America at a Crossroads

“I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed.”

– Dr. Martin Luther King Junior

This week marks 24 years since 9/11.

I had stood in front of the Twin Towers just weeks before they were reduced to rubble by terrorists in one of the most devastating moments in modern history. Shortly thereafter, I returned to my homeland for work and watched that terrible event unfold on television in shock and disbelief.

This infamous anniversary, and the current political discourse, has made me reflect on what I’ve witnessed in America since then.

As a Canadian, I’ve watched the political landscape of my neighbors to the south with great interest throughout my life. Partly because of the three years I spent working in New York City, and partly because the U.S. has always been the “big brother” to the south. But mostly because Canada, like so many nations, has been deeply influenced by American media, culture, and politics for as long as our countries have coexisted.

Both nations were built on the foundation of Indigenous cultures long before Europeans ever arrived. The continent later shaped by European powers — Spain, England, France — even the Vikings long before that. Yet each country developed its own fabric of progress through wars, migrations, political debate, belief systems, and the constraints of geography and climate.

A Slow Erosion

Over the years, I’ve watched with concern the slow, insidious deterioration of what America once stood for. These days, regardless of whether you lean left or right, the uncomfortable truth is that those in leadership on both sides have been corrupted so deeply that they no longer truly represent their people.

Money and power dominate both parties. Overtly or covertly, the intent is self-preservation and advancement, not service to the nation. The system is rigged whichever way you turn, and it will take an extraordinary movement of leaders — to get the ship sailing in the right direction again.

The Founding Vision

Since its inception, the United States has stood — at least in principle — for opportunity and democracy: equal representation of citizens under the law. That was the stated intent of those who penned the Constitution.

Flawed as they were — men who denied equality to women and permitted slavery — they nonetheless sought to create something radically new. They imagined a structure where no single ruler held ultimate authority, where power was balanced, and where citizens had a say.

The Constitution laid out three branches of government:

• Executive: Led by the President and Cabinet, responsible for steering the nation’s direction.
• Legislative: A bicameral Senate and House designed to check executive power and create laws.
• Judicial: Courts tasked with ensuring justice and upholding the Constitution.

Representation was meant to be chosen by the people. Presidents elected every four years. Members of Congress elected on staggered terms. Amendments expanded rights over time, limiting executive tenure and broadening protections for citizens. 

At its essence, democracy meant that no one person or group could rule unchecked.

For generations, the world believed in that promise: the American Dream, where anyone could build a life of liberty and opportunity.

Where It Stands Today

Those in power still claim to believe in that vision. They argue over who is more democratic, who cares more for “the people,” who is best to lead the nation forward.

But if they truly believed in democracy and equality, here’s what they would be working to fix:

1. Electoral Reform
   A voting system that guarantees every citizen’s ballot counts equally and fairly. This is simply not the case today.
2. Campaign Finance Reform
   A system where regular citizens — not just the wealthy or corporate-backed — can realistically run for office. Ideas, not money, should decide elections.
3. Term Limits and Age Limits
   End the era of career politicians whose longevity is tied to corporate allegiance rather than public service. Watching Senators and Presidents serve into their late 70s and 80s while the retirement age remains 65 is, at best, irresponsible.
4. Tax Reform
   Build a fair tax system that doesn’t disproportionately favor the wealthy but ensures everyone pays their share.
5. Depoliticizing the Supreme Court
   The judiciary should not be a political prize, yet it has become exactly that.
6. Eliminating Corporate Lobbying
   Representatives should legislate with conscience, not under the thumb of lobbyists and donors. This is tied directly to campaign finance reform and would free leaders to focus on governing instead of fundraising.
7. Funding Local Police Forces
   Post–George Floyd, there was loud talk about “defunding the police.” Yet now, the National Guard and military are increasingly used to quell crime and unrest — a role meant for properly supported policing at the local level.
8. Restoring Trust in Federal Institutions
   Misuse of funds, conflicts of interest, and political weaponization have eroded faith in government. Oversight and accountability must be re-established so that citizens can once again trust the institutions essential to civil society.
9. Immigration Reform
   America was built by immigrants. Reinventing how people immigrate, establish themselves, and remain as positive contributors — while also creating legitimate means for removal when necessary — is critical to the future.
10. A Legitimate Third Party
    The two-party system has hardened into endless polarization: us vs. them. A viable third party could break the gridlock and force cooperation in the name of progress.

These reforms are not small tweaks; they are fundamental shifts that would re-establish America as a vibrant democracy and a genuine model for the world.

I don’t claim to know exactly how these changes could be achieved, or what they would ultimately look like. But I do know this: the endless finger-pointing over which administration is better or worse is mostly smoke and mirrors. In the meantime, it’s the regular citizen — the backbone of the nation — who continues to be scammed, year after year.

Back in the early 2000s, I hoped the horrific events of 9/11 might have changed the trajectory of the nation for the better. Sadly, it seems instead to have accelerated its decline.

The question now is not whether America can reclaim its founding vision — but whether it still has the will to try.

Why Selling is Really About Helping

“Great salespeople are relationship builders who provide value and help their customers win,”

– Jeffery Gitomer

A lot of people in the human performance industry dislike the idea of “selling.” It’s often frowned upon when performance professionals market their services, share their knowledge publicly, or build personal brands.

Why? 

Because when most people think of selling, they imagine persuasion, pressure, or convincing someone to buy. But according to my recent podcast guest https://www.buzzsprout.com/1017442/episodes/17756538, Keenan (Jim Keenan, as he’s formally known), one of the most outspoken voices in modern sales, real selling is something entirely different: helping.

In our conversation, he explained that the most effective salespeople don’t “push” products. Instead, they ask better questions, listen deeply, and diagnose problems. As Keenan puts it:

“Selling is about understanding where people are, why that’s not enough, and how they can get more. You’re not selling them — you’re helping them.”

That philosophy resonates well beyond business. As coaches, therapists, or performance practitioners, we’re constantly “selling” ideas. Not in a manipulative sense, but in guiding clients to believe in their ability to grow, adapt, and change. When you convince someone to buy into a training plan, a recovery strategy, or even the idea that they can get better, you’re not forcing — you’re helping them see what’s possible.

Keenan’s own life story adds credibility to this principle. Adopted in the late 1960s into a mixed-race family in Boston, he grew up navigating challenges with curiosity and resilience. He chased dreams of sports and modeling before ultimately building a career in sales and later writing the best-selling book Gap Selling. Along the way, he also raised three daughters as a single parent, with a philosophy rooted not in protection, but in teaching — allowing them to own their outcomes and grow stronger through experience.

What struck me most in our conversation is how consistently Keenan applies this lens: in sales, in leadership, and in parenting. The same mindset that built successful businesses also raised confident, capable children. His legacy, as he sees it, isn’t just measured in numbers or accolades, but in the impact he’s had on people’s lives.

For those of us in performance and health professions, there’s a valuable lesson here. Success doesn’t come from pushing our agenda or showcasing how much we know. It comes from genuinely understanding others’ needs and helping them bridge the gap between where they are and where they want to be.

That often means listening deeply, identifying the fears or roadblocks they may not articulate, and then showing them — with empathy and clarity — how you can support their growth.

We shouldn’t be averse to the word “sales.” Instead, we should reclaim it. At its core, selling is about caring enough to help. And when you adopt that mindset, you not only make a difference in someone’s performance, but in their life.

Making the Most of Your Home Office

“Home is where the heart is . . .“

– Unknown

If you’re like a lot of people post-pandemic, your place of work has shifted. Maybe you used to commute daily to a corporate office, and now you find yourself working from a desk tucked into a spare room. Or perhaps, like me, you’ve been living this reality for years.

Over the past decade, I’ve moved from coaching on the floor of training facilities and working hands-on with teams, to teaching and mentoring people online. Along the way, my office became my home—and that brought both benefits and challenges.

The Upside

The most obvious perk: no commute. Back when I worked in New York with the Rangers, I once calculated that I spent 36 days a year in my car. Imagine what you could do with that time back!

Working from home also means I can connect with my family more easily. My days flow without the abrupt transitions between “work” and “life.” There’s a certain rhythm to it, and often, that feels good.

The Challenge

But that same rhythm can be slippery. Without the structure of an office—the arrivals, schedules, and meetings that anchor a day—it’s up to me to create the framework. Left unchecked, time slips away like water leaking from a cracked cup, lost forever.

That’s why intentionality matters.

My Secret Weapon: The Porch Office

From April through November, I set up shop on my back porch. The view is all forest and green, with fresh air filling my lungs all day long. It keeps me grounded, energized, and aligned with my work.

And the science backs it up: exposure to natural light supports circadian rhythm, improves sleep, boosts energy, and strengthens immune health. Add fresh air and a daily dose of nature, and it’s a recipe for better well-being.

Don’t have a backyard or porch? No problem. In today’s hyper-connected world, you can take your laptop almost anywhere—parks, street cafés, even a bench by the water. Surround yourself with life and movement, and let the environment fuel your productivity.

Movement Matters

Flexibility is another gift of working from home. I make it a point to walk a kilometer every day, and I often add a bike ride or hike for cardiovascular demand. A resistance workout rounds it all out. These breaks not only recharge my body but sharpen my focus when I return to the desk.

Build Your Framework

Pair movement and environment with a clear, intentional daily agenda—including time for family and friends—and suddenly the clutter of “work” feels lighter. Life opens up.

It’s no wonder so many companies are struggling to bring employees back into corporate offices. For many, the balance and freedom of home simply feels better.

Of course, not everyone thrives in this setup. Some people let the hours slip by, their health suffering as they stay chained to the desk. The opportunity isn’t in just being at home—it’s in how you use the home office.

Bring nature, movement, and intentional structure into your day, and your home office will become something more than a workspace. It will become a place where the heart is.

The Rise of Narcissism: From Parody to Power

“The ends justify the means……..”“

– Niccolò Machiavelli

I recently listened to a podcast with a leading researcher on narcissism. Fascinating stuff. Ironically, I was already arranging a guest on the same topic — another noted researcher here in Canada, who also happens to be the mother of one of my daughter’s school friends.

In psychology, narcissism is part of the normal range of human personality. A measure of self-confidence and self-regard can be healthy, even essential. But when those traits become extreme, persistent, and disruptive to relationships or functioning, they turn maladaptive.

I remember talking with special operator Rich Diviney back on Episode 200 of my podcast when he had just published The Attributes. He explained that some narcissistic tendencies actually serve a purpose. They can bring confidence, belief, and commitment to a task, even when someone is operating beyond their direct experience. Sometimes, you have to act more capable than you feel to accomplish what you’ve never done before.

But climb higher up that spectrum, and things shift. Narcissism becomes an excessive preoccupation with self: inflated self-importance, an endless need for admiration, and difficulty valuing the feelings or needs of others.

The Clinical Picture

According to the DSM-5, Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) is a pervasive pattern of grandiosity, need for admiration, and lack of empathy, starting in early adulthood and showing up across many areas of life.

Key features include:

• Grandiose sense of self-importance
• Fantasies of unlimited success, power, beauty, or ideal love
• Belief in being “special” and only associating with the elite
• Excessive need for admiration
• Entitlement
• Exploitative relationships
• Lack of empathy
• Envy of others or belief others envy them
• Arrogant, haughty behaviors

A clinical diagnosis requires at least five of these traits to be consistently present.

Why Talk About This Now?

Because over the last 15 years, narcissism hasn’t just become visible — it’s become celebrated.

Once upon a time, we laughed off these types. The “roosters” who strutted with self-congratulation were tolerated at parties but not admired as models. Maybe they even impressed us with their accomplishments, but they weren’t elevated. They were the exception, not the rule.

Now? It’s become acceptable to be the “donkey.” Trampling others, dismissing reputations, publicly deriding opponents — all excused if you “get results.” Make money, pass legislation, build something impressive, or even just convince people you’ve done those things — and suddenly the behavior is justified.

The ends justify the means. Right?

The sad truth: narcissism often wears a charming mask. These individuals can be magnetic, disarming, even inspiring — until they’ve extracted what they want. After that, you’re invisible. Stand up to them? That’s when the claws come out. Retribution isn’t a possibility, it’s a guarantee.

Machiavelli’s Shadow

Why has this become en vogue? Because it works — at least in the short term. Narcissism is intoxicating. It projects power. It attracts those who feel powerless.

It echoes Machiavelli’s The Prince, which advised rulers to appear virtuous while wielding cunning, pragmatism, and manipulation to hold power. Over centuries, “Machiavellian” became shorthand for a style of leadership where the outcome matters more than the morality of the means.

This isn’t new. What’s new is our willingness to applaud it.

We used to parody this behavior. Cartoons like South Park gave us Eric Cartman as a caricature of narcissism — grandiose, manipulative, exploitative, devoid of empathy. We laughed at the absurdity.

Now the parody has become reality.

What Now?

That’s the question. If narcissism and Machiavellian tactics are rewarded in culture, politics, and business, how do we respond? Do we keep celebrating charm without conscience? Or do we start calling it out for what it is?

Because if the parody becomes the truth, the joke’s on us.

Who Cares Wins

“Only one team is happy at the end of the year.“

– Mike Shanahan

I recently finished watching another season of The Quarterback on Netflix.

Why share this?

Because after two seasons following the journeys of five NFL quarterbacks (Kirk Cousins was featured in both), I was reminded yet again that success doesn’t happen by accident.

And more importantly—it’s not just about winning or stacking achievements. It’s about showing up, putting in the reps, and enjoying the process of growth.

What really struck me was how, inside these high-performance environments we so often admire, character is the real currency. The men who thrive are the ones who hold themselves to a higher standard—not just on the field, but in the way they treat people.

It was there in the way Joe Burrow could laugh and chat with referees, treating them with respect instead of disdain. It was in Kirk Cousins, coming home after learning he would no longer be the starting quarterback for the Falcons—an enormous blow for any veteran—and still finding the grace to play football with his young sons in the rec room. It was in Jared Goff, walking quietly through the woods with his wife, reflecting on what they’ve accomplished together.

You could see it in the way all of them showed genuine gratitude to their offensive linemen—not because it’s expected, but because they truly mean it. 

It was there when Cousins returned to Minnesota, embraced former teammates and coaches, and reconnected with old friends, even after a loss. Or when Marcus Mariota, deep in the uncertainty of a career transition, strolled along a beach with his wife and baby, stopping to talk with a few women passing by. Or watching Patrick Mahomes treat everyone—teammates, coaches, staff—with steady kindness and class.

Different men. Different styles of play. Different paths to the top. Joe Burrow didn’t even have a great arm in high school. Jared Goff was drafted by the Rams, traded to the Lions, and chose to make the best of it, helping build belief in a long-struggling franchise. Some are master passers, others great decision-makers, others phenomenal athletes. All of them have some mix of these skills—or they wouldn’t be starting quarterbacks in the NFL.

But the common thread? Character. How you carry yourself. How you treat your family. How you embrace your friends. You can be a warrior and a leader, fight for every yard, and still be kind. There’s no need to belittle, berate, or boast. Let your work do the talking, and your character do the walking.

I think about Jared Goff, walking up the tunnel after losing a home playoff game, giving a lineman a pat on the back and saying, “Appreciate you, man,” only to hear, “I’m so sorry” in return. Or that same Goff, holding his wife’s hand during their baby’s ultrasound, talking about fatherhood and the new purpose it would bring.

I think about Kirk Cousins recalling something Mike Shanahan told him in his rookie year: “Only one team is happy at the end of the year.” In a sport where only one quarterback gets to hoist the Lombardi Trophy, failure is far more common than ultimate victory. And yet, Cousins, Goff, and the rest keep showing up, learning, exploring what’s possible, and staying grateful for the opportunity to do what they love in front of the fans who love them.

That’s what this show left me with—success is imperfect, unpredictable, and often hard to measure. But if you keep your character intact, treat people with respect, and live in gratitude, you’ve already won.

So I’ll leave you with this: How are you staying true to a character of kindness and consideration?

Preparation, Opportunity, and the “Coincidence” Myth

“Luck is when preparation meets opportunity.“

– Oprah Winfrey

One theme that comes up over and over again when I interview high achievers on the podcast is how often major shifts in their careers and lives seem to happen by coincidence.

They’ll tell me stories about working away in their field, when one day they’re in a coffee shop line, at a networking event, or just running errands—and they strike up a casual conversation. That chat leads to a new connection, and that connection leads to a new opportunity.

The guest on this week’s episode is a perfect example. Her job at a hospital was being cut due to budget issues. She mentioned it to a friend while standing in line at a store. Moments later, that friend shared a lead—and just like that, a new role fell into her lap.

Coincidence?

If it happened only once or twice, maybe. But I hear variations of this story all the time. What’s even more interesting is how rarely my guests describe feeling panic or despair. Instead, they speak about these moments as natural redirections—doors opening exactly when they needed to.

Why does this happen?

I think it comes back to something I first heard Oprah Winfrey say: “Luck is when preparation meets opportunity.”

I love that line because it reminds us that “lucky breaks” aren’t random. They show up because we’ve done the work to be ready when the moment arrives.

That’s why I tell people I mentor that building and maintaining a strong circle of influence is essential. If no one knows who you are, what you do, or how well you do it, they can’t possibly think of you when the right opportunity comes along.

My first NHL job is a perfect example. It only happened because I had built a relationship with the head therapist of the Montreal Canadiens. When the Assistant GM of the New York Islanders mentioned they were looking for someone, that therapist spoke up—and my name was on the table. Without that connection, that entire chapter of my life never would have happened.

Here’s the thing: expanding your circle of influence isn’t about self-promotion—it’s about genuine connection. That means being curious, asking questions, listening well, and sharing just enough of yourself that people get a sense of who you are and how you think.

Too often these days, conversations feel one-sided. I’ve walked away from chats where I know a lot about the other person, but they know almost nothing about me. I make a point of weaving in short stories so they leave with a feel for who I am. Conversation is a two-way street, and you never know which one might open the door to something big.

And here’s an easy way to start nurturing your network: send a quick message to one person a day. Just one. Over a year, that’s 360 touchpoints. That’s 360 people who will remember you the next time an opportunity comes their way.

Because here’s the truth—people rarely get work simply because they left a résumé on a desk. Even if that gets them in the door, the decision usually comes down to who they know—or who knows them.

So the next time you catch yourself wondering why someone else got the call instead of you, remember: in the background of that opportunity was preparation, visibility, and connection.

Are you prepared?

Something to think about.

What’s the Point?

“I’d rather be a great father than a great golfer.”

– Scottie Scheffler

Another interesting and poignant sporting moment set the table for this week’s reflection.

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you know I’m not a believer in the never-ending chase for more—the pressure to get rich, be famous, or achieve some illusion of greatness.

This week, world number one golfer Scottie Scheffler reminded us why that path so often rings hollow.

“There’s a lot of people who arrive at number one and then say, What’s the point?
Why do I want to win this golf tournament so badly?
That’s something that I wrestle with every day.”

In a post-round press conference, Scheffler questioned the very nature of his pursuit.
He wasn’t cynical. He was honest.

“What’s the point? This is not a fulfilling life.
Even if I win, it’s going to be fulfilling for two minutes, and then we’re on to next week, talking about how important it is to win the FedEx Cup.
Does it fill all the deepest parts of my heart? Not…”

He even went as far as to say:

“If golf ever affected my life with my family, it would be the last day I ever golf again.”

So what can we take away from this?

Ironically, this clarity is exactly why he’s free to be the best golfer in the world.

He knows what matters.

He’s in love with the process, not the outcome.

“I love putting in the work. I love the practice. I love the challenge.”

And above all, he understands the true prize—his family.

“Golf isn’t the most important thing. I’d rather be a great father than a great golfer.”

In a world where power, influence, money, and fame flood every corner of our media, it’s deeply refreshing to see a top-tier athlete push back—not with arrogance or bravado, but with humility and grounded purpose.

Now, you could say it’s easier to feel that way when you’ve reached number one in the world and earned hundreds of millions of dollars. And yes, you’d have a point.

But that doesn’t make the pursuit of those things right or fulfilling.

The money doesn’t fill your heart.
The status doesn’t.
Nor does the fleeting moment of winning.

It’s all a mirage.

What does fill your heart is the love of the work itself—and the connection to those you love while in service to something greater than yourself.

Don’t you think so?

Character, Tradition, and Being Present

“The true test of a man’s character is what he does when no one is watching.”

– John Wooden

I found myself having a lot of conversations this week—unintentionally, but consistently—with different friends who work in human performance. And oddly enough, each one circled back to a common theme: character.

Then, over the weekend, I had the time (and privilege) to watch the Wimbledon Men’s Singles Final. Wimbledon has always been one of the most iconic and impressive sporting events on the calendar. Like the Masters in golf, it’s steeped in tradition, ceremony, and exquisite detail.

In a way, these events elevate the people who compete in them. They set a bar—not just for performance, but for behavior, temperament, and grace. To step inside that arena, you have to rise toward something greater.

This year’s final featured two of the best young players in the world: Jannik Sinner and Carlos Alcaraz. Both have ascended into the rarefied air once occupied by the Big Three—Federer, Nadal, and Djokovic. And the match didn’t disappoint.

Alcaraz brought his best, but Sinner, perhaps still carrying the sting of his French Open loss to Alcaraz, rose just a bit higher and claimed his first Wimbledon title.

What struck me most wasn’t the quality of play—it was the quality of character.

Alcaraz was gracious in defeat, praising Sinner and his team with sincerity. Sinner, in turn, spoke respectfully about their friendship and mutual admiration. It was beautiful to witness.

Tennis, I’ve always felt, is a sport that naturally cultivates this kind of character. Not always, but often, there’s an undercurrent of respect in the language, the interactions, and the rituals. Winning matters—but it’s not weaponized. There’s grace in both victory and defeat.

Wimbledon takes that energy and amplifies it. From the ballkids and groundskeepers to the chair umpires and royal box guests, everything is polished, intentional, and respectful. Some might call it pretentious—and yes, there’s a touch of that. But at its heart, there’s something deeper: a reverence for the sport, the process, and the people.

It’s in the details. The all-white attire. The strawberries and cream. The bow to tradition. You don’t just watch Wimbledon—you feel it. It’s a sensory experience. A celebration of presence, poise, and purpose.

And it makes me wonder:

Why does it work there?

And how can we bring more of that energy into our daily lives?

Not the pomp or pageantry—but the respect. The gratitude. The awareness. The small nods to those who’ve helped us. The humility in winning. The grace in losing.

I think too many of us coast through life unaware, distracted, and ungrateful. We forget to notice. We forget to feel. And when something like Wimbledon comes along and makes us feel, we realize how much we’ve been missing.

That’s the cost of not being present: we disconnect from our senses—and from meaning.

So maybe the takeaway is this:

How can you be more in tune with your senses?

How can you more consciously engage with your experiences?

How can you carry yourself with a bit more presence—and a bit more character?

Something to think about.

Be Here Now

“Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present.”

– Eleanor Roosevelt

I was just lying on my back on the screened-in porch—my summertime sanctuary.

The sounds of the birds, the fresh air, the green everywhere, and a certain quietude—it’s the perfect space just to be.

I had just finished showering after hiking the mountain near where I live. It’s a solid 875 meters of vertical over about 4.5 km, and I usually take the gondola down. It’s part of my summer rhythm—almost weekly. A little less in the winter.

It’s a great workout, and today I followed it up with some neuro drills, a good stretch, and a blissful nap.

Why am I telling you this? It might sound like I’m bragging about my life. But that’s not my point.

This is about intention.

What I packed into today was driven by one thing: my daily intention to be physical, to move, to be outside in fresh air and sunlight as often as possible.

When I say intention, I don’t mean rigid goals or fixed expectations. Some days it’s a full mountain hike. Some days it’s just a 1 km walk to the mailbox and back. Both matter.

What matters most is that I’m present when I’m doing it.

I’m not checking boxes on a to-do list. I’m connecting to the experience. I’m hearing the birds, feeling my heartbeat, noticing my breath as it quickens and slows. I feel the challenge of the climb, the ease of a simple walk, the restfulness of lying on my porch.

And I let it all unfold as it needs to. I don’t force the hike if it’s not in me that day. That’s not giving up—that’s listening to what my body and mind actually need.

Today, I napped for 35 minutes. No set alarm. Just what my body required.

Then I lay there, just listening.

Last night, I was watching Stanley Tucci’s show where he travels across Italy tasting incredible food in every region. What struck me—besides how remarkably fit he looks for someone whose job is to eat—was how fully present he is in the experience.

That’s something Italians, as a culture, seem to understand deeply. Food isn’t just fuel—it’s about taste, tradition, plating, ambiance, and connection. It’s intentional. It’s social. It’s an experience.

There’s a beautiful flow to it—from the first glass of wine and small antipasti, to the rich flavours of the piatto principale, to the perfect wine pairing. And it’s savoured.

You can’t truly experience something if you’re not present.

We’re not present.

We rush. We multitask. We forget to feel.

We need to slow down.

We need to invest in our senses, our emotions, and our relationships.

We need to be here, now.

This isn’t whoo-whoo. It’s life.

It’s movement.

It’s connection.

It’s the experience.

Be here now……..

How will you remind yourself to be present?

Friendship Means Everything

“Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends.”

– Virginia Woolf

This past weekend, I attended a professional conference that brought together people with whom I don’t spend large amounts of time, but who have become good friends.

It made me reflect on how friendship expresses itself, what it truly means, and how it evolves and reinvents itself, especially these days.

When I grew up, friendship was forged in the fire of shared experiences—both the good and the bad—through middle school and high school. It was sports played, games won and lost, epic parties, and simple moments of boredom, often filled with stupidity and laughter.

Time and tension were the forges that shaped those bonds. Some of them, even decades later, feel exactly the same. I have friends from high school that I see every few years, and each time we reconnect, it’s as though no time has passed.

Every so often, I open my phone to 100+ back-and-forth messages from this gang of elders, debating the latest sports event or laughing about some crazy thing someone got up to.

After high school, university became the next fertile ground for friendship. Like most people, some lifelong relationships were formed during those years. It was different, though—not quite the everyday immersion of high school. Friendships formed around class schedules, projects, sports, and parties. If you lived in residence or shared a house, you might have recreated that high school fraternal vibe.

When these foundational life stages ended, work became the primary opportunity to build friendships, along with the pastimes you explored outside of work. But now, the time you spend with people is filled with purpose and agenda. It’s often compressed and challenging. The experiences you share in these spaces are different, but they can still yield incredible friendships and profound growth.

That said, life’s responsibilities and constructs slowly shrink the time we have to simply be together. Long, aimless periods are replaced by short, intentional moments where life is experienced in snapshots.

Caring for someone else feels more precarious, less tangible, and often fleeting. But through recurrence and intentionality, you begin to build trust. You know they know. You know they want to know.

And then, if you have children, friendships often blossom from your kids’ friendships with other parents. These relationships can feel a little less stable, because they’re rooted in your children’s connections. Still, the shared experience of parenting—the challenges, the wins, the mutual support—becomes a powerful glue. There’s a unique comfort in knowing someone else has your kid’s back, just as you have theirs. It’s a vital part of the community you build.

Over time, you realize that friendship thrives in these brief, intense moments of presence, not necessarily in permanence.

You also realize you have a responsibility: to reach out, to circle back, to be open.

In today’s world, where we’re all consumed by digital life, friendship is both harder and simpler to maintain. Sometimes, trying to “design” it feels forced, and you don’t get the same magic.

You have to trust that the relationships that matter will bubble up and return, not always as expected, but as understood. You have to believe in your friendships, even if the connections are brief, unplanned, and shaped by timing rather than deliberate action.

When you force it or when you expect something from it, you’ll likely end up disappointed.

If you attach too much meaning to the moments you interact—or the gaps when you don’t—you create stories about what others think or feel. And those stories often lead to letdowns.

Friendship doesn’t have rules of engagement.

Real friendship is knowing that when you come together—whenever and however that happens—you’ll feel connected, known, and understood, even if it’s fleeting.

It also means taking personal responsibility for being present. Feeling what your friend needs. Sometimes they need a listener. Sometimes they need advice. Sometimes they need a complex conversation. Sometimes they just need to hear your story.

This past weekend, I had all of that and more:

• Quick catch-ups
  
  
• Informed conversations
  
  
• Deep, meaningful interactions
  
  
• I listened to a friend’s story of surviving cancer
  
  
• I watched friends present their craft on stage
  
  
• I toured a friend’s impressive performance environment
  
  
• I laughed—big laughs, little laughs, the kind that come from deep inside
  
  
• There were brother and sister hugs, handshakes, and fist bumps
  
  
• I listened to stories, and I told some of my own
  
  
• I finally met in person some friends I’d only known on Zoom since the pandemic
  
  

Because I didn’t force it—because I just allowed it all to unfold—it was rich, beautiful, and it filled my heart and soul with the real food of life.

As I grow older, this is where I find peace, energy, and a deep sense of self—in the richness of friendship, with all its facets and fault lines. However imperfect, when you let friendship be what it is, you feel fulfilled.

So I ask you:

• How does friendship live within you?
  
  
• How does it serve your life?