Renee: Looking back, it’s funny how some of the biggest turning points in our lives come from decisions that, at the time, feel small or totally out of character.
Moving to Florida was one of those moments for me.
I’m not a risk-taker by nature. I like plans. I like stability. I like knowing where I’m headed and what the backup plan is. So, deciding to uproot my life and move to a new state, even though it was technically planned, felt like a stretch for who I was at the time.
The idea had been to go with a girlfriend. We had it all figured out. I’d given notice at work, packed up my life, and broken my lease. But then… she bailed, just like that.
It rattled me. I almost called the whole thing off. But something deeper nudged me: You’ve already made the leap. Trust it.
When my friend backed out, Mark—yes, the guy from the amusement park—offered me the extra room in his two-bedroom apartment in Florida. Not only that, he offered to drive down with me.
So just like that, from boss… to friends… to roommates.
He came to Ohio and spent Christmas with my family. We rang in the new millennium together in New York City, Y2K and all. My parents were not thrilled. Not only was I moving away from home, but they were convinced the world was going to end... and that it would all start in NYC.
Spoiler alert: The world didn’t end. But for me, a whole new one was just beginning.
Mark: After that unforgettable summer at Kings Island where I met Renee and unknowingly crossed paths with my future life partner, I returned to Florida to continue running Unique Ventures, LLC. Honestly, I didn’t think we’d ever work together again, let alone build a life side by side. We lived in different states. We had different paths. At least, that’s what we thought.
But life has a funny way of circling back when something’s meant to be.
That summer, Renee and I had shared a quiet, sweet connection—more than just coworkers, more than just friends, but not quite ready to name it. After the park closed for the season, I returned to Florida, and she went back to her job in Ohio. We stayed in touch—casual check-ins that turned into long conversations. That spark hadn’t gone out. It had simply gone underground, waiting for the right time.
That time came sooner than expected.
Renee had planned to move to Florida with a friend, chasing sunshine and a new start. But when her friend bailed last minute, I offered her the extra bedroom in my two-bedroom apartment. No strings. Just friendship, support, and maybe a little unspoken hope. I even offered to drive up to Ohio and help her make the move.
So there we were—former coworkers, secret summer soulmates, now roommates—driving from Lebanon, Ohio to New York City to visit my family and ring in the new millennium together. Yep, Y2K and all.
Her parents were convinced the world was going to end. Mine were convinced I was bringing home my future wife. Neither of us knew exactly what we were walking into.
But what we did know? This was the beginning of something new. Something aligned. Something that felt like destiny taking its first bold step.
One year later, I took another bold step—this time, in love.
On the eve of Renee’s 21st birthday, I took her to Disney’s Pleasure Island, where they celebrated every night like it was New Year’s Eve. As the countdown began and the fireworks lit up the sky at midnight, I got down on one knee and said:
“I would like you to spend every minute of your 21st birthday as my fiancée. Will you marry me?”
She said yes.
That night wasn’t just romantic—it was symbolic.
The first of many sacred yeses.
A moment that showed me how love, like purpose, is always worth the leap.
That move marked the beginning of our shared life.
But it was what happened next—after we unpacked the boxes and settled into “normal”—that tested us most.
Because after selling my business in 2000, I took the practical route. I got a corporate sales job with Time Warner Cable and I was good at it. Six figures. Full benefits. Bonuses. Exotic incentive trips. I was the top guy on my team and had every sign of “success.”
Except for the one that mattered most: fulfillment.
I still hadn’t written the book. The one I dreamed of writing back in that metaphysical bookstore in Orlando when I was 22. The one about The Human Experience. That book was the whole reason I started a business in the first place. And now, here I was—living a comfortable life, but drifting further away from my purpose.
Then came the wake-up call…
Renee: After years of trying, we finally became pregnant—with twins. Thanks to IVF, Eden and Xen were our miracle babies, and honestly, Mark’s job made that possible. It paid for the treatments, it gave us a sense of security, and it let us dream of a life with children.
But the night feeds and the diaper changes weren’t the only things happening in our house after dark.
Mark: While Renee and the babies slept, I was up late working on the book. Some nights, the words came easily. Other times, it felt like pulling meaning from thin air. But I kept going.
It wasn’t until after the twins turned one that I finally finished it.
Renee stepped in again, this time as my publisher. She helped me format it, upload it, and self-publish on Amazon’s CreateSpace platform. She also planned our very first event, a book launch party.
It was a stormy night in downtown Orlando—rain pouring, wind howling. But over 70 people showed up. Friends, neighbors, and coworkers. That night felt like the beginning of something entirely new.
Renee: It was nothing like the big, beautiful Soulful Leadership Retreat we host now. It was a rented space in a restaurant. I did all the event planning. We sent handwritten invites. It was scrappy but sacred.
After the event, I looked at Mark and asked, “You’ve been writing this book for over 18 years. Now that it’s published… what do you want to do?”
He didn’t have an answer.
So I offered one: “What about life coaching?”
Mark: It caught me off guard. I didn’t know anyone who had a life coach, let alone someone who made a living doing it.
A quick Google search told us the average Life Coach in the US was making less than $20,000 a year in 2011.
"Well, I guess that's not going to work. Any other ideas?," I asked.
Renee did what she always does—held the vision when I couldn’t see it yet.
She said, “That’s what average life coaches make. You’re not an average sales rep. Why would you be an average coach?”
So, I started doing more research. I found coaches making six, seven, and even eight figures, helping others live their truth. Some even promised they could help anyone get the same results by doing exactly what they did. I didn’t buy into the hype but was intrigued enough to take a short certification course.
When I told the coach’s sales rep that I wanted to be a spiritual coach, he literally laughed and said, “You’ll never make money doing that. He said I could pick any nich I wanted, "as long as it was one of these three, "Health, Wealth, or Love"—and I could sneak in spirituality like medicine in dog food.”
That only made me want to do it more.
Renee: It was still another year before Mark left his corporate job. We didn’t jump, we built the bridge first. We tested. We learned. We took baby steps. But we never stopped moving toward purpose.
Making the leap doesn’t always look like quitting overnight. Sometimes, it looks like late-night writing sessions. It looks like uncomfortable conversations. It looks like someone you love believing in you until you can believe in yourself.
Together: The leap isn’t just one decision, it’s a series of them. And it’s not really a leap when you realize you're simply stepping into who you were always meant to be.
For us, leaving behind the illusion of corporate “security” was the beginning of something far more real: A life of soulful service, leadership, and alignment.
That book launched in the middle of a Florida thunderstorm? It was the first of many events we’d host together. It was the moment we realized this was what we were meant to do.
And we’ve been doing it ever since.
Taken at the book launch in 2011. Mark, Renee, Eden, Xen and Renee's sister Amy.