This isn’t a pitch It’s a path

Let’s start with the official bio.

You know—the one they put on book covers, speaker reels, and press releases.

The one with the credentials, the accomplishments, the street cred.

Here it is:

Chris McCann is a SaaS growth strategist, executive mentor, and founder of Conscious Executive™, a leadership platform designed for high-performing individuals who are successful on the outside but are asking themselves…”is this it?”

For over two decades, Chris has built and scaled sales teams across North America and Latin America for top SaaS companies like Contentstack and commercetools, consistently driving exponential growth while prioritizing culture, coherence, and connection. His signature approach blends business performance with deep personal transformation, informed by training in psychedelic therapy, energy healing, and the Akashic Records.

He has advised founders, Fortune 1000 executives, sales leaders, and visionaries across industries—not just on how to perform better, but on how to become better versions of themselves. His programs—ranging from executive mentorship and team resonance training to men’s circles and multi-day retreats—are designed to challenge high performing leaders to return to who they truly are.

Chris is also the creator of The Fireplace Men’s Community, host of the Soul Dive podcast, and an active member of global humanitarian and spiritual networks including The Red Earth Movement, Indigenous Nations Alliance, and the One Humanity Institute.

He lives in Santa Monica with his wife Meredith. He’s a father to three boys, a grandfather to three girls, and the kind of guy who’d rather talk around a fire than behind a podium.

Now for the real story.

The one you won’t find on LinkedIn.

The one that explains how I got here—not just what I’ve done.

I used to think if I just worked hard enough, I could outrun the emptiness.

Build the team. Hit the number. Get the title. Then, maybe, I’d finally feel at home in my skin.

But no matter how far I climbed, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was performing someone else’s version of success.

I was tired. Addicted. Disconnected. From myself. From others. From any real sense of purpose.

I was about to turn 40. It wasn’t cute anymore - I had decisions to make before it was too late.

I grew up in Jackson, Michigan. My family ran a brick oven, coal-fired Polish bakery. We didn’t talk about spirituality. We showed up. We worked hard. We did what needed to be done.

I didn’t graduate college. Barely started, actually.

Not because I couldn’t. Because I knew early on it wasn’t for me.

I chose life over lectures. Work over theory.

Real-world consequences. Real-time learning. Real big mistakes.

While my friends were grinding through coursework, I was managing restaurants, raising two kids, and figuring out how to (or if i could) lead under pressure.

By 23, I was overseeing 100 people and $3M in revenue.

By 25, I was burning out—drinking too much, working too much, and pretending everything was fine, watching my marriage fall apart.

I looked around me, mid-20’s, kids, mortgage, all the things and was like…

“Is this it? What the hell do I do for the next 50 years???”

Eventually, I couldn’t fake it anymore.

I got honest. Learned how to ask for help. Quit smoking. Started meditating. Married the love of my life. And for the first time in decades, I stopped trying to look for dopamine hits externally and began to search inside my self.

That’s when everything shifted.

I began studying the Akashic Records. Trained in psychedelic-assisted therapy. Sat with spiritual teachers. Built new practices. Cleared old patterns. Got my body back. Reclaimed my mind. Reconnected to my heart.

And I realized something I wish someone had told me years ago:

If your success comes at the cost of who you really are, it’s not success.

It’s survival in a nice suit.

Eventually, that cracks.

Now I work with people who are exactly where I was:

Accomplished. Respected. Exhausted. Quietly wondering what the hell comes next.

I don’t give them answers. We learn to ask better questions. The kind that create space.

Space to slow down. To see what’s real. To stop performing and start leading from presence—not pressure.

Sometimes we talk business. Sometimes we talk pain. Sometimes we sit in silence and let the truth surface.

It’s not always pretty. But it’s always honest.

And that’s what changes people.

I don’t promise comfort.

I promise clarity.

So if you’ve checked all the boxes but still feel like something’s missing, you’re not broken. You’re being called.

To lead differently.

To live fully.

To remember who you are—and act like it.

When you’re ready, I’ll meet you there.