I spent around 16 years in the Canadian Special Forces. Beginning in the Canadian Special Operations Regiment and finishing as a Team Leader in JTF2.

Here are some things I learned or traits I tried to embody but forgot sometimes; letting my emotions or ego take over.

There’s always someone better.

Never think you got it. Firstly, because no one does, everyone here (on earth) is just making it up as they go along. There are no adults. We’re all just children with jobs, mortgages, and a boat load of anxiety. Tier 1 Special Forces is no exception.

And if you think you got it, the second someone new waltzes in the door who ‘has it’ more than you, you’re fucked. I’ve seen it, and I’ve experienced it. Your ego starts to sound the alarm. But I was the best shooter in this team! And then it starts to rationalize itself with some lies. Well, I’m better than he is at this or that. Or, I’ve got more combat experience than he’ll ever have. This is not good; for performance, for anything.

You’re good. You’re you. That’s fine, you’re enough baby. And don’t worry… that new guy’s got a boner problem anyway. So ha.

It works the other way around too. When you don’t think you have it, or when it’s clear, you absolutely do not have it. I experienced this as a 19-year-old private in the army. In the back of my mind I always dreamed of becoming a JTF2 Assaulter, but it seemed as likely as becoming a quarterback in the NFL.

And then, one day, two guys from my squadron went to JTF2 selection. I looked up to these guys, they were both really good soldiers and were the fittest dudes in the Troop. I couldn’t beat them in lifting weights, pushups or pullups, or running, or anything. And when they came back after two or three days having failed, their sad faces carried the death of my dream. If they couldn’t do it— it was out of the question for me. It took me eight years to realize I was wrong.

But the reality is, they’re not you. They might look better on paper with a certain aspect or trait, hell, they might even be better than you with something you’re good at. But that’s okay. There’s always someone better. And we don’t get the trophy, or the girl, or our dream job with some talent or genetic gift. The thing is, the secret is, your determination, your commitment, and your consistency are how you get it.

Tom Brady was drafted 199th in the NFL draft. Thomas Edison had a hundred failed experiments before the lightbulb, and someone right now is being born in poverty to sick and disgusting parents, and they’ll rise up to be a king. You can too. Don’t worry about the others. There’s always someone better, but that doesn’t mean shit.

If it needs to be said, say it.

I struggled with this one. Usually, I would see some sort of injustice, or an officer messin’ things up, and because I knew my comments would fall on deaf ears; or because the change I knew we needed would take a herculean effort; I held my tongue. Other guys did too.

And then, because I held my tongue too long, when things were about to go off the rails, or I just couldn’t stand it anymore, I would burst out with a flare of emotion. Telling them all why they were so wrong and why I was so right. Didn’t they see their stupid ideas were stupid? Didn’t they see that there was a better way to do things? Maybe. Maybe they did, but now they didn’t care.

Once, fed up with a certain technique we used to teach CQB (close quarter battle), I ranted to the more senior instructors and explained there was a better way. My way, a far superior way. And when that didn’t really get much traction, I spent days working on an email. I had anecdotes, comparisons with other teaching methods, I pointed out that it wasn’t how the guys in the teams did it after they graduated, and I even had a little spreadsheet with green and red colours so it was easy to see their error.

Obviously, it didn’t work.

The opposite is also true. People held their tongue when things needed to be said but it was uncomfortable because the person who needed telling was of a much higher rank. Or because the person who needed to say it didn’t want to seem like a burden, this usually took place when said person was beginning to climb the ladder. Not the boys in the teams. If it’s your job to protect your subordinates from abuse or short-sided errors from the powers that be, you must be willing to have the uncomfortable conversations. If you can’t, don’t take the promotion.

If it needs to be said, say it. Don’t wait. Use tact and be polite, leave the emotion at the door— yes, even if you think it’s a matter of life or death; because usually, it isn’t. Give them time to understand it from your perspective. The insight didn’t come to you in a flash, and it won’t for them either. And if it still doesn’t fly, that’s it. Accept it and move on.

Most things you can’t do alone; some things you must do alone.

I guess it goes without saying that the old adage is true. There’s no ‘I’ in: “All you fuckers get on the bus.”

We all work as a team. And there’s no way I would have accomplished what I did in the military if it wasn’t for my friends around me. They pulled me half-starved out of swamps. They wrestled me away from three hundred pound bouncers and put me to bed when I was too drunk. And they challenged me everyday to be the best I could without ever knowing it. If I have any regrets, it was those last years, when I lost my spark. I could have tried a little harder. Not for the man, but for them, the men. My brothers.

If I was any good at being an Assaulter it was because I was striving to be good for them. My medals and my pictures in the hallways don’t say anything of me. They speak of the guys around me. None of it would exist without them.

When I came into work in the mornings, it was their faces on my mind. If I volunteered to go on a mission or a deployment, it was because I knew they were gonna be going. And if things were hard, which they often were, it was them that I’d ask for help.

Thank you boys. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you.

But here’s something that most people won’t tell you. Some things you must do on your own.

Friends, family, and therapists, will all say that they are there for you, and they bloody well might be. But no one is inside your head but you. When things are really bad, when things are bad because you caused them. It’s on you.

To truly make a change or get through those difficulties in life, you need to reframe it. You need to wake up and tell yourself how it’s going to be; day, after day, after day. And sometimes, minute to minute.

All great achievements were done alone. All great comebacks were done alone. We’re born alone and well die alone. Stop trying to find something or someone to help you. You have everything you need. Just look inside yourself and tell yourself those words. You know what to say and you know you need to say it but are avoiding it.

If you believe you need something, you will; if you believe you are something, then you will be. But the reality is— our beliefs create our reality. If you believe you need the bottle or those pills or that weed, well, the world will confirm just that. If you believe you can’t do it alone, then the universe will collapse and conspire to make it so.

Sometimes it’s foolish to look for solutions in the outside world; they’ll only confirm what sick beliefs you can’t let go of.

Meritocracy still exists, sort of.

I’m happy to report that the scourge of DEI did not infect the ready commandos that protect this country.

If you work hard and you got it, you’re in. Anyone can try, everyone gets a fair shot. And I often took solace in the fact that the men around me, the boys in my squadron, were the best. That we all earned it equally. And we kept each other honest every day. Because if someone started to slip… they would be informed, ricky tick. And the same would go for you, fair is fair.

But nothing is perfect and life isn’t fair. In all jobs and walks of life people get a leg up that they didn’t quite deserve. And great people get passed over for deeds they’ve done in silence. Humans decide which accolades to hand out and to whom. And humans are, well, human. They make mistakes too. Some of the greats work away in the shadows.

I often felt like I was one of these. I never did receive any big awards or claps from the crowd. I never got any Commander’s coins, bravery medals, or pats on the back for extra efforts. I was with my boys working away, raising my hand for the next mission, because that’s why we were there.

Watching others get what you think you deserve is hard. But like I said, life ain’t fair. And you know what you did, and you didn’t do it for that crap anyway. It only stings because your ego is playing games again.

So stand up. Give ‘em a clap. They worked hard too. It doesn’t mean you didn’t. We’re all a team and we’re all trying our best. So hold your head up high brother. You did good work, I’m proud of you.

Playing the game.

I struggled with this one too.

Don’t take things too seriously. I see many people going about their workdays stressing about things or battling colleagues like if things just don’t go the way they’re supposed to go someone will die or something will explode.

I actually worked in a life and death environment. And the vast majority of the time, no ones life was on the line. There is a lot of practice, make believe, and yeah— lot’s of emails and paperwork too. Most of it (all of it) doesn’t matter.

“Don’t fight the plan, fight the fight.” I don’t remember where this saying originated by I credit my buddy Justin for making me remember it.

Ask yourself, what’s the goal here. Keep it in mind. And you will often find most people, including yourself, are trying to fight the plan, not the fight.

I used to guide groups on week-long canoe trips. We would choose ‘a leader for the day’, and ask them to lead the pack up of camp in the morning, plan the paddling route and breaks, and otherwise just be responsible for the day.

After hearing their plan, if I thought, no— if I knew there was a better way to do it, that they only had the 75% solution instead of the 100% solution, I didn’t say a word. Who cares, literally, who cares. I’ll tell you— your ego. You just want to be right. You don’t actually want to accomplish the mission. You want to fight the plan and not the fight. Well, just shut up and let this person work. It’s how they’re going to learn anyway.

“A good plan today is better than a perfect plan tomorrow.” — And if you know where that quote comes from, you’re my friend.

Okay, let’s talk about ‘them’. The bosses, the higher ups, the people with corner offices, the people with their faces framed by cheap wood and plexiglass in the front hallways and mess halls. Why are they always messing with us? Why can’t they see it our way? Why can’t they leave us alone?

I’m not sure I can give you a perfect reason why. Maybe sometimes they are just messing with us. But I’ll tell you what I came to realize and it did help a little bit. I would tell it to the younger guys when they were in some sort of lunchtime rant about ‘them’.

Everyone is just solving problems. That’s what work is; problem solving. Even if you’re just making someone’s morning coffee, you’re solving this persons energy problem, and she’s gonna give you a little tip for it.

And when it comes to JTF2, we’re solving the country’s problems. The government says, hey, we have a problem here. Then they look for people or organizations to solve said problem. And if the problem is big and dangerous enough, they call JTF2.

The CO of JTF2 receives the problem and then does the same calculations that the government did. Can I solve this? What skills, equipment, or people, are required to solve this problem? If he needs to pass it down, he does.

And so by the time you or your little team gets this problem it’s safe to say that there’s a whole bunch of people that couldn’t solve it. That’s why it’s now on you.

And here’s where it gets tricky. We start to say things like; we need this or that thing or we can’t get it done! Or, we need more time, why can’t they give us more time! Or, we don’t have enough people, we need more. We need more of something or we can’t get it done. And for some reason, we scream up the hill for these things, we think the problem should come to us with all the solutions already packaged with it.

(Don’t get me wrong, your superiors are supposed to enable you and provide you with what you need to do your job. That’s not exactly what I’m talking about and it only goes so far.)

The reality is, they don’t have those things. They don’t have those people, and they don’t have the time. If they did have those things and those people and the time— they would have fucking solved the problem themselves! They wouldn’t need to push it down to you. So there’s always going to be this push and pull, this juxtaposition between the problem solvers at the bottom and the people who pushed the problem onto them.

Get over it and get on with it.

Listen to everyone. Reject most of ‘em.

“We did it differently back in my day.”

I’m sure everyone from every walk of life has heard something like that. And while sometimes it holds some valuable lessons, mostly it does not. Things change, obviously.

I often found some itchy urge inside of me in the later war years. Iraq, etc. When newer guys would be spitballing ideas about how to do this or that. Things we did in Afghanistan ten years before. At first, I would try to school them, sometimes it worked, but mostly it didn’t.

It’s okay to reinvent the wheel sometimes. People need to come to their own conclusions on things. And what seemed to be such an amazing idea back in the day; sometimes it really wasn’t, we were just fooling ourselves. Or just making the best with what we had. Gun tape and chicken wire solutions.

When a new guy is going through his training pipeline, and generally within his first year in the stalls, he’s inundated with advice and stories from dozens of old dogs. I tell them all the same thing. Usually right before I lay down some ‘Jwat wisdom’. “Guys, listen to everyone, reject most of ‘em— including me.”

Have an open mind, suck in all the info you can. But sift through it for yourself. Make it make sense in your mind and apply it to the environment you find yourself in now. Not what the environment was a hundred years ago. A beginner’s mind, in all things.

Own your mistakes.

This is common dog in our world. It’s drilled into you and if you don’t get it, you ain’t gonna make it. And they have ways of finding out if you’re a little weasel or not. So if you’re not actually a truthful person and you’re only doing it when you think ‘people are watching’, you’ll get found out.

The civilian world might not go to these lengths or have the culture of ownership but the universe does. Karma is real and it will bite you so hard you’ll wish you were dead. You’ll cry to the heavens and not even realize it’s your karma, it’s you.

It takes balls to stand up in front of your squadron as a new guy and apologize for shooting a hostage in training. Or worse, hitting a friendly. But it happens, pretty much to us all. It even happens when you’re not a new guy anymore. Literally everyone makes mistakes, so don’t feel bad, and don’t hide them. Owning mistakes builds trust within your team and with yourself. No one gets fired for an honest mistake.

Be accountable for your shit. Don’t get so out of balance that the world needs to come crashing down on you to rebalance. And if you’re currently making a mistake in your life and you know it— stop it. Stop it right now man. You can do it.

Take the sh*t jobs.

I’m not talking about sweeping the floors and cleaning the break room.

I’m talking about those tasks or side quests that just don’t seem to line up with our career goals. Maybe it’s a new assignment. Maybe it’s a dog and pony. Maybe it’s helping the boss with a new client, or a work trip for some weird new product that you know ain’t gonna lead anywhere.

Take them. Do it. And learn it. So many times in my career did I reluctantly take on some other course or task that didn’t see to serve my main purpose— jumping out of planes and killing bad guys. But you know what? It always made me better, and it made me more employable. It made me see connections in things where others didn’t. And it made me meet the people on the sidelines, in the ops rooms, and in the mechanic bays. And having relationships like that and understanding what those people go through is a valuable lesson for whatever you’re trying to accomplish. And it’s just the right thing to do.

Our lives are a long haul. And you never know who you’re going to meet or what crazy thing you might experience. You have time. Take the shit jobs. Take things on and become a student of more things than just your little world of ‘me’.

Have fun.

Self explanatory.

I guess I would just say, don’t have so much fun that the bosses come sniffing around. I made that mistake a lot.

But boy was it fun ;)

— Jwat

note: Substack does not allow for proper novel formatting. I apologize if the paragraphs seemed cramped together. It is what it is.

Part 1

Into The Deep

“The moral of the story is to pay attention.”

May 1754 - July 1755

Life and Death

This story is about how I lost my life but found something real. In fact, you could say I died twice; but we’ll get to that.

I do believe that my story should be told. It holds keys to our world and lessons for our children and the generations to come. It can help, if not you, now; then someone— somewhen.

It’s true what they say, I was there, at the deciding battle. And despite what the storytellers and kings of the future will say; the war for the continent was decided by Indian warriors and young frontiersmen on the edge of the known world in wilderness that would end European aristocrats. I don’t think they will ever understand how little influence they truly had.

The war for the New World rested in our hands.

My wife has long since passed into the afterlife. She encouraged me to tell my story but I never could. I am old now and don’t know how much longer I have. I’ll write to you my story, everything I can remember. Hopefully you’ll find in it the answers you’re looking for. All I ask is that you see to it that my story lives on, that the souls in the future understand what happened here, what happened in Quebec, and who walked the land under their feet before them. We are connected.

I believed in two worlds; good and evil, heaven and hell, light and dark. Then, years later, I didn’t. It became more like the inside one and the outside one; connected by things unseen by man. A worldview— no, a knowledge— a knowledge about the world and our place in it. A knowledge of how to live; and how to die. A knowledge of the universe and the spirits within; a knowledge I must tell you about now. And there is much to tell.

I was taken, a slave to the Algonquin far-Indians of the Great River in Upper Canada. They were Anishinabeg— Original People with their tongue; relational to the Ojibway’s. Excellent warriors and travellers of the land. Savages to the white man. They say that the white man treated the Indians worse in those days, but that’s not my memory. It’s worse today. Back then, the French respected the native’s prowess in reconnaissance, warfare, and hunting. And traded and fought alongside them as equals. I cannot say the same for the English or for the Americans whom they spawned.

I was taken by an Algonquin band who had a spiritual connection with the northern lands and the animals within. The Kitci-sipi-rini— The People of the Great River, or simply, The Sipi, as I will refer to my band henceforth. The Sipi would take me to another world, to the Great River and beyond.

Their skin was dark red-brown, tight, rough on the edges, cracked from the sun, and thin enough to see their muscle fibres. Teeth were often missing but the ones that remained held their condition well. They stood average height or shorter and carried dark eyes surrounded by a yellowish-white. Long and oily black hair was ubiquitous, most used animal fats to keep it in a shiny condition, men and women alike wore it long; often in braids or knots. Men, braves, shaved the sides of their head and often portions of the top, their long braids extended from the crown of the head, facial hair didn’t grow and if it did it was always cleaned up. Most men had an equal number of tattoos and war wounds.

Deer or moose hides were stitched together with threads if available, sinew if not. Moccasins, mittens, caps, jackets, and dresses for the women were done in this fashion; and beaver or rabbit furs were used in the linings. Breechcloth, leggings, wool sash-belts, and other wool items were traded for often. Embroidery and beadwork were common. Small shells, beads, feathers, and hand-crafted dyes were used for the decorative work. Men used red dye for war-paint.

Their language was spoken fast, but they spoke less; the tones and sounds seemed to have been drawn from the animals and land they worshipped. They carried a collection of items, a balance between ceremonial and the practical. When I was taken almost all Indian bands used European goods and clothing. I did not witness a band who resisted their influence, we all used their modern tools and weapons, even in those northern reaches where the white man begins to speak English again.

I was handed over to two Algonquin men from the Sipi on the 28^th of May 1754. And they took me. They took me to a new world, the so called savage world. I was seventeen years old.

Kitchi and Nootau were the two men who took me.

Kitchi: Kitchi-Manidoo-naabe, The Great Spirit Walker, or Great Spirit Traveller, would be approximations in English. Kitchi— the great, is a short hand used for him. Similar to paying respects to our respected elders, but not simply because of their age; Kitchi— the great one, noble father, the old wise one. It was also the name used when referring to their ‘God’, The Great Spirit— Kitchi Manidoo. In native culture names are given at specific times for specific purposes. The names are more than placeholders or references to long lost saints. For them, there’s a link between the name and what it represents and who it is bestowed upon and why. For Kitchi, it couldn’t have been more apt. And for what a name like that represents, every member of a band would respect it, even if they didn’t respect the man. In the case of Kitchi, it was both.

Kitchi was tall and barrel chested. His overall size and width was much bigger than the average Indian or white man. I often imagined him in the centre of a Roman legion with a golden chest plate and legionnaire shield, swinging a mace or long lance at ravaged lions or the barbarian hordes. A scene that seemed better fitting to his size and stature. He had a tall head, a big forehead, and a rare thick chin; his face blank and expressionless. His hair long and neat, a mix of black and grey, he never braided it. Kitchi’s hands were double the size of a normal man’s.

The other man that took me was Nootau— Nootau-Gaabow: He Who Burns and Stands Firm, or— The Fire-Burner, The Burning One; Nootau. He was younger than Kitchi and of average size. He had wiry muscles that twitched on the surface of his skin and a pointy hawkish face, like an eagle or bird of prey. Sunken eyes that could pierce and a long braid of hair extending from the back of his skull; the sides and back of his head shaved to the skin and usually marked with red dye. A scary sight. And he wanted me dead from the moment we met.

Kitchi didn’t speak often but he communicated. He viewed words to be used last. His actions, his presence, and the looks he gave communicated a great deal. It was a remarkable feat I witnessed on many occasions.

Nootau was the opposite. He often spoke first, fast, and loud. Regretting things he said but covering them up by other words or new actions. His movements often reminded me of lightning; a movement initiated and completed before you were fully aware of what had happened. I often felt a lot of his actions, especially those in anger, came and went like lightning for him as well, like he wasn’t in control. I watched him often. Sometimes I could see this energy in his body, even sitting on a stump on a quiet day, I’d see his fingers or sometimes his legs bouncing and vibrating like a woodpecker— whose sharp beak and pointy head feathers weren’t too dissimilar from Nootau’s angled face. An angry bird looking for prey to pick apart for no other reason than it can. If Nootau was the sharp quick crack of lightning, Kitchi was the slow heavy rolling thunder that followed.

I was taken to a lake that we called Jack Pine Lake. It was the spring, summer, and fall camp of the Sipi. The lake is in the watershed of the Great River (Kitchi Sibi), now called the Ottawa. The Algonquin Sipi called the tributary Mada-was-ka Sibi, and it extended westward from the Great River and up into the dense forested highlands.

The entire basin of the Great River and its tributaries is a vast inland area of water, rolling peaks, lumps of bedrock, and valleys. Everything is covered in green-growth and thick trunks hundreds of years old. I did not witness any cutting; that began in your time. The only areas not covered by endless forests are water. And there is much water throughout the land. Interconnected lakes, rivers, streams, ponds, swamps, bogs, and back channels. And the Sipi knew them all.

This is the reason why the natives of New France constructed lightweight canoes and boats made of birch and spruce. An invention that I found special. A requirement for travel in the north woods. The other requirement was deep knowledge of the terrain, forest, waterways, a knack for way-finding, and a knack for war-fighting— or staying alive. Every Algonquin clan has dozens of stories of relatives paddling around a bend in the river never to be seen again. Even if a man had an excellent sense of direction and resourcefulness, there were many ways to die alone in the dark green Algonquin forests.

I once knew a brave who was badly attacked by a cougar and then a full-grown male black bear on the same day. He survived by plunging his fingers into the large cat’s eyes as its teeth cracked into his skull. He had two small holes in the top of his head. And that is to say nothing of the Wendigo and the other spirits— but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Principally, the territory of the Algonquins that lived in the north on the Great River and its tributaries was unforgiving and deadly. And cold—bitter cold. In the spring and summer game and fish are plentiful. Harvesting is relatively simple if you know what you’re doing. And the Algonquin plant squash and and corn when the soil permits to supplement their diet. The fall and winter is for hunting, but the winter is also a test of your will. Every year is a game of starvation and hope. It could generally be considered a good winter by a band if it had lost only one or two members during the winter. This is usually to starvation, but sometimes to cold and sometimes to falling through the ice. And sometimes, men go mad.

The winters start early. Sometimes the snows come a month or more before the days stop shortening. The snows come heavy and don’t let up until the spring, and even then they try and stay around. Once the winter sets in the lakes are frozen solid with an arms width of ice, the snows pile up to half a man’s body or more, and then a sharp and deep freezing sets in until the equinox.

This means conditions for travel are extremely difficult, and basic tasks like hunting, fishing, foraging, or even just staying warm, take fortitude. Some would say a manly fortitude. I met only one European woman during my years with the Sipi in the north, and she was a colonel’s wife in Fort Frontenac, holed up in a stone house with a hearth. But this is a false belief, the women and children of the so-called Far Indians have an inner strength and a quiet solemn attitude while withstanding brutality and hardships. A quality that I do not see in many white men, especially today. But this is a requirement for life above the Great Lakes.

The warm months were much different. The sun was warm and the days were long. We hunted and played games, and we made friends and we made lovers. There were ceremonies and many stories to be told. We learned from the land and we learned from the spirits. We came together like animals, like we always did. If it wasn’t for war and winter life would be a delight. But I suppose that’s not the point. “A path with no hardships leads nowhere.” Kitchi once said to me. And that stuck with me. Most of the things he said did.

In the mornings the yellow sun would rise and bring about the birds and the bugs, the rodents, the beavers, and the bear; and it would shine on the slopes for the deer. The wind would begin to tilt the tree tips; waking with the sun; it would flow to her from the west, breathing air into the forest, into the animals, and into us. We’d eat and we’d laugh. We’d hunt and we would craft. And in the evenings the red sun would set. We’d gather ‘round the fire and settle. We’d give thanks to the day, give thanks to our friends; human and natural; and sometimes we’d dance. We’d dance until the sky turned black and the stars came out to play. They’d tell us more stories; stories of our past, stories of who we are and where we’d come from. And sometimes if you were lucky, maybe they’d tell you a story about your future.

The story follows Elias, a young man caught up in the great conflict when he is captured and taken in by a native tribe, a common practice during the era. He is thrust into a world he doesn’t understand and is forced to deal with life, love, war, and destiny. And the things that lay dormant in our souls.

note: Substack does not allow for proper novel formatting. I apologize for the blog-like formatting. It is what it is.

The French and Indian War

North America

1754—1759

A time not that long ago half the world met the other. And just as things have always been, man’s insatiable hunger for control led to death, injustice, and eventually— total war.

The North American continent— the New World— was carved up by the empires of France, England, Spain, and the Dutch. Contending with each other and an elusive and canny indigenous force, territorial boundaries and their owners changed hands often. The state of affairs in North America as it is today was by no means a certainty. And the outcome balanced precariously for many years; and especially during a tense few months in the summer of 1759.

Divinely, the fate of New France and the American colonies in British North America would not be decided by kings, infamous tyrants, wooden armadas, or armies with a hundred battalions. It would be decided by crafty guerrilla warriors, frontiersmen, colonial militia, second-rate generals, and, predictably, the unforgiving and wild Canadian terrain.

A plethora of sources exist to read about Virginian Major George Washington (yes the future first President of the United States) and how his defeat at Jumonville Glen started the giant conflict in May of 1754; or about British Major-General James Wolfe, and his months-long siege and eventual capture of the city of Quebec, the gates of Canada, against French general Montcalm, culminating in his death, both their deaths, and the British-American victory known as the Battle of the Plains of Abraham (1759).

Scholars and historians have captured it all in detail. There is no shortage of official records and personal accounts of the war ravaged periods during the 18^th and 19^th centuries in the New World. They account the names, places, dates, strategic concerns, supply routes and logistics, political ramifications and blunders. The weapons, the ships, the orders, the men and their possessions. The indigenous forces, who they were aligned with and when, how they fought, and how they lived. Exact in detail and taken mostly from firsthand sources one can read all about what happened. But— history isn’t only about what happened. Stories show us what it felt like for it to have happened, to live the history through the eyes of another.

These special and rare accounts do exist, like a shipmate’s diary or a general’s personal letters home. And, like the case of this story, a story that is hard to define, for when it was discovered and finally read; some said it was a story about connection and family; others said it was about God, or hidden powers; but mostly they said it was about love, and, they also said, it was about the possibility of what could have happened when the two worlds collided.

The story of Ashka Migizi was found in a molded trunk unearthed from stone ramparts from the forgotten remains of the French Fort of Frontenac, site of modern day Kingston, when excavators were stripping the earth for a new Sears in 1964. One hundred and fifty years after they were written and Two hundred and ten years after the events they described.

When the leather-bound trunk was finally cracked open it initially appeared to only contain one man’s 18^th century war fighting equipment; a mix of well-crafted indigenous weapons and clothes, British-American firearms and shot, and French troupe de la Marine tools and uniforms. But upon further investigation by the Royal Ontario Museum, they discovered a false bottom in the rotting chest. And stuffed into the tiny sealed space was a stack of handwritten letters bound in leather. A large eagle’s feather and a small stone arrowhead were tucked into the thin leather ties and rested neatly on top. The leather cover had no markings and was deteriorating. Inside the leather flap and scrawled on a single sheet of now yellow-brown paper were the words “The Twelfth Arrow”.

The letters tell a story that takes us through what some today call the Seven Years war but was mostly referred to as the French and Indian War. A war that spanned not just the entire eastern North American continent but also ravaged all of Europe and the Atlantic seas. It was the first true world war— as Winston Churchill was quoted as saying many years later.

The story reveals some painful truths and also some timeless lessons. It appears to have been written during the War of 1812, but the scholars debate this. And the story appears to have been written with a specific recipient in mind. Some say the clues to who it was for are in the story. And a few say that they weren’t meant for anyone in particular. But maybe the mystery is part of the story. Maybe there’s a hidden historian in all of us. And maybe, it was written for you.

But what about the overlapping scars? What about the wounds and damage that lives below our perceptions, what about the wounds that are diffuse, or the mysterious ones that live in some sort of orbit in our psyche’s— appearing in seeming randomness throughout our lives. How can we be certain of which wounds are healed, which are torn forever, and where one gash ends and another begins.

I’ve lived a life in cahoots with trauma and death. But understanding which wounds I have and from where and when they came eludes me. And when we finally look for the source of the bleed we often seek out others. Psychologists, therapists, family, friends, colleagues, anyone who’ll listen, anyone who has an opinion. And thus far I’ve pieced together this: doctors are good at naming things, soldiers are good at rationalizing things, family and friends are good at condemning things, but the universe is good at explaining things— if you can listen.

The interior of a Light Armoured Vehicle III, or LAV3 as it’s colloquially called in the Canadian Army, is ingrained in my memory. I must have spent over five hundred hours inside of it over the course of two years which included seven months in Afghanistan in 2008. Initially, while in Canada, I was trained as a gunner, the operator who sits inside the gigantic weapon turret in the middle of the war machine. One little chair for the gunner, one for the crew commander. Seven men sit ready in the trunk, and a driver up front. But by the time we deployed to Afghanistan in the spring of 2008, I had changed roles and was now one of the troops in the storage compartment of the vehicle, jumping out of the big truck and into action on foot depending on the task; sweeping the road for mines or IED’s (improvised explosive device), searching buildings and compounds, fighting the enemy on foot, or any other action required.

This was a relief for me. I had often wondered, or day-dreamed (if you can call it that), about what it must be like to be in the LAV— especially the cramped and mechanical gunner’s turret— if the vehicle were to get hit by an IED.

The turret of the LAV 3 has to be the most unforgiving, cramped, and painful little place to be. You try to resist any unwanted movements or jerks from the large armoured vehicle as it bounces of the rocky terrain. Every little dial, button, handle, or control switch, is cased in some sort of sharp-edged machined aluminum, and when the vehicle rocked or shifted your body slammed into these hard metal pieces. The whole module housing the gunner and the crew commander was also incased in a kind of metal fence, to protect anyone else in the vehicle from getting a hand or limb crushed while the gunner was traversing the turret around looking for threats. Oh, and stored in a large metal bin between the crew commander and the gunner was a stack of primary ammunition: hundreds of 25mm high explosive/incendiary rounds each about the size of a child’s forearm.

To imagine being in this turret surrounded by sharp metal and bulky army idiot-proof switches, perched next to stacks of high explosives, while the vehicle got hit by a roadside IED, was a little personal nightmare for me. Fortunately for me it wasn’t to be. Unfortunately, for many, it was. And it was the fate of one of my best friends, Stephen Stock, on August 20th 2008, he was from Medicine Hat, he was 25 years old.

On the 20th of August my section was stationed at FOB Wilson. That day there were no missions for us, and we went about the small camp maintaining gear, watching movies cramped around laptops, or generally doing anything to avoid the screaming 40 degree heat. I don’t remember the time but it seems to be around late afternoon or early evening in my memory. Someone pointed out a large black smoke plume streaming up towards the sky, maybe a few kilometres down the road from our FOB. Something was on fire, and not the benevolent type of fire. Thick black smoke usually meant something was on fire that wasn’t supposed to be. Some comments were made about what it could be. No one from our camp was out that day. We weren’t aware that one of our sections from another camp was out with a Troop of armoured soldiers from Val’Cartier, and driving down Highway 1 near our FOB.

This was Afghanistan during the height of the war— there’s always stuff on fire or exploding. At some point we all get desensitized. The small group commenting on the fire broke and everyone strolled across the thick crushed gravel back to their green tents and little worlds of refuge. An hour or two later we were summoned by our Troop Warrant. He delivered the news. We sat and stood amongst cots, dusty gear, cases of water, and the odd personal item in a soldiers bunk space. One of the sections from our Squadron, the one my friend Steve was the gunner for, was hit by a massive IED just down the road. The LAV3 they were driving had only four members (Thankfully). Two were killed instantly, one slowly, and one got ejected from the vehicle during the blast and broke both his legs but survived.

The news lands and the tent is silent… every soldier hearing the worst possible news, followed by the second worst: our friends are dead, and there’s nothing we can do about it.

Sapper. Stephen Stock, Corporal. Dustin Wasden, and Sergeant Shawn Eades. Their callsign was Echo Two One Bravo, E21B.

It’s hard to accept and there’s only so much you can do. We’re still stuck in a FOB in an extremely dangerous area of Afghanistan. I chat with a friend of mine, another close friend of Steve’s. We reminisce about a hiking trip in the Rockies the three of us and my brother took shortly before coming to Afghanistan. I have a vivid memory of Steve rolling a massive round boulder down a huge embankment and giggling like a small boy at the speed and destruction the rock had on the other stones and ledges as it careened down the mountain.

We were in month six of a seven month tour of duty. We had already lost two guys that month, and would loose three more in a quick afternoon in about two weeks. Suffice it to say, morale wasn’t at an all-time high. You can feel the mood change during these waning months. This is around when most soldiers start to fade from excited adventure to melancholic acceptance, or worse— fear. The fun is over, we just want to get home, alive.

Traditionally, when a soldier was killed in action there was a Ramp Ceremony held for him or her on the tarmac at the large airbase outside Kandahar City. And once again on the tarmac in Trenton when they landed back home. In Afghanistan this ceremony served as a ritual for saying goodbye to the ones we lost, to deliver them back home with heroic dignity, and for those still breathing to come together and support each other; ensuring the enemy doesn’t have a morale victory as well.

Teammates and friends carry the caskets of the fallen in military parade fashion onto a waiting transport plane while other soldiers from all participating NATO countries stand at attention; watching, and paying their respects to the fallen. Each fallen soldier has an escort, a partner or close friend, who stays with the fallen for literally every minute until they are brought home and laid to rest. My friend John went with Steve.

“We can’t go back to base. The operation is starting tomorrow”, was the word around our camp the day after Steve, Shawn, and Dustin were killed, “we’ve got shit to do.” A large and important company sized operation had been in the works for weeks. A large scale clearance operation in the Zhari district where many Taliban had been hiding out for years, and where around a dozen or more Canadians had been killed since ‘06. We were not going to go back to the airfield for the ramp ceremony, we were never going to see our friends again. The thick, dark, fast-rising plume of smouldering LAV3 smoke would be the last memory we would have of them.

No goodbyes, no parades. A mission into the dusty depths of some Taliban hideouts. Suck it up and move out. It’s time to go to work. And to work we went.

I’m retired now. I share more stories than I used to. People were always curious though. Many civilians like to comment on soldiering. Or ask questions. Must be hard, they say, all those pushups? How heavy are your ruck sacks? Did you ever jump out of an airplane? And, There’s no way I could handle all that discipline, I don’t know how you guys do it! The five am wake ups, not for me. What’s the hardest part they finally ask. What’s the toughest shit they made you do?

It’s hard to say, we say.

It’s hard to say.

But why? Why do we have to hedge what we say here? Why is there always some caveat when someone wants to talk about men’s issues online or in public? Look up any book, research article, podcast, or interview about men’s issues in the 21st century; almost 100% of them will have a token line or paragraph saying that they acknowledge the struggles women face.

There’s no need to apologize or add caveats. There’s only 2 of us here, men— and women. We’re both in this together. And the reaction I had inside my body to try and smooth out the beginning of this article to avoid being labeled as too masculine, is part symptom of what’s happening in society that’s causing trouble for men.

Biology

In every animal species each sex has a variety of different traits. Some are similar and some are very different. Combined together they create the conditions for optimal life and cooperation within the species. Wether they work in pairs, family groups, or tribes; having the traits from both sexes is required for optimal health and growth in the cohort. But the fact today is, because of historical mistreatment of women, and progressive post-modern radical thinking, we treat and talk about men like second class citizens to the detriment of us all.

In wolves males are slightly larger and more aggressive. Their traditional roles are territorial defence, patrolling, and hunting large prey. While the females are responsible for rearing the young, hunting small to medium sized prey, selecting den sites, and pack leadership / cohesion. Wolves are among the most cooperative and dynamic species on our planet.

In Killer Whale pods females are responsible for navigating, maintaining the social organization, rearing and training the young, and resource distribution. While the males are sent out for long-range exploration, deep dive for food, and protection of the pod. These are the great cooperators of the oceans. Their complimentary skills make them successful hunters and create large and intricate social groups.

Different ≠ Unequal. Nature demonstrates that traits aren't about hierarchy but about complementary functions. Clarity in roles reduces conflict and increases efficiency. But our society today makes all efforts to ensure we downplay the differences and muddy the roles. And suggests that one of the predominant traits of our males is negative and undesirable— masculinity.

Groups for boys and men

During the Battle of the Atlantic British sailors during WWII noticed that young men would die at higher rates than older sailors after being ‘torpedoed’ and sent adrift in lifeboats or scattered into the Atlantic. “They didn't die from lack of knowledge, but from lack of hardiness.” was the common conception. So a school was created in Wales to train and make-ready young men for the rigours of the sea and war. The school is called Outward Bound and it still exists today and has expanded to over 30 countries.

In 1942 the school was commanded by J. F. "Freddy" Fuller, veteran of the Battle of the Atlantic and survivor of two successive torpedo attacks. At one point he commanded an open lifeboat in the Atlantic Ocean for thirty-five days without losing a single member of his crew. The school focused on teaching young men mental toughness, confidence, self-reliance, group cohesion, and the will to survive. All skills useful to young men during wartime, as well as afterwards during the repair and rebuilding efforts. Survival rates improved for the remainder of the war.

Fast forward to today and not only are mental toughness and physical courage seen as hyper-masculine and thus negative and to be avoided. But the school has completely transformed and is no longer an institution for boys and men. Outward Bound Canada (OBC) has programs like ‘Women of Courage’, and leadership development programs of which 56% of the participants coming from ‘Equity-deserving Groups’. OBC also informs us that 21% of its total participants for 2023 were from the 2SLGBTQIA+ community.

This is just one small example of the broader pattern in society of suppression of male traits and male only spaces. We see this in the military, sports programs, eduction, higher-education, groups like the Boy Scouts (now co-ed) and other camps and clubs, workplace cultures, and even men’s charities like Movember; all feeling the pressure to conform to the culture and add space, time, money, and words, for women.

This pressure is creating direct impacts to society. It’s fuelling a mental health crisis in men, forcing a decline in male achievement, the disappearance of male spaces, and suppression of male traits. Creating weaker emergency services, reduced societal resilience and cooperation, lack of male mentorship, and a breakdown of male bounding. It’s not about dominance, we require the energies from both male and female, society needs both— we are complementary. It might be uncomfortable to understand the male traits, especially when it comes to violence and aggression. But unfortunately it’s required in life. We need healthy male expression and we need to have those traits in our species. That’s why they’re there.

To climb out of the freezing cold Atlantic and drag your busted ass back onto a lifeboat drifting around dodging Nazi submarines only to be picked up, dried off, and tossed back onto a battleship to launch missiles at Germans is a masculine trait. And England wouldn’t exist today without maleness and the people that had hyper-masculine traits. (including woman)

Today there’s a grand total of 3 men’s shelters in the United Kingdom and 1 in Canada (yes, one). Testosterone levels have dropped, sperm counts have dropped, and although not entirely correlated; birth rates have also dropped. Toxic masculinity is mental toughness rebranded by woke rent-seekers who work from home and can’t squat their own bodyweight.

Men account for 75-80% of the suicides in North America (3-4x higher than females), 40% of men report regular mental distress, increased diagnoses of depression and anxiety, and massive increases in social isolation. 30% of young men report no intimate relationship in the past year, 27% of men under 30 report zero sexual activity, and male virginity past the age of 25 has doubled since 2008.

Men are more likely to be the victim of a violent crime, get injured or die at work, get incarcerated, die in combat, to get addicted to harmful drugs, to be homeless, and to kill themselves.

This has broad social and societal impacts, most of which are only just beginning and are poised to continue and or get worse. Marriage rates are lowest in recorded history, male enrolment in college is down, male unemployment is rising, the average male spends 7+ hours a day on a screen, and more men are living with their parents than at anytime since the 1940’s. And video games, pornography, substance abuse, and isolation, are all treading up— fast.

Most men are lost and wandering around feeling unwanted. Men are openly ashamed and blocked in every layer of our culture, and apathy has taken root. Young men have very few role models, and any progress or talk about men’s health or issues is met with criticism about being too masculine or taking resources and attention away from others. Young men have stopped eating meat, playing sports, lifting weights, and have forgetting how to change the oil in a car or throw a punch.

Wartime

I believe that all the negative talk about masculinity and aggression in men will go out the window come wartime. We want our men weak and docile. We want our safe spaces and we want forced-outcomes between men and woman when it comes to C suite jobs and positions of power. But when the war bell rings; guess who they're gonna want to drive the tank and man the machine guns? Men. Poor men.

The Canadian Armed Forces, along with all other government departments including the Prime Ministers Office have sent out all manner of subliminal (and overt) sexist comments, statements, and policies. Reading them while switching the roles in question, we can easily call them out for what they are— sexist.

Here are some examples of research articles from the apparently ‘scientific’ Canadian Military Journal, Summer 2023 edition:

• “I’m Not Your Typical White Soldier”: Interrogating Whiteness and Power in the Canadian Armed Forces

• Supporting Military Families: Challenging or Reinforcing Patriarchy?

• Women’s Deployment Experiences: Safety, Barriers, and CAF Culture Change

• Anticipating Future Culture Struggles Over Contested Military Identities

• Getting to the Root of the Problem: Understanding and Changing Canadian Military Culture

The implicit crux of these these articles; the ‘root of the problem’, or the ‘barriers to change’, are men. And more specifically— white men. In the scientific article ‘Getting to the Root of the Problem: Understanding and Changing Canadian Military Culture’ authors Maya Eichler and Vanessa Brown write:

“Largely unwritten yet commonly held notions of who constitutes an ideal military member tend to centre cisgender, heterosexual, Anglophone, white, able-bodied men of settler colonial heritage. In this way, the military is a product of, as well as an agent in the reproduction of, the very root causes that lie at the foundation of its culture problem.”

and

“Sexism is the key ideology of patriarchy, ascribing to women characteristics such as weakness, deference, pacifism, and nurturing, and to men characteristics such as toughness, violence, strength, and rationality. Militaries are key patriarchal institutions. Their internal organization reflects the masculine biases and male power found in broader society. At the same time, men’s dominance in positions of power and privilege within militaries supports patriarchal forms of domination in broader society.”

And in the article Anticipating Future Culture Struggles Over Contested Military Identities author Captain (Navy) retired Alan C. Okros writes:

“Expanding on Raewyn Connell’s foundational work, the literature on militarized masculinities highlights the problematic standardization of specific masculine behaviours associated with white male heterosexuality and normalized performances of these behaviours within militaries that stand to privilege most men over women, and subordinate some men to others. Sandra Whitworth notes that, in the CAF, masculine behaviours are founded in relation to general principles of “violence and aggression, institutional unity and hierarchy.”

and

“Echoing the call from scholars, the CPCC shift in CAF identity is from a singular ideal hero warrior to recognizing multiple ways to demonstrate military identity. This initiative acknowledges that the warrior image is rooted in an outdated hero archetype which emphasizes combat/kinetic functions performed by those who are strong, stoic, and physically resilient (along with being white, male, and cisgender).”

The core function of the military is to protect our nation from adversarial dangers that threaten the life, limb, and sovereignty of our country and its inhabitants. To say that the warrior is “in an outdated hero archetype which emphasizes combat/kinetic functions” is laughable. The only thing that’s going to stop the enemy from riding over the hills and slaughtering everyone is COMBAT and KINETIC functions. The Canadian Armed Forces is not a social welfare program, DEI experimental playground, dumping ground for poorly designed and slow to finish procurement programs, and sure as hell isn’t a place where we should be degrading to men, their mental health, and their contribution to society.

“… an ideal military member tend to centre cisgender, heterosexual, Anglophone, white, able-bodied men of settler colonial heritage. In this way, the military is a product of, as well as an agent in the reproduction of, the very root causes that lie at the foundation of its culture problem.” — Say what? White, able-bodied men are not a problem. And they’re not a culture problem. Every subsection of society has its own culture. Created by the people and the interactions within. It changes rapidly over time. The ‘communitas’ is a fluid and dynamic thing. We should not try to conform cultures (in any subgroup) to conform to ideals that we think are right. Especially so in groups and domains where we are not involved or have no skin in the game.

I don’t know what it took to hold the line against the Germans in France during WWI. The trenches were packed with able-bodied white men. The culture was probably vastly different than what you and your family experience today in your groups and workplaces. Our job isn’t to conform these group cultures and identities, but allow them to foster optimal culture for the job and task at hand. War is hell. War is about getting the job done no matter what. We risk our life and limb to protect those we love and those that cannot protect themselves.

Bullying and hazing is something that has been rooted out in our society. In elite military groups or combat outfits (since the time of the Bronze Age), there has been a high level of peer-pressure, bullying, hazing, and a bottom-up group dynamic when it comes to enforcing the standards. Military men uphold certain standards of toughness and grit for a reason. It’s not because they don’t like beta males; it’s because when the shells are exploding all around you, your teammates are wounded, and the enemy is coming down the trench line— a lack of grit will get us all killed.

This is not to say that the characteristics and personalities of those who have been washed out of military boot-camps and other programs are bad or somehow inferior or less-than. It means that they fit into a larger picture and fill different roles in our society, just like the animals in the wild. Ants wouldn’t put the Queen on the front line, and wolves don’t send their matriarch to patrol the territory.

Masculine rituals and groups for men exist in silo’s for a reason. Cultures of the past understood the importance of training and testing their men— sometimes at the expense of their health and wellbeing. The Dagara people in Western Africa have a coming of age ritual for their young boys. When the boys are in their teenage years they’re sent away from the tribe and the tribe’s women. They spend time in nature with male elders and eventually they’ll spend a significant time alone before returning to the tribe having had a spiritual transformation and thus grown into adulthood. The Dagara tribes accept that some boys may not return from their solitary spiritual quest, that boys (and the tribe) require that they go through hard times— even if it means their death. Because if we don't and we coddle them, hard times can mean death for not just the young men but the whole tribe.

Humans are anti-fragile; we need pain for growth. Learning to push through tough times is something we all go through. But again, some groups, and some sexes, require more or less depending on the task at hand, where and when the society lives, and the individuals soul or life-path. What looks terrifying and unnecessary to you might be non-negotiable for others. And the comfort creep in today’s society is pushing our men and masculinity to levels unsafe and not fit for even a peacetime society.

Even the most basic level of hardship and conflict for children has been erased— unsupervised play. Expertly described in Jonathan Haidt’s book: The Coddling of the American Mind, the lack of unsupervised play among children in North American is contributing to a lack of confidence, depression, anxiety, lower testosterone levels, lowered sex drive, and a general drop in health of young men. No longer left alone to sort out their own disagreements, or forced to deal with the pain of rejection and conflict without the intervention of parents and elders. Our children do not learn how to regulate themselves enough to operate effectively in our easy-paced society. And there’s no way in hell any of our boys would survive for a week or two in the West African wilds with their African counterparts.

What now

The Canadian Armed Forces has done away with almost any physical or performance standards except for a few remaining specialized units. Over the last 50 years the damage and degradation of our nations defences hasn’t come from our enemies, but from within. We did it to ourselves.

If you have the ability to create new male spaces in your environment, do it. If you have the resources to create groups for men and boys, do it. We need to celebrate masculine virtues and maintain the standards where they’re applicable. As we’ve seen, the standards for male bonding in male groups designed societal defence have been set for thousands of years. This does not mean woman cannot meet or shouldn’t meet these standards. This means the standards are there for a reason, and should not be adjusted to create a sexual balance where biologically speaking, there shouldn’t be. We need to recognize biological reality.

A society that suppresses healthy masculinity doesn't eliminate masculine energy— it merely ensures its expression will be unhealthy.

According to some, the above scenario isn’t just possible— it’s probable. James Dale Davidson and Lord William Rees-Mogg write about the upper classes having a luddite reaction to progress in a portion of their book The Sovereign Individual. It’s one of the most eye-opening books I’ve ever read. And it was written in 1997.

The History

When new technology helps with coercion and wielding violence it comes at the detriment of the humans at the bottom, the masses. The benefits flow to those who are in control. The industrial era made it easy for states to control their citizens within their borders and extract wealth from them via taxes with very little effort or resources. As historians say, the returns on violence were high.

The second option is when new technology improves freedom and sovereignty; when the returns on violence are lowered. In these cases, (printing press, internet) the benefits flow in the opposite direction— into the hands of the many. Creating more freedom for citizens and disseminating wealth and freedom back among the population and away from centralized control.

We’re on the cusp of another power change. When wealth and power slide away from centralized authority. But these transitions usually come with tension and friction in the system. A luddite reaction to progress is one such friction.

The term Luddite comes from early 19th century England after new mechanical technologies were invented, most notably the weaving machine. Skilled textile workers and master craftsmen felt the demand for their skills diminishing and their social status eroding. They revolted, sending letters to mills and machine manufacturers instructing them to stop the progress or face violence. They signed the letters ‘from King Ludd’, a mythical figure they created.

We know now that resisting technological progress is almost always useless, even if the change-avoiders get violent, which the Luddites did. Breaking over 1,000 machines across the countryside, killing mill owners, forming militia’s, and fighting the 12,000 government troops which were deployed to stop the violence. Dozens of Luddites were eventually imprisoned, tortured, and executed for their crimes, and a new law was created: The Frame Breaking Act of 1812 made machine breaking punishable by death.

Another example is the invention of the printing press in the 15th century, which kicked off one of the most violent and deadly times in history and is similar to the change upon us now. At the time society was governed and controlled by the church. They had a monopoly on book and manuscript production, control of eduction, control of the money supply, and overall authority. The invention of the printing press and the ability to rapidly create and copy books enabled literacy and the exchange of ideas on a scale not ever seen before in human history. No longer did humans have to rely on the powers of a select few to tell them what and how to think; they could read, learn, and study for themselves.

Once the people had the technology to learn and speak for themselves, the traditional power structures that were in place slowly got undermined as more and more people realized the control and manipulation they were under. The same thing is going to happen over the next few decades.

Thanks to the printing press, Martin Luther’s 95 thesis in 1517 spread across the land and became one of the biggest turning points in history. Rapidly disseminating information that was previously controlled by the church. Citizens were able to speak out against the powers that be and the hypocrisy, over-induldgences, and secret blasphemy the church was engaged in behind closed doors. Giving voice, freedom, and understanding to the masses.

The church responded violently and recklessly. An index of forbidden books was created, book burnings were rampant, and the reformation kicked off one of the most violent stretches in human history, the Wars of Religion, and the 30 Years War (1524-1648).

But I doubt anyone today would suggest we shouldn't have invented or adopted the printing press.

Those that are in power and those that benefit from the incumbent structure will resist change. They cannot see into the future, so they’ll grasp with life and limb onto what they have. The lesson here is that violent resistance to technological change often comes not from the technology itself, but from the loss of institutional power it represents.

I believe the fall from grace and the subsequent revolt will be even stronger in the 21st century. As the majority of the modern managerial classes are not skilled workers. They are hand-me-down’s of a previous generations skills and meritocracy. Today they’re handed spots at elite universities and positions in the public sector based on the wealth of their families and modern day critical theory.

500 years ago freedom technology made possible for everyone to have sovereignty over their knowledge. 500 years later, freedom technology makes it possible for everyone to have sovereignty over their money.

The Modern Managerial Class

Today, the hypocritical, pompous, know-it-all managerial class, who sit in their home offices tucked into sunny windowed corners of million dollar mini mansions, casually conducting wasteful zoom meetings, and pushing informational gravy around the plate with spreadsheets and slack messages no longer contribute any tangible benefit to society; and will eventually revolt when the changing technological situation shifts them into insecurity, status-loss, and panic. Some will inevitably resort to violence.

These net-consumers in society not only sit atop boards and committees to instruct us how to behave more ‘equitable’ or ‘carbon-neutral’, they’re fuelled by the stolen wealth from the remainder of society. Overtly and covertly extracted from the population and sprinkled around at the whims of politicians and un-elected officials.

Energy and production actually do matter to society. The future Neo-Luddites only generate heat in the system, not actual work, they’re the brakes. We can’t have a small number of builders, producers, and creators, while the vast majority are gatekeepers, managers, facilitators, and politicians; sucking value from the people and processes without contributing any value of their own. This is called rent-seeking. Too much and the systems burn rate is higher than its input.

The genius and the dumb-ass working in the same government department collect the same paycheque. There’s no incentive for them to produce or create. The welfare-state grows as it sucks more and more people into its payroll. Implementing new and more interesting ways to extract the wealth from society to pay for itself. But we’ve passed an invisible point of no return: when more citizens in our country rely upon government for their income and life services than those who are net contributors to it. We’ve become employees of democracy, not customers.

The over abundance of net-consumers in society (consumers of the society’s energy itself) eventually leads to the system lurching and grasping more wealth to sustain itself— instead of trying to fix the problem and reduce the amount of consumption, they:

1. Find more ways to extract the wealth of citizens to be distributed to the net-consumers (new capital gains tax) (more services for newcomers and net-consumers)

2. Stop citizens and net-contributors from leaving and tax them if they do (exit taxes)

3. Find new ways to shift the benefits to those who are net-consumers and away from net-producers (Quebec suggests only giving family doctors to sick and injured citizens)

These actions are immoral because there’s no way to opt-out of the system. The government doesn’t ask or tell you that it’s devaluing the money in your bank account to send out stimulus cheques or to pay for war. Government is organized crime at scale. The most immoral act is when they pass laws to extract more wealth from a certain subset of society without actually asking anyone in that subset. This is the ultimate hack for welfare-states: figuring out a way to vote themselves someone else’s money without their input.

They’ve assumed permanence, but nothing is permanent. There’ll be a restructuring, and it won’t be pretty.

The technology’s already been created, we’re just waiting for full adoption. As more and more people opt-out of the fiat money system, tax, and the welfare-state, all of this managerial waste and inefficiency will collapse. Tearing down the multi-layered ineffective organizations and burning up the rent-seekers paycheques. They’re vulnerable because they’re standing on our shoulders, on our wealth. And we’re about to take it back.

Because decentralized encrypted money equally serves the interests of every player, it’s only a matter of time before everyone is playing.

The Psychology of Status Loss

The managerial class of industrial society is particularly vulnerable because they’re mostly unskilled rent-seekers. Their jobs, salaries, and pensions are all propped up by the welfare nanny-state. Extracting wealth from the mass of society and eating up all their future prosperity to pay for seminar’s, working groups, working lunches, paid vacation time, working from home, severance packages, and assured retirement.

“I consider that to be a personal matter, and I believe I am protected by the privacy act in that regard.” — Canadian Broadcasting Corporation CEO Catherine Tait when asked if she would disclose receiving a yearly bonus on top of her $550,000 salary during a parliamentary oversight committee meeting. CBC is funded by tax payers.

The printing of money, subsidies, handouts, and all other government activities that inflate and devalue the currency disproportionately effect the poor. When the money supply in Canada is inflated thanks to government policy, or stock prices increase thanks to government intervention and manipulation of interest rates, who do you think benefits? Upper class people don’t care if the stock market and real estate arbitrarily increases in value— they own those things. And they don’t care if gas and grocery prices go up because they have money. But what about the middle class? Gas, real estate, groceries, clothing, and stocks all increase in price… okay great, now it’s even hard for us to buy real estate or get into the stock market, and oh by the way, all your living expenses are now astronomical. What kind of system is this?

Politicians worldwide have been proselytizing about saving the middle class since time immemorial. But their actions tell a different story. Keeping the powerful in power, and the rest— oblivious and at work.

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Thanks to Bitcoin and other encrypted technologies more and more wealth and energy will continue to be transferred from central authorities to the hands of sovereign individuals; where it’ll remain impossible to extract. (just as the knowledge lodged in the heads of 16th century peasants after learning to read)

The downfall will begin with a loss of identity and status. Years invested in credentials, education, high salaries, premium real estate, retirement plans, and their lifestyle expectations will start to fade and become unaffordable, unpayable, or irrelevant. And their social influence, community respect, decision-making authority, and their children’s prospects will wash away causing an acute and painful identity and meaning crisis.

They’ll inevitably go through the stages of grief and become angry at the world. Angry at tech companies, angry at early adopters, and angry at the changing system. They might begin to bargain by proposing regulations or hybrid systems. Followed by depression at the acceptance of the loss of status, purpose, and identity, forcing many to become radicalized. To reject the new system, to justify their resistance, and to embrace extreme measures. It’s happened before, many times, don’t be so naive to think it can’t happen again.

Catalysts for Revolt

Approximately 3.5 - 4 million people (roughly 20% of total workforce) work directly for the Government of Canada. And approximately 25-30% of the workforce (4.5-5.5 million people) work in soon to be automated, low-skill and rent-seeking type professions such as; corporate middle managers, administrative supervisors, project managers, department heads, lawyers, accountants consultants, financial advisors, insurance brokers, HR professionals, compliance officers, regulators, and licensing administrators. This means that potentially 35-40% of Canada's workforce could be vulnerable to this type of displacement. They’ve become burdensome and detached from how society is supposed to work.

Roughly 4 million people and all government departments rely on the ability to extract wealth from the remainder of society. As more and more people hide their wealth with private keys, become locally focused and sovereign, they’ll have no choice but to become more ruthless with their wealth extraction and taxation. Eventually it’ll start to collapse and the panic will begin.

“What mechanisms do we have at all for simple things like tax enforcement? If in fact you can’t crack that at all, government can’t get in. Then, everybody’s walking around with a Swiss bank account in their pocket.” — Former President Barrack Obama speaking on cryptocurrencies and encryption technology.

The collapse has already started. Early signs are there. But taxes keep going up and up. Check your income tax statements, look at your receipts. How much have you paid in taxes this year? Last year? And what do you have to show for it? Did you have quick and easy access to healthcare? Does it feel like society is productive and creating new places to work and live? Does it feel like the military and infrastructure systems are improving and growing? Did the government add to its debt or pay it down? The costs don’t match the services— not even close.

The forms of government that will replace the status quo will be those that uphold property rights and administer justice while consuming the least amount of resources.

Decentralization and blockchain technology is already replacing many of our modern systems even if you’re one of the many currently unaware. Decentralized social platforms with no CEO operate without censorship and give content revenue directly to the creators (NOSTR). Bitcoin gives hundreds of millions of people permission-less, sovereign, incorruptible, freedom money, without a single employee. Smart contracts on blockchains will eliminate legalese middlemen and other rent-seeking jobs. And AI will replace many menial tasks and jobs along the way. It won’t be long before it’s too big for the average person to notice.

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When the majority of us stop using fake money and central authority loses the ability to tax us nefariously. What do you think they’re going to do? Pat themselves on the back for a job well done and head to the cottage for early retirement? — I doubt it. They’ll resist and fight any change that will collapse their power and wealth. Government is supposed to serve its citizens but the democratic nation-state uses its citizens like cows, keeping them in the field to be milked. Thanks to Satoshi Nakamoto, the cows have figured out how to keep, store, and trade their own milk.

Forms of Resistance

The person who thinks he or she knows the future is naive and wrong. We never know. But taking a step back and looking at things broadly, historically, and rationally, we can see 2 things:

1. Things always change

2. There’ll be resistance to change

The history on this is pretty clear. Even though our education system seems to have lost the will to teach the important things. The examples are there, if you manage to pick up a dusty history book and read it. There’s 3 things that appear to almost always precede societal collapse are: income inequality, wage stagnation, and competition for elite jobs.

Those that benefit from the current system will try to stop the change regardless if they’d be better off just accepting the change and going with it. They’ve already begun fighting. Resistance to freedom and sovereignty are rampant in the modern world. They steal our wealth, coerce and manipulate us with control of information, and spy and track us at every move (digitally and physically).

Most western countries have a tax for even trying to move aboard. Some, France, have even suggested an income tax on their citizens who no longer live in France. The futile regulatory war against cryptography is happening in some circles of power. But there are a few who are taking a different path, either because they see the prosperity it’ll create, or they realize anything else is useless. El Salvador has made Bitcoin legal tender and is mining Bitcoin with its natural resources. Switzerland, UAE, Singapore, Ukraine, and Bhutan are on similar paths. And the states of Arizona, Florida, Wyoming, and Texas have all passed pro-Bitcoin laws and regulations.

The knowledge 16th century peasants gained by reading Martin Luther’s thesis, and other works, couldn’t be removed. The damage was done, it was too late and too futile for the church at that point. You can’t remove the information from their brains— so they imprisoned and tortured them. After millions lay dead they finally relented. And a new era began, more open, and more free. People were finally allowed to have sovereignty over their voice and thoughts. Because they should. And today, you can store your wealth in your brain by remembering 12 words.

It’s playing out again. People should be allowed to control their wealth. A human should be sovereign over whatever wealth they produce or create. It’s theirs. A Canadian dollar saved from the year 2000 to today has lost 40% of its purchasing power. Where did almost half of the dollar go? I encourage you to learn that answer for yourself. But the short answer is— it was stolen, without a vote or explanation. Most people are unaware and they’re capitalizing on it.

Bitcoin and blockchain technology will be fiercely fought against and opposed by the powers that currently control fiat money and those whose way of life is threatened by the loss of it. It’s a sad reality that there’s nothing that they can do about it and that violence is most likely on the horizon before they realize it.

There’ll be political movements to ‘protect democracy’, ‘save the dollar’, and nationalistic type movements to protect the ‘way things used to be’, but there’s no such thing as ‘used to be’. And there’ll most likely be violent action against the new. But it seems to be in our nature, human’s are easily programmed. Those in the upper crust of society are there in large part not because of anything they did or didn't do, and same goes for those on the lower rungs.

At the end of the day, violence and revolution are not required, so we should strive to avoid it. Let’s educate ourselves and others about decentralization and encryption so politicians and the managerial classes who might react negatively can learn that things for them will be good in the future as well. And bring our voice to our member’s of parliament and government officials, to tell them that we want the future to be prosperous, that we believe the individual is sovereign and should not be subject to control or coercion. That we have the right to store our wealth without plunder.

Today, government money is controlled and subverted in a such a way that it steals the value of our dollars slowly over time. Rewarding and compensating our hero’s in Canadian dollars is unethical. Inflation, censorship, and reserve banking create a nefarious monetary system. We should all be saving our wealth in sovereign, sound money. And we should be compensating our injured veterans accordingly— using Bitcoin.

There are many good people working in Veterans Affairs Canada (VAC) on supporting our veterans and compensating them accordingly. And like most government departments I’m sure they could do a better job, this is not an indictment of VAC (I’m sure you can find many such critics online). But a suggestion to vastly improve the effects of whichever compensations or support programs the government, or future governments, decide to give to our vets.

Lets take a hypothetical injured Afghanistan veteran, we’ll call him Jeff, and use his potential compensation from VAC to illustrate how by paying Jeff in Canadian dollars we’re actually not providing him with the proper financial security and compensation for his sacrifices.

For the sake of argument let’s suppose Jeff lost both his legs in Afghanistan. Not unheard of in a theatre of war with IED’s and booby traps. Without diving too much into the details and convoluted nature of VAC’s compensation program, Jeff would be eligible for a ‘Critical Injury Benefit’ as well as ‘Pain and Suffering Compensation’ to “address the immediate impacts of the most severe and traumatic service-related injuries or diseases sustained.”

According to Veterans Affairs (In today’s dollars) Jeff will receive $87,992.30 from the Critical Injury Benefit, and $264,595.18 for Pain and Suffering (60% injury) if he chooses to take the lump-sum payment instead of a monthly allowance. He’ll also most likely be eligible for education grants as well as other benefits but roughly speaking he will receive about $352,587.48 Canadian dollars.

At first glance this might seem okay, but there’s one slight problem. A sinister one that’s a little bit hard to see and it’s slowly sucking the value out of all of our wallets. Inflation. The slow, and sometimes fast, increase in the money supply and total debt of our country erodes the purchasing power of our currency. Purchasing power is the term used to be able to afford equal goods and services over time. And the lack of the Canadian dollar to be able to hold its purchasing power over time is the reason why your parents could buy a home for a fraction of their income but your children will most likely not be able to afford one.

Canada uses the Bank of Canada to increase the money supply of Canadian dollars every year (They’re not required to do this but seemed to have been convinced that it’s a good idea). The so called ‘printing of money’ isn’t exactly printing but the usage of issuing new debt and other monetary instruments to pay for things we likewise wouldn't be able to afford; like Covid relief cheques. This is all well and good I suppose but we never seem to pay the debt off. And the more serious problem is that it creates an increasing money supply in our currency thereby devaluing the money in your pocket and in your bank account.

Above: The amount of Canadian dollars in circulation.

How is the average Canadian supposed to save his or her hard earned money if they keep dumping truckloads more into the pile? This is inflation. This is why gas and groceries cost more. Not climate change. Not some mysterious force.

As Jeff returns from Afghanistan and is released from the military (due to the fact he no longer has any legs), he’ll have his cool crisp $352k in the bank. Enough for a down payment on a house, and a big chunk he can put into his savings or investment fund for his retirement or to subsidize his income. But Jeff is like most Canadians, he’s not a stock trader, he just wants to put his hard earned money and compensation into a savings account and use it later.

But unfortunately for Jeff the Bank of Canada’s money printing doesn’t slow down. And he’ll need to find ways to make even more money to keep up with the costs of goods and services as he gets older. Markedly harder with someone with no legs. This is why more and more people are not sure about retirement. The good ol’ pension doesn’t go as far as it used to and more and more seniors in Canada find themselves working again and or living just above the poverty line.

Above: The loss of purchasing power in $CAD since 1970.

In 2024 you’ll need to have $8 to purchase what $1 did in 1970. This is a serious loss in purchasing power, the effect of inflating the money supply.

Let’s say Jeff was injured and released from the CAF in 2008. And if the rate of inflation continues around 2-3%, for Jeff to be able to use his compensation to buy the things he needs (the same things he needs in 2008) in the future he’ll need to have around $800,000 CAD. He’s going to lose at least half, if not more, of the purchasing power of his compensation as he ages.

Above: The loss of Jeff’s compensation package’s purchasing power due to inflation.

If Jeff just saves his money in a box under his bed, it’ll only be worth $150k of purchasing power (almost half) when he is in his 50’s or 60’s. Our money should work in the reverse fashion. Like Bitcoin.

Jeff should be compensated in sound money. Something the Government (blue, red or orange— doesn’t matter) can’t dilute, change, or influence. Gold is difficult to transfer and would be impractical for Jeff. And giving out free land is out of the question. So that leaves only one thing. Digital gold— Bitcoin.

Average home prices in Canada (CAD / BTC):

2018: $488,862 — 91 Bitcoin

2019: $502,811 — 45 Bitcoin

2020: $567,332 — 30 Bitcoin

2021: $688,096 — 12.5 Bitcoin

2022: $703,875 — 17.5 Bitcoin

2023: $678,282 — 13 Bitcoin

2024: $694,173 — 7.5 Bitcoin

2025 (projected): $722,063 — 3.5 Bitcoin

Sources: Statista.com, Yahoo Finance

Jeff and many other Canadians are saving in the wrong medium. The value of your stored energy should go up over time, not down.

There will only ever be 21 Million Bitcoin. Mathematically certain and physically impossible to change. Compensating Jeff and other veterans in Bitcoin— or teaching and guiding them to use their compensation and retirement packages to store Bitcoin for their future is the only way to properly compensate them in a way that is permanent. In a way that is moral and will allow them to have a prosperous future and recover from their injuries sustained in service to our country.

It also protects their compensation from any future government robbing them of their wealth with the printing of money for the next pandemic, social handout, or whatever ‘emergency’ said future government says is so important we need to artificially create more money; and thus robbing Jeff, all other injured veterans, us, and most importantly— our children.

Bitcoin is sovereign, digital, sound money. It’s the best monetary asset to hold and store your wealth and savings over time. Gold was great for the last 5000 years but gold can’t be sent over the internet, carried in your pocket (or mind), and its supply increases about 1-2% every year. With Bitcoin your money and value is secured, forever. And what’s more, you can self custody it. So no politician or CEO can change or remove your right to own and use your Bitcoin based on your actions or beliefs.

If you’re a veteran I highly encourage you to read and learn about Bitcoin. If you have been injured or will soon retire, taking a few days (yes it will take time) to learn about Bitcoin and how you can properly store your value for the long term can be life changing.

— Joseph Campbell; The Hero With a Thousand Faces.

We have a hidden story inside our subconscious. You’ve been told it before. Some call it folklore, fairytale, superstition or myth. Whatever it is, it’s been with us a long time.

In 1949 author and literature professor Joseph Campbell called it the ‘Monomyth’ or, The Hero’s Journey. And according to Campbell, it’s the story of every human as well as all humans. That our lives arch along a certain path, a pattern that takes us through life’s stages and brings alive our purpose; to actualize ourselves with what we are meant to become. The Hero’s of our own stories.

The story roughly goes like this: We’re born into a simple and ordinary world, and then one day something or someone calls us to adventure (we must leave our comfortable nest), but simple-minded and innocent— we refuse. Scared of the unknown and failure we resist until fate intervenes. Eventually we give in or get pushed and thrust into the unknown; fresh, naive, green-eyed, and accepting of the adventure calling us.

The adventure will take us to a different place, a ‘special world’, and along the way we’ll face challenges and obstacles. But we also meet friends, mentors, and enemies. Mentors are specifically important says Campbell, they give us the knowledge and tools to preserver. And the power to slay the dragons and save the princess.

The roadblocks and obstacles Campbell calls thresholds. And just like in the movies we finally reach the point of no return, the boss battle, the ultimate threshold, or ‘the inner most cave’. It’s going to take everything we’ve got to get out of this one. It’s the Hero’s ultimate test.

But to survive ‘the belly of the whale’ says Campbell, the hero must die and be reborn.

“The idea that the passage of the magical threshold is a transit into a sphere of rebirth is symbolized in the worldwide womb image of the belly of the whale. The hero, instead of conquering or conciliating the power of the threshold, is swallowed into the unknown, and would appear to have died.”

— Jospeh Campbell

But the hero is not dead. He’s been reborn. Shedding his old skin and becoming something, or someone new. It symbolizes many things including getting rid of the traumas and characteristics that have held us back— whatever has stopped us from being the Hero of our own story.

The last stage for our hero is the ‘return’. The monomyth says that we shall all eventually return home to share the knowledge or artifacts we’ve gathered on our journey. We give back by teaching others about the journey and our rebirth.

“When the hero-quest has been accomplished… , the adventurer still must return with his life-transmuting trophy. The full round, the norm of the monomyth, requires that the hero shall now begin the labor of bringing the runes of wisdom, the Golden Fleece, or his sleeping princess to the renewing of the community, the nation, the planet, or the ten thousand worlds.”

— Jospeh Campbell

It sounds nice doesn’t it? You might think it sounds like a movie. Well that’s because it is. It’s almost all movies and most novels. The strangest thing happens when you learn about the monomyth and The Hero’s Journey. You realize it’s the story of all stories. Not just the old stories Campbell references: The Epic of Gilgamesh (1200 B.C.), The Odyssey (800 B.C.); tribal stories spoken around the fire for thousands of years; religious texts (the story of Buddha; 400 B.C.), Jesus Christ; but also newer stories from Shakespeare to Tolstoy, and finally to modern day movies like Star Wars, The Matrix, and Harry Potter. A quick YouTube search will give you hundreds of videos of people explaining on how to write a screenplay or a novel using Campbell’s Hero’s Journey framework.

After studying many ancient texts and stories Campbell realized that us humans keep telling the same story over and over again. And then eventually he (correctly imo) realizes that the monomyth isn’t just a story— it’s a guidebook. Human beings naturally produce, tell, and live the monomyth. Because the myth of The Hero’s Journey is inside of us. And Campbell further cooborates this after reading and learning that some of the greatest psychologists have discovered the same phenomenon, but not in books, in our dreams.

“In our sleep and in our dreams we pass through the whole thought of earlier humanity. I mean, in the same way that man reasons in his dreams, he reasoned when in the waking state many thousands of years… The dream carriers us back into earlier states of human culture, and affords us a means of understanding it better.”

— Friedrich Nietzsche

And Freud explains the connection of the symbols of myth that his patients describe in their dreams and what humans write and speak about in myth and folklore.

“This symbolism is not peculiar to dreams, but is characteristic of unconscious ideation, in particular among the people, and it is to be found in folklore, and in popular myths, legends, linguistic idioms, proverbial wisdom and current jokes…”

— Sigmund Freud

This is evidence of the collective unconscious of humans. That the myth, symbols, and archetypes that appear in our stories are the same ones that appear in our individual unconsciousness— in our dreams. Refusal of the call, meeting a mentor (obi wan), killing the father for the mother (Oedipus), and other archetypes like the shadow or the trickster that have been noted by Carl Jung, all have roles to play in the monomyth.

Myth is our collective general guidebook about our story and the steps along the way. Our subconscious (our dreams), they’re the individual guidebook. They’re what is trying to nudge us in the right direction. To keep following our story.

“Dream is the personalized myth, myth is the depersonalized dream.”

— Jospeh Campbell

Do you feel like there is an adventure that’s been calling you? Do you dream?

From my experience mentoring people there are some common phrases that I hear every year: ‘Loss of purpose’, ‘I need to find my direction’, ‘I want to start the 2nd phase of my life’, ‘This (one thing) is the only thing that keeps me going or gives me meaning’. And, ‘I feel useless or broken’, ‘there’s no meaning’.

Many ancient tribes and societies knew the monomyth. They wouldn’t call it that but they were aware of certain thresholds and challenges one needs to pass through to come of age. Becoming a man, becoming a mother, going to battle, becoming a leader or mentor, and eventually dying. Life is difficult and people struggle, thus many cultures in different places around the world used the same tool to guide each other through these thresholds— rites of passage.

“… consider the numerous strange rituals that have been reported from the primitive tribes and great civilizations of the past, it becomes apparent that the purpose and actual effect of these was to conduct people across those difficult thresholds of transformation that demand a change in the patterns not only of conscious but also of unconscious life. The so-called rites of passage…”

— Jospeh Campbell

Campbell identifies the 3 main rites of passage along our hero’s journey:

We must separate from our humble beginnings, die and be reborn through initiation and trials, then return home having changed to teach the lessons learned. This cycle can represent different phases and aspects of our lives, as well as our life in totality.

Modern society and our lives today are different from our ancestors in ways we cannot comprehend. We no longer live in collectives. We no longer have rites of passage and people that can show us the way. We no longer look inside ourselves. And we no longer ask what does it mean?

The unconscious mind gives signals in different ways than the conscious one. Maybe you’re on a false path, or maybe you’ve just lost your way. But the body knows. Those little hints and weird coincidences that tug your shoulder. That thing that just seems to keep catching your eye. The recurring dream or the feeling deep down inside you barely acknowledge exists. It’s there and it’s trying to tell you something.

We’re all somewhere along our hero’s journey. If you’re stuck in life and something doesn’t feel right, or you know what it is but can’t find your path— chances are you’re avoiding the next stage of your journey. I was too. But, I did feel those weird moments and day dreams. Something inside of me was ever so slightly nudging me and reminding me to not get lost. To follow my journey even though it had gotten hard. And that I must change to move forward.

Take note of how your body reacts to certain thoughts and conversations. Realize how you feel when you watch a movie or read a novel. Day dream about your future and where you want to be. Read, talk to others, and then reflect. Do not be so busy with the trappings of your fast-paced chaotic life that you don’t hear your soul’s whisper. The signs are there, they’re everywhere.

“The unconscious send all sort of vapors, odd beings, terrors, and deluding images up into the mind— wether in dream, broad daylight, or insanity; for the human kingdom, beneath the floor of the comparatively neat little dwelling that we call our consciousness, goes down into unsuspected Aladdin caves…

… some chance word, the smell of a landscape, the taste of a cup of tea, or the glance of an eye may touch a magic spring, and then the dangerous messengers begin to appear in the brain… for they carry keys that open the whole realm of the desired and feared adventure of the discovery of the self. Destruction of the world that we have built and in which we live, and of ourselves within it; but then a wonderful reconstruction, of the bolder, cleaner, more spacious, and fully human life”

— Joseph Campbell

What is your story trying to tell you that you’re avoiding? Brushing off as weird coincidences or impossibilities. Humanity has given you the story and your subconscious will show you the chapter you’re stuck on.

I’ve been taking people into the wilderness to help them discover themselves for seven years. Not only does being in solitude and nature help you listen to your inner self, heading into nature for a retreat is in itself a rite of passage. Something that industrial society has long since lost. I encourage everyone to create a yearly (at least) ritual for themselves of retreating into nature and reflecting on and listening to their soul.

Nature and solitude have been used for ritualistic growth by many societies throughout history. Sometimes our subconscious is screaming at us. But we’re too distracted by our phones, jobs, families, daily problems, and whatever garbage the media and society drum up to tell us we should worry about. Take back your time from them; explore, sit, and listen to yourself. You need it.

"The trip reinforced in me how I want to live my life. It reminded me of coping mechanism and healing tools I had either forgot or was neglecting to use. It hit the reset button on my primal instincts and behaviours… All of modern life distractions were removed, which helped me focus on what's important for mental and physical well-being.”

— Warrior Adventures Alumni

All in all it’s not an easy task. Many of us wander around society like zombie NPC’s hoping for our next break of luck. Apathetic about our plot in life and any thoughts of changing or altering it are too big, too scary, past due, or never gonna happen. But it can, and it must— if you want to live.

It took me years. I was struggling after two decades in a high tempo career in the Canadian military, I was stuck in the belly of the whale. After multiple trips into the wilderness, reading, and talking to friends and my partner— I’ve finally went through my painful rebirth and only now slowly taking my haggard steps back home. I haven’t completed the full circle yet but my why is there. I can see the path. And writing is a part of that journey. I write for myself. I write for my soul.

You can do it too. Where you are in life right now might not be your full story. I encourage you to read, retreat, and then reflect. Understand that these ancient texts and stories were written for us and for our children. Despite all the primitive ways our ancestors lived, they were not primitive in spirit and soul. They knew themselves and they knew us humans and our “one, shape-shifting yet marvellously constant story that we find, together with a challengingly persistent suggestion of more remaining to be experienced than will ever be known or told.”

Further reading:

Deep and in depth: The Hero with a Thousand Faces; Joseph Campbell

Short and light: The Cafe on the Edge of the World; John Strelecky