My Story

In my early twenties, while working in the oil patch near Grande Prairie, I entered more deeply into Catholic life. I went to Mass as often as I could, sometimes almost daily, prayed the rosary, and met with a spiritual director. People at the parish helped give that practice a home. Prayer brought moments of profound joy. Still, I did not understand how those moments might change the habits I carried into ordinary life.

I moved to Tofino partly to surf and to leave northern Alberta behind. Between Tofino and Whistler, outdoor adventures alternated with intense periods of practice. Around 2008–09 in Tofino, I attended Mass several times a week, volunteered with a church community and at a soup kitchen, and spent long hours in prayer. I had little money yet knew deep joy in concentration. Anger and restlessness had not vanished. Later, demanding hospitality work crowded much of that practice out.

In Whistler, yoga became a daily discipline. I practised vinyasa, stronger forms, and yin, and studied Kundalini yoga with a teacher. I was also meditating, praying, reading Yogananda and the Catholic saints, and spending long hours in the mountains. That period taught me that the body is not incidental to spiritual life: breath, movement, and attention alter the conditions of the mind. I cannot assign its most powerful experiences to one practice alone.

A small lesson in waiting

Success in hospitality did not resolve the sense that something was missing. I had pursued mountains, waves, and extraordinary experiences, and each left me wanting another. During a winter in New Zealand I stayed at Bodhinyanarama, a Buddhist forest monastery near Wellington. One day the laundry had another fifteen minutes to run, so I sat down and waited. Nothing needed to be filled. I could rest and be content. That simple moment startled me more than many dramatic experiences.

I remained deeply Catholic, praying the rosary and going to Mass. New Zealand helped me see that I wanted to return to Canada and give more of my life to service. I spent roughly a year with the Franciscan Friars of Western Canada, discerning religious life. I prayed for hours each day, attended Mass, and gave away much of what I owned. Saint Francis’s generosity and the friendships I made there remain dear to me. Yet, as I looked toward the next stage of formation, I could not see in the teaching I encountered the depth of transformation I was seeking. I can also see that I gave too much attention to what felt lacking. I left the order, but not Francis or the questions that brought me there.

Back in Banff, I spent a year hiking and climbed 59 summits. I then lived for close to six months at Birken Forest Monastery in British Columbia, practising in the Thai Forest tradition under Ajahn Sona. Daily meditation deepened my practice. The strictness of monastic life also brought me face to face with cravings and struggles I could not think away. I left that path too.

A life in the world

At Birken I weighed a yoga teacher training trip to Sri Lanka against returning to work. I had been imagining a year-round hospitality role in the Rockies, where service and the mountains could both remain part of my life. Around the time I was ready to book the flight, I was invited to interview for the general manager role at Baker Creek. I got the job. That convergence still fascinates me: desire, effort, timing, and circumstance met in a way I could not have planned.

Later I met my wife, and we chose to have a family. Marriage and fatherhood gave these questions a less sheltered setting. Attention, patience, and the willingness to set aside my own preferences are tested in ordinary days. Modern Jesus: The Antichrist grew from this unfinished inquiry. Its title names the danger of making a Christ we can admire or worship while avoiding the difficult work of following him. I am still asking what it takes for insight to become a way of life.

If these questions speak to you, you are welcome to read along. I send occasional essays and news of the book.