Welcome. I believe everything in life is connected, and I have spent my years searching for the quiet connections this mainstream system keeps hidden. I am an independent researcher and a life companion from Damak, Nepal.
I work where these threads meet. When one falls out of balance, the others feel it. So I do not try to fix a life, a body, a home, or a business in pieces. We read the whole, and bring it back into harmony.
The world we live in is loud and built for profit, not for the growth of people. I call it the failing social system, and most of us are too busy surviving it to notice where it is breaking us.
My life has been one long research project into what it means to be human. I left the path I was handed, found my own books and teachers, travelled, lived among many communities, and worked across yoga, Ayurveda, permaculture, Vastu, astrology, business, and building with my hands. I returned with what actually works.
My goal is simple. To bring everything I have lived and found into one work, helping humans, nature, and technology grow together in peace and balance. Whatever problem you carry, we find the root, design the change, and stay with it until it is fixed in your life.
One person at the centre, three ways to work together. Step into the one that fits you.
A companion for your life, body, home, family, and work. In person, slow, and honest.
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Brand, digital, and life, designed as one connected whole. Built with Merina, from Damak.
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A nonprofit research and regenerative living movement. Humans, Nature, Technology, in balance.
Enter →From a village in the hills of Bhojpur to the work of today. Tap any photo to open it, or filter by a thread.
Roots in the hills, and the choice to leave the path I was handed.
I was born in the hills of Bhojpur, into a Pradhan Newar and Parajuli Brahmin family. My first world was mud walls, animals, and a village that raised everyone together.
In time we came down to Damak, a bigger town with roads, electricity, and a faster kind of life. A new world for a hill child.
From a young age I lived in a hostel. Twelve years in a small, isolated world that taught me to watch, to wait, and to stand on my own.
For three years I trained hard to join the British Gurkhas. The discipline stayed with me, even after the path changed.
I tried Science, then Management, then Arts, and none of it held me. I left formal school because I could not relate what they taught to what my life was actually asking of me. So I decided to find my own teachers and my own books.
The dark years, a friend lost, and the first steps back toward the light.
Then came the dark years. Addiction took hold, and it took a friend from me. I do not hide this part. It is where the search truly began.
I joined US based call centers and worked nights from Nepal. I sold websites, gathered leads, and rented out construction equipment, all to people across America. I learned to speak, to sell, and to understand the United States and its culture, one call at a time.
I decided to change, and I started to move. Vipassana gave me ten days of silence, and the first clear look inward.
To see my own country, I worked on trucks as a khalashi. I read and wrote along the way and reached places I would never have found otherwise. I slept on highways and inside truck cabins. Noise, pollution, corruption, trade, the women who work the roads, and raw nature. I saw many things here.
Years on the road, in classrooms and on mountains, learning by living.
An idea began to take shape, a project to research and redesign how we live with each other, with nature, and with technology.
I hitchhiked to learn yoga, meditation, and Ayurveda at the source, living simply and carrying little.
I came back to Nepal and shared the vision of the Joon Project aloud for the first time, to a small room of friends.
I joined Maya Universe Academy, a free school, and found that teaching children is mostly about playing, listening, and being present.
I travelled to Cambodia to learn from a permaculture farm and eco architecture projects, building with earth and growing food by hand.
At the Sagarmatha branch I became Principal, holding the school, the parents, and the children together as one community.
I walked to Makalu, deep into the high country, where the mountains put a person in their right place.
Mardi Himal, where I sat with a book below the fishtail peak and let the silence do its work.
To Tsho Rolpa, one of the great glacial lakes, walking beside ice and the slow patience of the Himalaya.
I ran a saw mill and a transport and lumber business, learning trade, negotiation, and the weight of real work.
To Kanchenjunga, the third highest peak on Earth, and the long quiet trails that lead to it.
I went paragliding, just to feel the sky, and to remember that the body is meant to be alive.
The Joon Project takes root, and a whole community grows around it.
At last, from 2020, we began building the Joon Project for real, on our own land, with our own hands.
We organised free music sessions, open to anyone, where sound brought strangers together.
We opened the place to international travellers and volunteers, and built what we needed, starting with water.
We built our toilets, because dignity and sanitation come before everything else.
We raised temporary tents so volunteers had a place to rest and belong.
We turned soil into food, beginning the regenerative farming that feeds the whole idea.
Planting rice together in the mud, the oldest and most grounding work there is.
We connected with a local orphanage, and slowly it became part of the family of the work.
We helped reorganise the orphanage, turning an institution into a warmer, more human home.
We taught the children yoga, to feel their breath and their bodies.
We sat with them through their studies, so school felt less like a wall and more like a door.
We brought music in, because a child who can make music carries something no one can take.
We took them into permaculture and gardening, so they learned to grow what they eat.
We took them out on field trips, into the world beyond the walls.
Clay and wood workshops, so their hands learned to make, shape, and mend.
We took them on camps, into nature, into teamwork, into a bigger sense of belonging.
With partner organisations we ran eye check ups and other small projects of care.
People began coming to celebrate together with us. The work had become a community.
And in between all of it, life was simply fun. That mattered as much as anything.
We organised the Joon Camping Festival, days and nights of music, fire, food, and gathering.
We collaborated with the Purba Art Fair and Exhibition for two seasons, building it on the Hunate philosophy.
To Meghalaya with friends, the land of green water and living root bridges.
We worked hard and we celebrated hard. Joy is part of the design, not a distraction from it.
We hiked the hills around us, because the land is the best teacher we have.
At the second Joon House we built our own furniture, learning to make what we needed from scratch.
At the third Joon House we opened to the wider community and its children, teaching all we had learned. We were growing.
From one project to a movement, and a studio where the idea earns its keep.
When Merina's father was hurt in a hit and run, we stopped everything. She had stood by me through it all, so I stood by her and her family, for as long as it took.
Then I began reshaping everything we had learned into Hunate, a movement for Humanity, Nature, and Technology in balance.
I started House of Hunate, a small herbal enterprise, putting the regenerative idea to work in the market.
I helped Merina launch her own jewellery brand, Mery El's, a small pinch of style and independence.
See Mery El’s on Instagram →And now, our newest venture and the profit branch of the vision, Mery & Khem Life Studio, where the whole idea earns its keep.
The journey continues.
We probably speak the same language. I listen first, then we begin. The first conversation is the start of everything.