Little Me

I've been solely dancing and displaying words with pen and paper, but I miss this space as well. Fingers and keys have a different kind of dance. They carry their own friction and flow, unique from the slow flow of pen on paper.

I have yet to reflect on year 47 of this cycle. This time last year, I was in Morocco. It feels like another lifetime. To excavate the memories, I would need to open my old journals and sift through my photos.

For the last couple of months, I’ve been carrying around a photo of little me. I think I was five years old. Below the Polaroid, someone wrote, "HI EVERYBODY." This sentence is me—it's who I have become, or maybe it’s who I’ve always been. It took a while to return to this authenticity because, for much of my life, I wasn’t able to flow in the way that was natural to me.

I was a happy kid—joyful and loving—but my environment was not welcoming to my nature. It was difficult. Still, it taught me to find joy in an incognito way. I learned how to protect my spirit from a very young age. I touched that place of safety when I was alone, playing in my room under the tents I would build. It was my place to be me.

I did this for a long time and still do, though as I got older, I learned to find calm and peace beyond my own space. To find peace under all roofs.

It has taken many years. The last few years of being nomadic have helped me reach this place. I consciously lived under shared roofs to learn how to flow with the energy of others. The one thing I am yet to master is how to flow—how to be this little guy with a smile—despite the chaos in romantic relationships. I’m still yet to find someone I can intertwine with and not lose myself.

I keep this photo with me because I want to reflect on how we started this journey. I want to ask him: How did we do? How are you feeling now? You carried us through some really difficult times.

Little me is getting emotional. I feel goosebumps throughout my body. I, too, am getting emotional as I write this. Or maybe it’s he who is getting emotional.

Tears want to flow, but I’m in a café, so I hold them back. I’ll save them for later. I love you. Thank you.

We made it through. What bigger accomplishment is there than to arrive at this destination of openness? To move through this world with an open heart and grand compassion. Compassion for self, compassion for others, and compassion for this life.

This maskless place. This happiness that rises deep within, without external dependency.

What a beautiful place to be.

I’m not going to look back and analyze this past year. Instead, I’ll observe the present, because the present tells me all I need to know about my past and the seeds I’m going to plant for my future self.

Unfulfilled Yearning

Three Americanos yesterday. I was buzzing and didn’t sleep till 1:30 a.m. I watched a few episodes of This Is Us, and it ignited some ancient emotions inside me.

A sadness, a longing for the family I haven’t yet had in this life.

I love the way the show moves between past and present. It inspires me to weave my own memories, to explore the threads of my own story.

I love that the desire to have a family has returned. I don’t think it ever really left. I just tucked it away, deep into unlocked drawers within me.

It’s something we all do with unfulfilled yearning. It’s too disruptive in day-to-day life to carry these longings openly, letting them sit on top of our hearts and minds. Some we save for another day, others we save for another life. And some yearnings rise back up from the depths of our soul to remind us that they need to be lived now, in this fleeting blip of a moment.

So I open myself to the desires that won’t wait for another day, for another life, and I pray for another chance. I pray for courage. Life has gifted me many chances, but I spent so much of this life moving through the world with a ball of confusion around my heart, clouding my mind and smothering my truth.

A fear birthed out of chaos. I chose what I feared less, which created an illusion of safety. An illusion that had no legs to carry me toward what I most yearned for, a yearning that couldn’t be saved for another day.

This longing reminds me that it will come with its own beautiful chaos—a love that I’m now ready for, as ready as one can be for something so grand.

It’s not that I’ve hardened my heart; rather, I’ve softened it. I’ve learned to embrace, endure, and appreciate the cracks that formed rivers from broken experiences.

Finca Mia Retreat Centre - Rivas, Costa Rica

The Elevator

I recently realized that for the last 18 years, I’ve been putting myself back together since you broke me, since all that I was programmed to believe came crashing down—like a home built without a foundation.

I want to blame my parents, but is that fair when they were simply reflecting how others were toward them? It’s probably more fair to blame the lineage, at least the last three generations, for the love that never had a chance to fully blossom because of the defective seeds planted and nurtured within me.

Maybe that day I was supposed to stop you. But how could I ruin your life? I was a mess. I wasn’t ready, nor did I feel deserving of you. Too many programs running inside me. Too many wires crossed, needing to be untangled and rewired.

I recently met 'her' again. It was a knowing, the same knowing I had when I walked into that club, and we locked eyes for the first time. I just knew.

It’s been hard. Not the hard times—they’ve passed—but it’s the good times that are hard. It’s on the elevator going up that I wish you were here. Someone to celebrate with. Someone to witness all my growth. I’m about to step into yet another elevator, and it looks like I’ll be walking in it alone once again. I have my friends, family, coach, and a few of them will fit, but at some point, they too will step off.

A Moment of Reflection

At the Hart House for an R&B concert.

I feel like I need to be here, but I’m looking for some guidance, something more than just this déjà vu feeling.

What is this?

Is there anything I need to do beyond what I’m already doing in this moment?

Simply be as you are.

I am.

Your heart.

How is your heart in this moment?

Are you happy with your choice to come to this event tonight?

I feel a little emotional when I sense this feeling.

You know the one I’m talking about?

Like I’ve been here before, or that I’m exactly where I need to be?

Is that it? Is that the story for this evening?

Listen to music and go home?

Seems like a small ending to such a big feeling, doesn’t it?

“Beauty of artists is to seek for truth. Each note is a search for truth.”

I can relate.

For me, each word is my way of searching for the truth.

Searching for the truth from within.

It’s 10:45 now. The concert’s over.

I saw the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in a while.

I liked her energy; she naturally embodied the feminine.

Her smile shines as brightly as the ring on her finger.

The kind that lights up every room she enters.

A 5-Month Update: Returning to Toronto, Navigating Love, and Embracing Change

The different humans I’ve crossed paths with have helped shift the lens through which I see the world. Born and raised in Toronto, knowing what it was and what it is now, I sometimes feel like a grumpy old guy. Words I wanted to say when I was young still want to slide off my tongue, but I hold back. I know things aren’t the same; like everything big and small, they change. Some aspects dissolve completely, and from that comes a process of rebirth. I see it. There’s a rebirth happening, and births are not meant to be painless because within the pain lie many lessons, preparing us for what’s on the other side.

This photo was taken six months ago. I’ll tell you in a moment why I saved it, but first, it’s been five months since I returned to Toronto. Four months ago, I signed my first one-year lease in three years. The mental transition has been tough, but I’ve finally found my flow. I have my friends and family, but I was missing community. Understandably, while I was living the nomadic life, everyone else’s life moved on.

I’m enjoying discovering new cafés, working on projects, working out, and practicing yoga. I’m spending time with my brother, nephew, niece, and friends and meeting new people. After two years, I’ve even started to date. At this age, I never thought I’d be here, but dating has been my biggest challenge to navigate.

Compared to dating and finding love, everything else in my life feels effortless, like a walk in the park.

I was going to share how difficult it’s been to find love, but that’s not true. What’s been difficult is receiving love. I’ve had opportunities to be in committed relationships, but my internal wiring was all crisscrossed. It’s taken me until now to feel psychologically and emotionally balanced and grounded.

I’ve been carrying around an unhealthy yearning to fill a void inside me. Yet, when opportunities for relationships came, I struggled to sustain them. Sometimes I chose wrong, too. Without diving too deep into that rabbit hole, I’ve come a long way in this daring process. To date is to be daring in this climate. It might sound odd, but I didn’t know how to date. I’m still learning, especially how to date in a healthy way—with openness, honesty, and emotional maturity.

I’m on one dating app, but I’ve also been going out and meeting women, rebuilding the courage and confidence to start conversations with strangers. This journey has been an education in openness and connection, and I’m grateful for every step.

I took this photo six months ago when I was in India. I went to the gym in my sister’s building to move the heaviness and clear up some of the darkness that was engulfing me. A combination of time to spare, algorithms, and changing a setting on Instagram led me to see the images coming out of Palestine. I began reading and seeing things that no human should ever have to witness, let alone experience. It teleported me into a darkness I hadn’t visited in ten years.

This darkness continued when I returned to Toronto. I struggled to reintegrate into this energy and accept the need to land here longer than I have in the last three years. Signing my first lease in three years triggered an anxiety attack. The weekdays were manageable, but the weekends—especially the long weekends—were filled with profound loneliness and sadness that pulled me back into the darkness. My piece Seductive Shadows came from this place.

It was dark, yes. Old narratives came rushing to the surface, and I must admit, it really fucking surprised me. But there was a big difference this time: I had the ability to watch, observe, and allow this internal drama to play out. I have tools to remain grounded and ride the waves of the darkest thoughts and emotions. The first four months felt like being back in the womb, and in the fifth month, I rebirthed with new energy, a fresh mind, an expansive heart, and a newfound excitement and optimism for life. I even rediscovered a love for Toronto (I know, hard to believe, right?!).

I know the darkness has its gifts, and I’ll embrace the waves when they return. But for now, oof, am I glad to be back on the surface, soaking in the sunshine.

What is the Difference between Mind and Brain?

I was curious for a long time about the difference between the mind and the brain. I asked around, but nobody had an answer. So I continued on with life, occasionally pondering the question. Without answers, it became more of a fleeting thought.

Over the last few years, though, I’ve been diving deeper into myself. My experiences have taught me to differentiate between the mind and the brain. The mind is like a river. It needs to flow. If you block it by building a dam, it overflows and drowns the nature surrounding it.

In our case, the brain is that nature, and it’s being drowned by the power and overflow of the mind.

We’ve built a dam around our necks, trapping the mind in our heads. I wonder if this was necessary for the brain's evolution. If the mind hadn't been parked in the head, would the human brain have evolved to where it is today? Would technology and science have reached these heights, and at such speed, without the mind's focused development of the brain?

I don’t have answers to these questions—just perspectives from my experiences. But I see another part of human evolution unfolding right now, and I’m not sure enough people are noticing. We’ve been driving our brains in fifth gear for so long that we’re wearing out the engine. Just look at the rise in mental illnesses. Is it a coincidence that yoga, meditation, and group activities like CrossFit and marathons are gaining popularity? These activities help us reconnect our minds and bodies.

To me, this is our body saying: it’s time to break the dam. The next stage of human evolution is to bring the rest of the body on board—the heart, the gut, everything from the neck down.

How? By sharpening the mind through meditation.

Display in the basement of Rooms Cafe on Ossington Street in Toronto

Many people say, “Meditation isn’t for me—I can’t stop thinking.” But meditation is exactly for those who can’t stop thinking (myself included).

Yoga, CrossFit, and running are amazing for connecting with the body, but they aren’t enough. Meditation sharpens the mind. Once learned and embraced, it takes us to the next level—full mind-body connection.

Parking the mind in the head was necessary for a time, but the systems we’ve built (corporate workplaces, for example) are outdated. We’ve lacked the courage and awareness to collectively change the systems we still play in. The importance of bringing the entire body on board is that, at a mass scale, we can start building systems from the heart and soul, not just the head.

Even religion is being run from the head—not the heart, not the soul. For most of us today, religion serves little purpose because it was designed as a system to access the soul, the spirit, our true being. But we’ve boxed it in the brain, trying to make it logical. Prayers aren’t logical. They’re mysterious and magical.

There’s no access to the soul, to the source, unless our minds and bodies are synced.

My grandmother was my guru. I see clearly now what she was doing. She was a simple woman—no hijab, no fluff, none of the nonsense that surrounds religion today—just simple prayer, five times a day. She used a tasbeeh (prayer beads), which, by definition, involves repetitive utterance of short sentences (thank you, Google). The tasbeeh was essentially a counter. My grandmother repeated mantras.

I only developed this awareness after training in transcendental meditation last year and experiencing the power of mantras. Through meditation and prayer, she opened the doors to the soul and dropped her prayers into the fountain of the Universe.

If we want to reach the level of the spirit—and that’s where we’re headed, whether we like it or not—we need to hit the tipping point of collective awareness. It’s happening, and the seeds are being heavily planted. Those already there are making it rain.

The brain (actually, it’s our ego) tells us meditation isn’t for us. The ego’s sole purpose is to keep the self suppressed. But sooner or later, it will be time for your ego to let your true self play, to break the dam and let the river of energy flow freely.

Parking the mind in our head leaves the rest of the body like a neglected garden, overgrown with weeds. I see meditation as the body’s Weedwacker. It sharpens the mind, resets the being, and clears away the weeds that no longer serve you.

Her Colours

She expresses herself in so many ways, but it’s her non-verbal communication that truly captures me. Her eyes, her smile, and her energy embrace me in such a way that I can’t help but go in for a big hug. She supports me with just a single glance. She’s had my back since day one.

As I write down why I came here—why I spent all this money, travelled thousands of miles to this beautiful land, to stand in a room full of strangers, surrounded by glass walls with views of beauty, trees, sunset, and the sound of birds—I realize there was only one reason. When I wrote it on the large blank white page on the wall, I scribbled as small and faintly as I could, so no one would see, not even me. It wasn’t a conscious choice; I didn’t notice what I’d done until I turned around to look at the other thirty-five people. From halfway across the room, I could read what they wrote, but my own writing? Barely legible.

Costa Rica - Pura Vida Retreat Centre - Goodlife Project Immersion Program 2014

It was a tiny, faint green scribble. I didn’t want any of these strangers to know why I was there. How profound it was to see what my deep internal self had revealed. I’d always felt it, but seeing it written down in this way was like a slap in the face—like someone throwing a bucket of cold water over me. A wake-up call.

I let out a nervous laugh and smiled, the way I always do when I feel uncomfortable. I looked to my left, and there she was, standing beside me, looking up with those big blue eyes, her beautiful head of red curls glowing with perfection, and a beaming smile that said, "I support you. I’ve got you."

That was the moment my journey into the next phase of my life began—a journey where I would finally express my own colours fully and start supporting others the way she supported me.