What most people
know about
Nathan Hawken

The official bio

Nathan Hawken works with experienced coaches and consultants who have the skills, the experience, and enough clients to know it can work, but can't seem to close the gap between where they are and where they know they should be by now.

He is the creator of The HAWKEN Method, a six-stage framework built from ten years of working with coaches and consultants at the point where the business problem stops being a business problem and starts being a personal one.

His clients have doubled their rates, signed clients they previously would have talked themselves out of pursuing, broken through years of avoidance in a single session, and, more than once, described the work as the thing that finally made everything else make sense.

He takes a maximum of five new clients per quarter. Every session is run by him. No assistants. No programme running in the background. When you work with Nathan, you get Nathan, fully focused, every time.

Originally from Australia, he now lives in Dublin with his wife and two young kids. He has been building The HAWKEN Method alongside a full-time career and a full life. That context is not incidental. It's the whole point.

I wasn't a confident kid. I was bullied. I never went to university. For a long time I carried this quiet belief that I wasn't as capable as the people around me, that I'd missed something, that I was somehow less than, and that it was only a matter of time before someone figured that out.

I spent a lot of my life performing. Trying to look like I had it together on the outside while feeling deeply insecure underneath. I got good at it. So good that most people had no idea.

In my twenties I hit a wall. I was working as a sales rep for a coffee roaster in Canberra. My wife was going through her own difficult time. I had no idea how to manage my own emotional state, let alone support someone else. I started pulling into quiet streets on the way to client visits. Just sitting in the car. In tears. Not able to face walking through the door.

That kept happening. And then one day I came home from work, walked straight past my wife without saying a word, went into the bedroom, got into bed, and completely fell apart.

Lying there, I asked myself the question I'd been avoiding for years: Is this all there is?

Something inside me. I'd call it my unconscious mind now, answered back. No. There's more.

That was the moment everything started to change. Not quickly. Not cleanly. But it started.

I'm an introvert. That's not something I lead with, but it's true. Coaching found me because I was desperate to understand people, starting with myself. The work gave me a language for things I'd been feeling my whole life but couldn't name.

I became a dad and discovered a whole new level of not feeling like enough. The worry that I'm not present enough, not patient enough, not doing it right. That I'm giving the best of myself to everything else and my kids are getting what's left. I still sit with that. I don't think it ever fully goes away.

I've questioned everything about this business. Multiple times. There have been stretches where I got almost no conversations, where I wondered if any of it was possible, where I genuinely didn't know if I was cut out for it. I've been sick for days and kept going because the family doesn't stop. I've downloaded productivity apps to block my own distractions and then bypassed them five minutes later. I know exactly what it's like to know better and not do it anyway.

I moved my family to Dublin, far from home, far from the support network in Australia. Building something meaningful while being that far from your people, with two young kids and a full life, is harder than it looks from the outside.

None of that is performance. It's just the truth. And it's exactly why the work I do isn't theoretical. I built the method because I needed it. I kept refining it because the gap kept showing up, in my clients and in myself.