about

a different kind of progress.

most of us get really good at moving. we're taught to ask what's next long before we're taught to ask what we actually want.

intermission exists to interrupt the way we're living long enough to reorient toward a life that feels like ours again.

an empty theatre, green room with a gold curtain

what we mean by intermission

not quitting.
reorienting.


not starting over.
not abandoning ambition.
not finding another version of yourself to become.

reorientation is learning how to hear yourself again, and letting what you hear have a say in the life you're living.

toward what?

you start by paying attention.

how do you reorient toward yourself when you've spent so long looking everywhere else?

the answers are coordinates.

not instructions. not a perfect map. just information about who we are, what matters to us, and which direction might be worth moving.

what gives me energy? what drains it?

who do i feel most like myself around?

what have i outgrown?

what do i actually want when no one else is watching?

what does joy look like when no one else gets to see it?

what we're exploring

the territory is ordinary, and enormous.

intermission explores what it means to build a life that feels as good to live as it looks from the outside, through the questions, choices, relationships, transitions, and ordinary moments that shape one.

a laptop, coffee and scone at a cafe counter

work

purpose, balance, and what's enough.

friends toasting cocktails at a table

relationships

connection, belonging, and choosing well.

a woman working on a laptop in warm light

ambition

going after what matters without losing yourself.

window light and palm shadow on a wall

identity

who you are beneath what you do.

a woman standing confidently in orange light

enoughness

redefining what success looks like.

a woman laughing in golden-hour light

joy

finding more of it in the everyday.

an open road winding through forest at dawn

change

transitions, endings, and new beginnings.

two friends laughing over pizza and wine

belonging

people, places, and a deeper sense of home.

what makes an ordinary tuesday afternoon feel as worth living as the milestones we're always waiting for?

explore intermission

there are different ways in.

some questions we write through. some are better asked out loud. and some you have to get close enough to the problem to work through together.

a handwritten journal by candlelight and a vintage radio

read

the journal

essays, observations, personal stories, and questions worth sitting with.

read →
a podcast microphone in warm studio light

listen

during intermission

conversations with people inside periods of change, uncertainty, and reorientation, before experience has been packaged into a tidy lesson.

listen →
a quiet beach with a lighthouse in the distance

engage

work through your own

a more intentional space for people and businesses navigating questions of direction, identity, growth, and what comes next.

engage →

what we believe

we owe it to ourselves to be curious about our own lives.

we don't think anyone else can give you the coordinates. and we don't believe there's a single version of a good life waiting to be discovered.

but we do believe something changes when we give ourselves enough presence to ask better questions, pay attention to our answers, and move intentionally in their direction.

a life that reflects who you are, rather than a life you keep reshaping yourself to fit.

ashley laughing outside a carriage house

behind intermission

hi, i'm ashley.

i'm a strategist, operator, writer, and the person behind intermission.

my career has taken me through advertising, m&a, executive leadership, and consulting. i've worked inside businesses, advised them, operated one, and eventually started one of my own. i wanted experience, and by 29, boy, had i gotten it. i also got really good at moving: achieve, adapt, please, perform.

eventually, that way of living stopped working. my own intermission forced me to confront how much of my life i'd oriented around achievement, expectation, and what came next, and how rarely i stopped to ask what i actually wanted.

intermission grew from the questions that followed.

i don't have the answers. i'm in the exploration too, just willing to keep asking the questions, and to share what i find along the way.

– ashley

come explore
what's next

still figuring it out.
glad you're here.

explore intermission →