About Sean Hall
Your In Flow Guide
Hi, I’m Sean, and I call myself an “in-flow guide” because for many years, I lived entirely out of flow. If you are struggling with chronic pain, overwhelming stress, anxiety, or depression, I want you to know that I've walked that challenging path. With my firsthand experience of those very struggles, I will guide you confidently into the flow.
I pursued every conventional and holistic solution: medication, therapy, yoga, and acupuncture. The relief was always temporary. That was over a decade ago. Finally I recognized the need for a fundamental shift and hired my Qigong master to get the precise guidance I was missing:
- Courage: The ability to stand my ground in confrontation.
- Resilience: The strength to face my challenges and thrive.
- Lasting Purpose: A clear direction rooted in core values.
I consider myself fortunate to have chosen to invest in guidance when I did, creating my transformation before self-doubt and limiting beliefs could set a permanent course.
Now, I partner with ambitious leaders and professionals like you to co-create profound change and achieve that same sense of flow. My clients often describe me as intuitive, funny, and wholeheartedly committed to their success.
I’ll put it simply: We will elevate your vision, dismantle the excuses that hold you back, and create an actionable strategy to deliver the tangible results you're seeking.
My Story
For most of my life, I thought growth meant pushing harder. If pain, stress, anxiety, or depression showed up, I clenched my jaw and powered through, convinced that true resilience was about bulldozing past discomfort. That mindset carried me through skateboarding spills, hot yoga injuries, and plenty of stubborn moments where I wrestled with my own dark places. However, a profound shift occurred when I chose to integrate the principles my master shared with me: how to grow stronger without strain, move freely without pain, and reconnect with my body’s natural courage and inner flow.
In my twenties, skateboarding was my outlet and my edge. In landing a trick, your legs absorb enormous force, and surviving the inevitable wipeouts requires mastering the art of falling. Done well, falling is less a crash and more a survival dance. But one particularly bad fall left my knee swollen like a grapefruit. No amount of ice, heat, or stretching could fully heal it—just like no amount of pushing could resolve the anxiety that settled deep within me.
That’s when I turned to hot yoga. The heat felt like medicine, and for a while, I believed I’d found my cure for both my physical pain and my underlying stress. My knee improved, my body grew stronger, and I thrived on the discipline. Yet outside the hot room, the same tension always returned, as if my body were whispering that I was missing the deeper lesson—the path to a lasting purpose.
Fifteen years later, I learned it the hard way. While teaching toe pose—a posture I once considered my gold medal of strength and balance—my knee gave out. The pain was sharp, and for weeks I couldn’t walk. Humbled and limping, battling a fresh wave of depression and self-doubt, I traveled to Oregon to see my master, certain he would offer some magical fix.
Instead, he offered me a challenge: “Bring me my tea.”
I looked over. Ten feet away, a cup sat filled to the brim, liquid domed above the rim like a dare.
“You know I can barely walk, right?” I protested.
Unmoved, he said, “I’m in no hurry. Are you?”
So off I went, wobbling like a contestant in the world’s slowest obstacle course. Pain jolted up my leg, tea sloshed, and my ego braced for disaster.
From across the room came his calm reminder: “What’s your hurry?”
Right—slow down. I softened my shoulders, bent my knees, and held the tea at my centerline. As I took mindful steps toward him, all the principles my master had taught me came into focus. To my surprise, by the time I reached him, I wasn’t limping or in pain at all.
He smiled, accepted the cup, and asked with perfect timing: “How’s the knee?”
That was the moment it clicked. My knee had no structural issue; it was a functional issue. My body wasn’t asking me to push harder; it was asking me to listen. Strength, I realized, wasn’t about gritting my teeth. It was about courageous awareness, patience, and meeting myself where I actually was.
Bit by bit, I rebuilt not just my knee, but my way of moving through all challenges in life. Six months later, I stood on the summit of Mt. St. Helens. By listening, adjusting, and step by step, I climbed and descended without collapse, embodying true resilience.
That day I learned strength isn’t about overpowering struggle; it’s about aligning with flow. Now, whether through Qigong, coaching, or daily practice, that’s the strength I carry forward: not force, but balance, ease, and flow.
