runners, depending on the weather.
Our ancestors used to walk seven or eight miles a day, scanning the horizon and connecting with their environment. I like to keep this in mind, especially since modern life often moves at a pace far beyond what our bodies evolved to handle. When I’m stuck in front of a computer for more than two hours, I notice my nervous system getting agitated. Stepping outside and gazing at the Sierra Nevada mountain range helps me soften my focus and return to a sense of calm.
Deeper Why
I first became aware of the importance of attunement when I was feeling lost and disconnected in my career. In my early 20s, I left legacy finance because it was literally putting me to sleep at my desk. I had achieved what I thought I wanted — a stable career in finance — but it felt like my life force was draining away. I didn’t have a sense of purpose, and I was simply going through the motions. That’s when I decided to pursue a PhD in the Philosophy of Rhetoric. I believed that studying something deeply meaningful would fill the void and offer the kind of intellectual fulfillment I was craving.
While the subject matter fascinated me, pretty much the moment I finished my dissertation, I realized academia didn’t provide the connection I was seeking. It was intellectually stimulating, but at the same time, it felt abstract, isolated, and disconnected from the real world. I was immersed in ideas, but I wasn’t anchored in something tangible. That left me feeling untethered — like my mind was full, but my body and soul were starving for connection.
Then, something unexpected happened. My parents — lifelong dairy farmers — asked me to help manage an investment they had made in commercial property. They reached out because of my experience in finance, but for me, the decision to help them was a no-brainer. It wasn’t just about using my skills; it was about supporting the people who meant the most to me.
That experience was a turning point. For the first time, I saw how my work could have both personal meaning and practical impact.
Helping my parents manage their investment grounded me in the real world, in relationships, and in purpose. It was the first time I felt fully attuned in my work, and that feeling of attunement started to spread into other areas of my life.
It wasn’t just about numbers and finance anymore — it was about how I could use my skills to make a real difference for the people I cared about. It was also a reminder of how my family’s history — rooted in the hard work and physical demands of dairy farming — had shaped my understanding of what it means to be present, connected, and engaged in life.
Prior to this, I had experienced attunement in my personal life, especially through my decade of hiking in the high desert of Nevada and leading rites of passage. Those experiences taught me how to inhabit my whole body, to move with intention, and to find stillness within movement. But I had never integrated that sense of attunement into my professional life until I helped my parents.
That’s when I realized that the same principles I applied to my body, nature, and close relationships could also be applied to my work, my finances, and even my relationship with money itself.
This moment of realization invited me to expand my attunement protocols to every area of my life. I began looking at how I could stay attuned not just to my body or my close friends, but also to my work colleagues, my investor network, and the broader systems I interacted with. It became clear to me that attunement wasn’t just about personal well-being — it was also about aligning my work, relationships, and resources with the things that matter most.
What’s Next?
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on my father’s life as a dairy farmer. For him, money seemed simple on the surface: it was the result of hard labor — hours spent milking cows before dawn, tending the herd, and running the farm. His sweat transformed into the money that fed our family and clothed us. It was a straightforward exchange of labor for value.
But even for him, money’s relationship to his work was far from simple. A sudden shift in weather, fluctuating market demand, or a sick cow could upend everything. The same effort could yield dramatically different results. These external forces, while subtle in his world, were powerful and ever-present.
As an investment fund manager, those external forces are not a background hum — they’re central to my work. My role is to assess risk and opportunity across financial, social, environmental, and emotional dimensions, tuning into the entire ecosystem of money to align it with positive change, particularly in real estate. This work allows me to explore money’s dual nature: its grammar — the mechanics of how it functions — and its poetry — the meaning and alignment behind its use.
It also gives me the space to ask bigger, more personal questions:
- Am I operating from scarcity or abundance?
- Are my financial decisions an extension of my values?
- Do fear or past losses cloud my clarity, or am I approaching money with trust and purpose?
These reflections recently inspired me to host a discussion called Beyond the Numbers: How Money Shapes Our Work and Lives. It was an opportunity to unpack money’s emotional baggage, explore its mysteries, and see it not just as a tool for mastery, but as a force that connects us through shared trust and faith. For me, attuning to money is as vital as attuning to my body, spirit, and relationships. Money flows through everything: at the farmers’ market where we exchange it for food that nourishes us, in schools where it supports teachers shaping the next generation.
Looking ahead, I want to continue exploring the energy of money — how we can unravel its complexities, align it with purpose, and wield it with greater intentionality. The goal isn’t just to make more money, but to make money more meaningful.
Beyond meditations on money, I’m also thinking deeply about how to gather with others who are drawn to living a life aligned with the poetry of impact.
Last year, I hosted an online cohort group, bringing people together to explore this philosophy. It was a powerful experience, but this year I want to take it further. I’m envisioning a nature-based convening, likely in Lake Tahoe, where participants can immerse themselves in the kind of connection and reflection that only the natural world can inspire. It’s about creating a space where we can dwell in these ideas together, not just through conversation but through presence — sharing meals, hiking, and experiencing the poetry of life firsthand.
I’m also excited to document another project close to my heart: a two-year renovation of my family’s home, built on the principles of poetry of impact.
The process was more than just redesigning a space; it was about reimagining how a home can embody values like sustainability, connection, and beauty.
From the materials we chose to the way the space invites connection, the renovation was a reflection of what it means to align the physical and emotional dimensions of our lives. I look forward to sharing the story behind this transformation, not just as a showcase of what’s possible, but as a blueprint for how others might bring similar intentions into their own spaces.
~ Gino