Sami Martin

Author: admin

  • Murphy Riding Shotgun!

    Murphy Riding Shotgun!

    I’ve known about Murphy’s Law most of my adult life. Long before I ever named it, called it out, I felt it. That quiet, familiar sense that when things start to line up in life, something will eventually lean in and knock it all sideways, just to see how we handle it.

    Murphy didn’t arrive suddenly. He was there early on, before I had language for patterns or nervous systems or self-protection. He showed up when I was young enough to think my only real power was withdrawal.

    I was in grade five or six when my parents started talking about divorce. It was always explosive. My mother did not like my dads drinking, he did not like her controlling. Hard adult conversations vibrating through walls, half-heard sentences that carried more weight than they were meant to. I remember being angry. I wanted my school letter. I had worked hard, soccer volleyball choir, librarian. I wanted to stay on my teams, stay inside the rhythm of what I knew. And instead, adults talked, hesitated, changed their minds.

    So I made mine.

    I pulled myself out of everything. Sports. Groups. Anything that required commitment or a future version of me. I didn’t make a scene. I didn’t explain myself. I just quietly disappeared from places where I felt exposed. I don’t think anyone noticed but me.

    At the time it felt like control. Like fairness, almost. If the ground was going to move, I’d move first. Protection from the storm.

    The thing is my parents never divorced. They stayed together until they both passed. I prepared for something that never happened. I lost things I didn’t actually have to lose. And I didn’t understand then that anticipating pain can quietly cost you real experiences, not just imagined ones.

    Water mattered even then. Not pools. Never pools. I stepped on a thumbtack at the YMCA once and that was enough for a lifetime. It was always natural bodies of water. Lakes. Rivers. The ocean when I could finally reach it. Places where sound softened and thoughts slowed. In the water, my body didn’t brace. It just existed.

    Then came the move. From Stroud to Toronto.

    I felt that loss immediately. There was no easing into it. No slow adjustment. It landed hard and stayed. I knew, even then, that I was forever changed. That move cracked something open and started the deepest insecurity I’ve ever known. Everything familiar was gone at once. The town. The identity. The sense of being known without explanation.

    No hockey. No school sports. No structure I understood. I was left without the things I knew how to be inside of. That loss mattered more than I admitted at the time.

    Sam and Dad

    Somewhere in there, I also knew something else about myself. I was queer. I didn’t have the word yet, but I had the knowing. And I knew just as clearly that it wasn’t something I could share. Not there. Not then. So I learned how to compartmentalize early. To hide one truth while trying to survive another.

    I would be nearly 26 when I finally came out. Finally admitted to those who cared who would stand by me or spit in my face. I am not the first and likely not the worst story, but that was a shame I felt before I saw it differently. I still feel a sense of shame around the difference.

    That’s why the rockers made sense to me in high school. Music. The edges. A place where I could stay hidden and still belong. Music let me feel without explaining. It gave me a way to exist without being interrogated. I could disappear into it and still be seen enough. Plus words and music I mean come on. You can vicariously live there. Finf the words to describe feelings you did not know you were having. I found an identity in music.

    When I was eighteen, Murphy made himself known again. Smoking hash at the exhibition. Getting caught. A notice to appear. On paper, it was minor. I even enjoyed the community service. I appreciated the experience. But something settled in after that. The understanding that one moment, one decision, could echo longer than expected. Especially when records, authority, and borders are involved.

    I don’t think it made me vigilant. I don’t experience myself that way. It made me accepting. Accepting that things can go sideways. That life doesn’t always reward intention. That sometimes momentum carries consequences whether you like it or not.

    Then came 2012.

    That was the year Murphy screamed so loud I lost it all.

    Trying to secure a TN1 visa in the U.S., one stark decision upended my life. My apartment in Woodland Hills. A relationship that was just blossoming. A version of myself that felt settled, even if imperfect. Gone. Not slowly. Abruptly. I had a cushion in Toronto., its always going to be where I am from. I could land there. But Los Angeles was gone. The life I had built there vanished in a way that didn’t feel proportional to the moment that triggered it.

    I didn’t dramatize it, but I don’t minimize it either. That kind of loss doesn’t come with a clean ending. There’s no neat chapter break. It doesn’t wrap itself up in meaning right away. It just changes the direction of your life and asks you to keep moving, even when you’re not ready, even when part of you is still standing in the doorway of what you thought you had.

    That experience taught me something dangerous. That stability can disappear without warning. That preparation might be the only leverage you have. Or so I told myself.

    And still, water kept pulling me forward. Natural water. Beaches. The ocean whenever I could reach it. In the water, I wasn’t replaying decisions or scanning for what might go wrong. I was just breathing. Floating. Letting the noise settle. I didn’t know it then, but that was regulation. That was my nervous system finding neutral. It is there I discovered Mexico and Isla Mujeres.

    Which is why I’m writing this now.

    I’m in Mexico, working toward permanent residency, and the process stirred something familiar. Not panic. Recognition, and potential preparation. The last two years haven’t been easy. Not because everything has gone wrong, but because I haven’t always felt connected to life in meaningful ways. I cocooned. Built protection around myself. Avoided instead of engaging. Blocked things out until they hit hard enough that I couldn’t anymore.

    I followed the steps. I did what I could. And still that old sense crept in. The feeling that if something can wobble, it will. Not because I expect failure, but because experience taught me not to be surprised by it.

    This is where I had to stop and ask myself something uncomfortable.

    Why do I catalogue disasters but gloss over proof that things can — and do — work out?

    I have evidence. Real evidence. Not motivational quotes. Lived proof.

    Temporary residency here went through with barely a ripple. Minor hiccups. Human moments. Nothing catastrophic. No doors slammed shut. And yet my mind barely archived it. It didn’t linger. It didn’t soften the story I default to when I assess risk.

    Why does my brain highlight the moments that broke me and fast-forward past the ones that carried me?

    I’ve always flown by the seat of my pants. And honestly, I’ve had an incredible life. I’ve seen and done things I never imagined I would. I’ve moved cities, countries, identities, careers. I learned to move forward even when I was terrified, trusting that momentum itself might carry me somewhere solid.

    I remember landing in Los Angeles with no housing lined up. Incorrectly booked flights. Delays. Nowhere to go. Murphy in full form. And then — people. Someone opening their door. Someone saying, “You’ll be okay. Stay here tonight.” A hotel. A room. A life slowly assembling itself out of chaos.

    Those moments didn’t just save logistics. They saved me.

    They matter. They deserve as much weight as the ones that broke me.

    So here it is, without irony or deflection. Thank you.

    To the people who stepped in when I was untethered.

    To the ones who offered help without explanation or expectation.

    To the friendships and connections that came from chaos instead of despite it.

    I wouldn’t be here without you. And I don’t forget that, even when fear tries to rewrite the story.

    I found my groove in LA. A social side of myself I didn’t know how much I needed. Sunday fundays. A tribe. I was home there in a way I didn’t recognize until it was gone. Losing it felt like being cheated, not just out of a place, but out of a version of myself that trusted life more than I do now.

    Work was always there. For most of my career, I could find it wherever I landed. I built something portable. Remote before it was normal. Capable. Independent. I learned I could rely on myself. That I always had myself.

    But time changes the rules. This isn’t twenty years ago. And somewhere in that shift, my confidence softened. Still there, but quieter. More reflective. Less certain.

    I don’t know what I tie my worth to anymore. I know I have a good heart. I believe in equality. I try to support people when their hearts are good, even if I don’t fully understand their path. I’ve created Sam and lost Sam more times than I can count.

    In relationships, I lose myself. I want to be who they see. I forget they liked who I was when we met. I want people to be happy. I want to be liked. And somewhere in that effort, I disappear.

    Being left feels like rejection. Being fully seen feels terrifying too. Both live in me.

    Mexico gives me something nowhere else does. Proximity to marine life. To the ocean. It excites and intrigues me as much as it scares me. Seeing it gives me genuine pleasure. And still, somehow, I took it from myself by pulling away.

    I stopped early swims. Long walks. Headphones and salt water. Paddleboarding. I isolated myself. I don’t have a good excuse. I miss it. And I know that’s where I center myself emotionally. It always has been.

    There’s also my body in all of this, and I haven’t talked about that enough yet.

    I’m not young anymore, and I don’t say that with bitterness. I say it with awareness. My body holds history now. Injuries. Fatigue. Recovery that takes longer than it used to. But it also holds memory — ocean memory, balance memory, the knowing of how to float and how to read water without fighting it.

    When I stopped going into the ocean regularly, something in me dulled. It happened slowly. Fewer early mornings. More staying in. More isolation disguised as rest. I told myself I was protecting my energy, but what I was really doing was disconnecting from the one place that reliably brought me back to myself.

    Safety and aliveness are not the same thing.

    The ocean has never asked me to perform. It doesn’t care about my past decisions, my paperwork, my income, or my productivity. It responds to presence. To attention. To respect.

    That’s the relationship I want with the rest of my life now.

    There’s a feeling I’ve carried for years. Hands steady. Eyes forward. Knowing you can’t control the road but refusing to let go of the wheel. And another feeling just as real that says not every moment requires bracing. Sometimes you ride what comes. Sometimes you stop fighting the current and let it move through you.

    Those two states live side by side in me. They always have.

    Residency is pending now. Paperwork. Timelines. Decisions that exist outside my control. In the past, this is where my mind would start running scenarios. If this happens, then that. If that falls through, then I lose everything. The sky is always falling somewhere in those versions of the future.

    But this time feels different.

    I’m not pretending nothing could go wrong. That wouldn’t be honest. What’s different is that I’m not assigning catastrophe to uncertainty anymore. I’ve done the work. I’ve shown up. I’ve followed the steps. I’ve been honest, consistent, and clear about what I want and how I live.

    If this works — and I believe it will — Baja feels like the next natural shoreline.

    Not an escape. Not a reset. A continuation.

    Two oceans. Completely different energies. Marine mammals moving through ancient routes that have nothing to do with me. Mornings dictated by tide and light instead of screens and schedules. Learning to surf properly, not to conquer anything, just to understand timing and patience. Paddleboarding when the water allows it. Letting my body get stronger without forcing it.

    I see myself documenting instead of chasing. Observing instead of consuming. Living close enough to the water that I don’t forget who I am when I’m away from it too long. Earning through work that feels aligned — creative projects, clients I actually connect with, content that respects the places it comes from. Less noise. Less proving. More continuity.

    And if it doesn’t work — if Murphy clears his throat and reminds me that nothing is guaranteed — then what?

    Then I adapt.

    I don’t disappear. I don’t lose myself. I don’t start from zero. I adjust course and land somewhere that still makes sense for who I am now, not who I was twenty years ago. I’ve done it before, even when I didn’t believe I could. Even when I thought I’d lost everything.

    That’s the truth Murphy can’t rewrite.

    I’m not asking for a life without disruption. I’m asking for a life where disruption doesn’t erase me. Where change doesn’t mean collapse. Where uncertainty doesn’t automatically translate into loss.

    Water taught me that.

    You don’t fight it. You read it. You move with it. You trust that staying present matters more than predicting the next wave.

    That’s where I am now.

    Pending residency. Pending future. Grounded anyway.

    Murphy can still ride shotgun if he wants.He wont be narrating any longer. And that feels like freedom!

  • Island Life Without a Tribe

    Island Life Without a Tribe

    The Emptiness of Not Connecting

    There’s a kind of isolation that doesn’t come from being alone — it comes from being somewhere you chose, living a life you worked for, and still feeling like you’re standing just outside the firelight.

    It’s not dramatic. It’s not cinematic. It’s quieter, heavier, more personal.

    It’s waking up in paradise and wondering why your soul feels like it’s sitting one seat away from the table.

    The sun hits the ocean right. Salt on skin feels familiar. The wind carries laughter, engines, music from passing golf carts. Life here is alive.

    And yet there’s a part of me hovering — almost like my spirit hasn’t fully landed where my body is.

    That’s where I am.

    I’m on a Caribbean island. Warm water, trade winds, sunsets most people would pay to see once in their life. A place that should be connection-rich, community-forward, magnetic and alive.

    And I’m grateful — I truly am. I know beauty when I see it. I know privilege when I live it. Yet here I am… feeling more disconnected than I ever have.

    Not lonely because I don’t like people. Not isolated because I shut myself off. But because somewhere along the road — I stopped fitting into the world the way I used to. It feels like nobody wants to be my friend.

    There’s no moment I can point to. No dramatic pivot. No big loss of identity. It was slower — subtle — like erosion. Like the tide pulling sand from underfoot until the earth beneath you changes shape.

    And the truth is, I don’t know when that happened. But I feel it every single day — in my heart, in my soul.

    I Chose This Distance — and It Still Surprises Me

    The truth is, I’m not a victim of circumstance here. I chose this life.

    I left my tribe — not because I didn’t love them, not because I didn’t want their companionship, but because adventure felt necessary. Growth felt necessary. Freedom called louder than familiarity ever did. From an early age.

    First Toronto to LA. Then LA back to Canada. Then here to Isla.

    Each move a leap. Each chapter a reinvention. Each goodbye a little tear in the fabric, even if I didn’t feel it fully at the time.

    Some relationships held — the lifers, the ones who know my layers. Shannon, Renee, Gina, Shann and Erica.

    Some became friendly digital echoes — Facebook updates and “miss you” messages that keep history alive without ever touching the present.

    And others stayed behind in memory… chapters closed, not bitter, just finished. Life’s just foolish like that.

    I’ve slowly realized that choosing a bigger life sometimes means choosing solitude as well.

    And for the most part, I’ve embraced that and sought out new tribe mates. I like being different. I like that I built my world on my terms.

    But this loneliness? This quiet? This sense of being emotionally unmoored? This territory feels new — and I won’t pretend it doesn’t sting.

    Coming back to Isla after COVID, after the isolation of Toronto’s lockdown still stuck to my bones — heartache imminent on the horizon and grief in my pockets —

    I wanted to fall back into something familiar here. To reconnect with the spark I once felt on this island. Maybe even save the relationship.

    But life doesn’t rewind just because we remember the past fondly. People change. Places shift. Energies evolve.

    Maybe the version of me who fit here before belonged to a world that doesn’t exist anymore — not on this island, and not inside me. Though I clung to it.

    And so I’m learning what it means to choose solitude, only to realise solitude chose me right back.

    That’s the part no one warns you about — that even intention has consequences. Even courage can echo.

    Isolation That Doesn’t Ask Permission

    This wasn’t chosen solitude. I wasn’t seeking stillness. I wasn’t craving quiet. I needed something different — and yet here it is.

    It isn’t dramatic. It isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t feel like the “hero wandering alone” trope.

    It feels like waking up and thinking, I used to know where I fit. I used to feel tethered. What changed?

    It feels like trying — really trying — to connect and realizing intention doesn’t always equal connection.

    It feels like being seen, but not met. A gentle ache, not a wound. An awareness, not despair. A pause, not a collapse. But real nonetheless.

    There’s a humility in admitting that. A soft surrender. Not to defeat — but to truth.

    A Storm No One Saw

    People talk about COVID like a logistics event. Masks. Travel rules. Supply chains. But the real pandemic happened inside people — in the fault lines we didn’t know existed.

    During those early months, my relationship unraveled slowly — not with explosions, but with quiet erosion. A year of dissolving, piece by piece, understanding that love doesn’t always equal longevity.

    There was pain, yes, but also truth in letting go. She never loved me, never wanted our connection — our friendship — the relationship I felt in my heart.

    And then — in the middle of that emotional exhaustion — my brother passed away.

    Not a distant loss. Not a chapter you can close politely. A loss that leaves you feeling more alone despite the complicated lack of knowing each other deeply.

    I carried those losses into everything that came next. Living here, what I wanted for my life, and how my heart shut down.

    There is a version of grief where you don’t collapse — you keep moving because stillness is too sharp.

    You build. You distract. You plan. You try to outpace the ache. Grief waits. It always does.

    And when borders opened and flights resumed and I stepped back onto Isla, I didn’t just arrive with luggage —

    I arrived with heartbreak and absence stitched into my bones. I thought the ocean would hold me. I thought sunlight could knit me back together. I thought the place that once felt right would feel right again. I thought I’d find her again and she would save me.

    I was wrong.

    Grief doesn’t obey geography. And belonging doesn’t always come back just because we remember it fondly.

    Some pain follows you. Some lessons unpack slowly.

    Some seasons don’t end where you expect them to.

    The Return That Didn’t Click

    I expected to reconnect with the rhythm I once had here. To fall back into easy friendships, new creative energy, conversations that felt like possibility.

    Instead, I walked back into a familiar room where all the furniture had been moved. Same walls, same sky, same ocean. Different frequency….

    The island didn’t reject me. But it didn’t catch me either.

    There’s a particular ache in being somewhere beautiful and feeling a step removed from it. Not ungrateful — just unanchored. Not unhappy — just unheld.

    I tried. I showed up. I invited, reached out, joined in, stepped forward.

    I didn’t hide. I didn’t isolate. Connection just… didn’t land. The energy that once found me here didn’t recognize me this time. Or maybe I didn’t recognize myself enough to be found.

    Sometimes we outgrow spaces before we realize we’ve evolved.

    The Work Is Still Here, Even If the Noise Isn’t

    Here’s the thing — I haven’t stopped working. I won’t. I’ve just shifted focus.

    I’m building: ShiverMedia. Salty Blue. My personal brand. Projects. Templates. Content. Helping Tammy build her platform. Client work when it comes. New systems. New strategies.

    Foundation work. Deep work. Work people don’t see until it blooms. I don’t resist effort. Effort built me. Discipline never intimidated me — silence does.

    Because work fills time, but connection fuels spirit. And right now, the work is happening — but the world around it feels thin. That’s not failure. That’s… in-between.

    The season where seeds grow roots before they break the surface. The quiet phase. The internal muscle building before momentum arrives.

    Distance in Love, Distance in Life

    Two years ago, I met Tammy, from Indiana, travels regularly to a Isla. Tammy live currently in Vegas.

    Life placed her there — responsibility, family, health, timing. Not conflict — circumstance. Loss. Duty.

    We are solid. We are committed. We are building in parallel. But distance changes the sound of days.

    When your life already feels a bit unanchored, being physically apart from the person who sees you most clearly sharpens the quiet.

    Love holds. But distance leaves room. And the room echoes.Not doubt — just longing. Stretched across time, flight routes, and ocean. I don’t resent it. I just feel it.

    Maybe this island was meant to be a sacred pause — a place to grieve, to shed, to face truth, and then to launch toward the next horizon.

    Sometimes stillness is not stagnation — it’s alignment gathering strength.

    When Solitude Stops Feeling Like Strength

    I’m good alone — Solo Sam, always have been. I don’t need crowds or chaos or constant stimulation. I don’t chase noise.

    But this isn’t chosen quiet — it’s quiet that lingers even when I reach for connection.

    I’ve tried here. I’ve opened doors. I’ve said yes when I didn’t feel like it. I’ve shown up.

    Yet connection… floats. Conversation lands politely but not deeply. People are kind; sometimes they feel performative — but ultimately, the fit simply isn’t here.

    It’s like tuning a radio station that’s a half-second off the rhythm of your heartbeat.

    And acknowledging that stings as much as it steadies me.

    It’s not that I can’t belong. It’s that I won’t force belonging where resonance doesn’t live.

    When Life Isn’t Aligned, It Lets You Know

    I’ve lived long enough to know this: When I’m not on the right path, life resists. Not violently. Not as punishment. Just subtly, steadily — slightly off-axis.

    Momentum stalls. Opportunities slip by. Energy drains. Even small tasks feel uphill.

    Confidence flickers in ways it never did before.

    That’s where I am — not broken, just out of sync with the life that fits me best.

    This isn’t weakness. It’s awareness. 

    I am not fully where I’m meant to be — yet.

    And when I’m off-path, I feel it in my bones. The world becomes friction instead of flow.

    That’s why the search for work has been harder — not because I don’t have value or skill or drive, but because the right fit hasn’t appeared. I refuse to contort myself into misalignment just to ease discomfort.

    Same with love.

    No doubt, no regret — just the ache of knowing we belong together, just not like this, not here, not yet.

    We aren’t broken.

    We’re waiting for the right door to open — and building until it does.

    I don’t force belonging — not in geography, not in career, not in love.

    Out of sorts doesn’t mean off track — it means recalibrating.

    This season isn’t collapse.

    It’s compass-work.

    The uncomfortable clarity that comes before the shift.

    And when truth arrives, I don’t ignore it — I move.

    Quiet Resolve

    This isn’t a goodbye letter to the island. Though I am seeking other destinations, there is no resentment or regret. Just truth.

    I expected belonging. Instead, I found introspection. TAnd maybe that’s exactly what this chapter needed to be.

    I’m here. I’m breathing ocean air. I’m working. I’m healing. I’m relearning myself after grief, disruption, and loss.

    And when the tide turns — whether here or elsewhere — I’ll move with it.

    Not out of desperation, but alignment.

    Because I trust myself. I trust the seasons. I trust truth. And I trust the ocean enough to know: the tide always returns something.

    Until then — I will stand where I am, grounded and honest, eyes on the horizon, heart open, work steady, and spirit intact.

    Trust in the tide while I find my bearings and my tribe.

  • Hate is an Ugly Thing

    Hate is an Ugly Thing

    By Someone Who’s Had Enough of It

    I. The Ugliness of Hate

    Hate isn’t just loud. It’s corrosive. It latches on to the fearful, the insecure, the lazy-minded, and festers until it becomes part of their identity. It’s not born out of righteousness. It’s born out of weakness—a desperate scramble for superiority in a world where their relevance feels threatened.

    I’ve experienced hate as a gender queer member of the LGBTQ+ community. Not for anything I’ve done, but for who I am. For existing outside of someone else’s fragile definition of “normal.” This is not a sob story. It’s a statement of fact. Sadly, Im not the only one and it’s far from the first or the last time.

    hate is ugly

    This time, the hate has a face. A name. A social media account. A man clinging to his bitterness like a shield, lobbing lies and slurs my way to make sense of his own failure as a human being.

    But zoom out—and you see this isn’t about him. It’s about the world we’ve built that lets people like him thrive. Loud, hateful people are getting elected, applauded, and platformed. And while they rant about morals and freedom, they actively work to dismantle both while dehumanizing those they hate so much.

    II. One Example in a Long Line

    The man I’m referencing doesn’t know me. He never has. We’ve never shared a meal, never had a conversation, never exchanged anything real. Never met! And yet, I’ve become a character in his personal fiction—a villain that helps explain why his life isn’t where he wants it to be.

    He throws slurs at my identity, my appearance, my ethics—none of which he understands. None of which are any of his business. What little he does know is filtered through the lens of resentment and ego. His narrative isn’t truth; it’s a weapon.

    This isn’t the first time I’ve been someone else’s scapegoat. When you live openly, unapologetically—gender queer, tattooed, liberal, independent—you become a target. That’s the truth. The more visible you are, the more vulnerable you are to people who hate what they don’t understand.

    III. Hate Isn’t New—But It’s Louder Now

    There’s something different about today’s hate, though. It’s louder. Bolder. Less ashamed. Once whispered in private, it’s now screamed on social media, into school boards, at Pride parades, and through legislation.

    We live in a time where truth is optional, but outrage is mandatory.

    People with no real education or experience in public policy are getting elected because they’re “angry like us.” They don’t campaign on solutions. They campaign on enemies. And people cheer.

    Once “We the People” meant collective responsibility. Now it’s devolved into “Me the Electee”—a new breed of politician that governs with revenge, not representation. They’re not civil servants. They’re petty kings, ruling over social media empires and local town halls with cruelty disguised as conviction.

    IV. When Hate Is on the Ballot

    When people vote based on who they hate rather than who they hope for, democracy suffers. We see it in the banning of books, the rollback of rights, the silencing of teachers, journalists, doctors and the way the media clings to views/sensationalism. We see it in states where healthcare is denied based on gender identity, where protesting is criminalized but bigotry is cheered

    We see it when grown adults obsess over children’s chosen pronouns but ignore their access to food or safety. When political campaigns run on ignoring climate change, demonizing immigrants, queer kids, and public workers while handing tax cuts to corporations that underpay/outsorce workers.

    Hate isn’t just ugly. It’s policy now.

    who is on the ballot

    And the architects of that hate—men like the one attacking me—don’t feel shame. They feel empowered. Because we’ve stopped rewarding empathy and started electing resentment. The problem lies with the voter. They can chose or not chose hate.

    V. The Cost of Being Different

    To be different in this world is to be seen as a threat. Not because you are—but because your existence forces others to confront their smallness.

    When you are queer, or Black, or trans, or immigrant, or poor, or follow a different spititual belief—or any combination of the above—your body becomes a battleground for someone else’s insecurities.

    You get questioned, policed, misgendered, harassed, fired, in some instances, even killed—not for doing something wrong, but for being “other.”

    I’ve lived it. I’ve felt the subtle slights and the blatant insults. I’ve been the target of online comments and whispered rumors. I’ve had my work dismissed, my character attacked, my humanity debated.

    And yet, I’m still here. Still creating. Still loving. Still building something real. Because I and all others who are the targets of hate, we have the exact same rights as you. We are all equal.

    VI. A Culture of Excuses

    The man harassing me isn’t alone. He’s just one of many. A symptom, not the disease.

    We’ve created a culture where people are more comfortable excusing their failures by blaming others than owning their choices. It’s easier to say “the world’s gone woke” than it is to say “I didn’t do the work.” It’s easier to blame immigrants than to ask why healthcare is so expensive. Easier to scapegoat trans kids than to admit the education system is underfunded.

    The lie is easier than the truth when the truth requires effort.

    And so people fall into tribes. MAGA hats become armour. Conspiracy theories become gospel. And empathy? Empathy becomes weakness.

    But here’s the thing—“woke” is not the insult they think it is. If being woke means being aware that injustice exists and caring enough to want it to change, why is that bad? Since when did paying attention to suffering become something to sneer at? Isn’t the whole point of community—of humanity—to look out for each other?

    The same people throwing “woke” around as a slur often claim to be good Christians. Yet wasn’t it Jesus who said, love thy neighbour? Who taught compassion, humility, and kindness as cornerstones of faith? How does mocking the vulnerable, cutting social programs, or demonizing entire groups of people fit with treat others as you wish to be treated?

    The hypocrisy is staggering. Helping others isn’t weakness; it’s strength. Empathy isn’t some liberal agenda—it’s supposed to be a human instinct. But somewhere along the way, caring got rebranded as weakness, and cruelty got mistaken for honesty.

    And that’s the real sickness. Not just the hate, but the pride people take in wearing it like a badge.

    VII. The Quiet Resistance

    Gratefully, for all the noise, the hate, the lies—there are still people quietly building a better world.

    resistance

    Teachers who risk their jobs to support LGBTQ+ kids. Nurses who care for every patient regardless of politics. Artists, creators, organizers, thinkers—those who refuse to let cruelty define us.

    And it’s not just individuals working in quiet corners. There are entire movements and leaders dedicating their lives to pushing back against hate.

    • The Southern Poverty Law Center (splcenter.org) tracks and exposes hate groups while advocating for civil rights across the U.S.
    • The Trevor Project (thetrevorproject.org) provides crisis support and suicide prevention for LGBTQ+ youth, often becoming literally life-saving.
    • The Human Rights Campaign (hrc.org) fights discriminatory legislation and pushes for equality in workplaces, schools, and communities.

    In Canada:

    • Egale Canada (egale.ca) works globally and nationally to improve lives of LGBTQI2S people, running initiatives like youth shelters, legal challenges against harmful policies, and school education programs 
    • Canadian Anti-Hate Network (antihate.ca) monitors hate and far‑right groups, provides resources to law enforcement and media, and is rated high for factual reporting and credibility  .

    Public figures choosing integrity over applause:

    • Vice President Kamala Harris (kamalaharris.org) uses her platform to defend voting rights, reproductive rights, and marginalized communities—often at personal political risk.
    • Rachel Maddow (msnbc.com/rachel-maddow-show) pursues fact-based journalism, resisting division-driven media trends.
    • Jagmeet Singh (ndp.ca/jagmeet), leader of Canada’s NDP, speaks out against racism, Islamophobia, and inequality.
    • Geraldine Charette, co-founder of Black Lives Matter Toronto, advocates for systemic reform and racial justice.

    These organizations and leaders are firmly committed to equality, justice, and inclusion. They operate transparently, have strong public track records, and are focused on broad human rights—not narrow causes or divisive rhetoric. No credible ties to extremist or nefarious agendas were found in reliable sources during vetting.

    We don’t always make headlines. We don’t always win. But we endure. We stay human in a world that begs us to dehumanize each other.

    We choose facts over fiction. Connection over chaos. Truth over tribalism.

    Because the alternative—the one chosen by those who fuel hate—is nothing but rot. Choosing to attack, demean, and devalue others doesn’t just show ugliness; it spreads it. It poisons communities, erodes trust, and leaves nothing but bitterness in its wake. Every time someone spits a slur instead of offering understanding, every time they lash out instead of listening, they are part of the very thing they claim to despise.

    So yes, we choose to live fully, even when others try to reduce us to a slur. Because to do otherwise would be to let them win. And the world is still full of people willing to fight for better, even if they don’t always shout about it.

    VIII. A Final Word to the Haters

    To the man who thinks his words will break me: they won’t. Others before have tried and failed.

    To the system that rewards cruelty: I see you. We all see you.

    To anyone reading this and nodding in silence because you, too, have been targeted just for existing—I’m with you. May others are with you. Stand strong. Hate cant win.

    And to those who keep showing up, who fight for equality, peace, and love when it would be easier to stay quiet—I stand with you. To the teachers who protect every child, no matter who they are. To the nurses who treat everyone with dignity. To the activists who march, the lawyers who defend, the journalists who tell the truth, and the neighbours who simply choose kindness—you are proof that humanity isn’t lost.

    This isn’t about being the bigger person. It’s about being the real one. The whole one. The one who doesn’t need to invent enemies to feel valid.

    I’m not a victim. I’m a mirror. And what you see in me that you hate—that’s your own reflection, not mine.

    You can lie, scream, and posture all you want. However, HATE IS AN UGLY THING. And no matter how loudly you wear it, it will never make you beautiful.

    Here’s to everyone who refuses to wear it at all. Here’s to those who keep choosing empathy, truth, and love even when it’s hard. You are the future, and you are what’s worth fighting for.

    Sources

    ✅ Egale Canada
    • Canada’s leading 2SLGBTQI advocacy group, involved in research, legal challenges, education, and supporting LGBTQ+ youth safety—recently pulled participation from U.S. events due to anti-trans policies  .
    • Recognized by Charity Intelligence Canada; while spending transparency is rated average, their scope and longevity affirm legitimacy  .
    ✅ Canadian Anti‑Hate Network
    • Founded in 2018, non-partisan, antifascist nonprofit; surveys and reports on hate groups, supports law enforcement and educators  .
    • Rated “High” for factual reporting, no failed fact checks in 5 years  .
    ✅ Jagmeet Singh
     — Leader of Canada’s NDP
    • Globally recognized for confronting racism and Islamophobia; called Canada’s recent London, ON attack “our Canada” and proclaimed “We don’t need that kind of racism in Canada”  .
    • Announced federal NDP plans to combat hate and increase measures against Islamophobia and racism  .
    ✅ Geraldine Charette, BLM Toronto
    • Co-founded Black Lives Matter Toronto; long-standing advocacy for systemic reform and racial justice in Canada (I couldn’t find a direct media profile, but her public work as illustrator and activist confirms her credibility) ().
  • This Isn’t How I Thought It Would Be

    This Isn’t How I Thought It Would Be

    This isn’t the version of my life I imagined I’d be writing about.

    Not at this age. Not after everything I’ve learned, everything I’ve done.

    But here we are—at the backline of midlife, neck-deep in a career pivot with a wallet that’s lighter than it should be, a heart still full of fire, and a head that won’t stop asking:

    “Why the hell is this so hard?”

    Let’s just call it what it is: rebuilding a life, a career, a lifetime of experience—after spending years doing work that I was good at but not always proud of—is complicated.

    I’m not new to this game. I’ve helped companies rake in more than six figures a day. I’ve built email programs that converted cold leads into memberships faster than most people could write a subject line. I’ve seen the inside of success. I’ve tasted it. I’ve run with it.

    And I’ve also attempted to walk away from it. Always returning for the ALMIGHTY DOLLAR

    The Industry I Left Behind

    Here’s the truth, and I’m not here to sugar-coat it:

    I built my skill set, developed my experience in the online adult industry at one of the companiesthat pioneered affiliate marketing programs and online processing for credit cards. I was behind the screen—running marketing and affiliate programs, dialing in email sequences, and making numbers move.

    I made my name with a product called Psychicrealm—over 30 paid conversions a day from cold traffic. That landed me the opportunity to take over Naughty Mail, an email product the company had just bought. That’s where I really learned the craft—building high-volume, high-conversion email systems that made $150k a month for one product alone.

    I’m proud of the work I did, but not proud of the industry I did it in. That tension sat in my gut for years. I knew I had the skills. I just didn’t want to keep using them for someone else’s bottom line—especially when the product wasn’t something I could stand behind.

    The Pull to Do Something of My Own

    That’s been the throughline for years.
    That ache to build something real. Something mine.

    And if I’m honest, the first time I really followed that pull was when I started a project called Sliding Glass.

    SlidingGlass.com

    I didn’t know what I was doing technically—I just grabbed a camera and went. I shot surf, I shot wakeboarding, I followed my instincts. I’m a water sports junky and a rock and roll junky, and that project brought both together in a way that made me feel completely alive.

    The content I created. The relationships I built.
    That was mine. And I was so damn proud of it.

    Sliding Glass was a moment of clarity—proof that I could build something I believed in. That I could tell stories that mattered to me. That I didn’t need anyone’s permission to just start.

    The Moment I Almost Jumped—and Didn’t

    In January 2023, I was in Playa del Carmen. I’d just been let go—three months earlier than planned. It should have been the moment I went all in.

    I took a trip to El Cuyo, sat with it all, and knew I had the means to make the leap.

    And then I didn’t.

    Not fully. I told myself I would. But instead, I floated. I enjoyed the freedom. Maybe a little too much.

    But that moment planted something. And slowly, it grew into what I’m building now.

    Building Something Real (Across Three Brands)

    I didn’t just want ShiverMedia, the agency.
    I realized I’ve always needed more than just a single lane.

    So I started building three distinct spaces:
    • ShiverMedia – digital marketing and design, grounded in strategy and storytelling for small businesses
    • SamiMartin – personal brand: stories, wellness, growth, midlife pivots in the backline, and saltwater truths
    • Salty Blue Mexico – documenting ocean adventures, reef conservation, travel stories rooted in place and purpose

    These brands let me bring all of me to the table—creative, strategic, personal, and passionate. Each one fuels the work I actually want to do. Not just for income, but for impact.

    What I’m Doing Now (And What Lights Me Up)

    These days, I’m offering what I know how to do best:
    • Brand development and logo design
    • Email marketing and lifecycle campaigns
    • Social media strategy and content planning
    • Real estate photo and video here on the island
    • Teaching tools and digital downloads
    • AI prompting and visual content creation—because I’ve always stayed ahead of the tech

    And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m doing work that matters.

    The Puerta al Cielo shoot? Climbing up to shoot a rooftop trampoline install? That’s the stuff I live for.
    Planning and executing the Izla Hotel content strategy? Right in my flow.
    Branding work and storytelling with Turquoise Tides Travel? Deeply fulfilling.

    Even covering the Island Time Music Festival felt like everything I care about—music, visuals, storytelling—colliding in the best way.

    This is the kind of work that makes me feel useful. Grounded. Alive.

    The Brutal Truth: The Money Sucks Right Now

    Let’s be real. I’m in debt.
    One of my anchor clients is on pause.
    I’m living gig to gig, holding my breath, and hoping the tide shifts soon.

    And still—I’ve never been clearer about what I’m here to do.

    I’m grateful for the people who have shown up for me. The ones who’ve reminded me that support doesn’t always come with fanfare—it just shows up.

    Because yeah, it’s hard.
    But I’m not lost.
    I’m just rebuilding slower, with more intention.

    What Giving Up Would Look Like—and Why I’m Not

    There are moments I think about quitting.

    Getting a job that pays just to get out of debt.
    Leaving Mexico.
    Starting over again.

    But quitting has never meant rest to me—it’s always meant regret.
    And I’m not ready to trade my dreams for someone else’s routine.

    I don’t want to be the person who walked away right before it all clicked.
    I’ve done that before.
    I’m not doing it again.

    What Semi-Retirement Looks Like to Me

    I’m not trying to buy a house in the suburbs.
    I’m not chasing six figures for bragging rights.

    Semi-retirement, to me, means this:
    • I’ve paid off the debt
    • I’ve got consistent income from what I’ve built
    • I’m able to travel when I want
    • I’m living in beach towns, working from my laptop
    • I’m documenting surf, reef life, and salty living
    • I’ve got a partner who rides alongside me
    • I feel healthy, strong, free—and finally me

    That’s the plan. And I know it’s possible.

    Success has never been a corner office.
    It’s only ever been a means to an end.

    What Success Looks Like Now

    Success is:
    • Creating with heart
    • Earning from my skills without selling out
    • Supporting myself while doing work I believe in
    • Teaching, mentoring, telling stories that matter
    • Contributing, not just consuming
    • Feeling proud of what I leave behind

    It’s not about the numbers.
    It’s about the alignment.

    backline of midlife success

    ⸻

    Final Word: The Tide Is Turning

    I don’t have it all figured out.
    But I’m still in the water.
    Still paddling.
    Still chasing the set I know is coming.

    This isn’t how I thought it would be.
    But maybe this is the version I needed all along.
    Not polished. Not easy.
    But mine.

  • Starting From Here

    Starting From Here

    The Backline of Midlife

    Some beginnings don’t come with fireworks.
    No declarations.
    No big reveal.

    Just the quiet drag of a box across the floor, the hum of a fan in a new space, and the kind of silence that finally feels like possibility instead of loss.

    This is where I’m starting from.

    Starting From Here

    The Year That Broke Me a Bit

    I spent the last year feeling like I was on the outside of my own life, watching it from somewhere slightly removed.
    Work dried up. Not all at once, but enough to make me question everything I’d built. I’ve always made it work—pieced things together, freelanced, created—but this time was different. The financial stress cracked open everything else: my health, my mindset, my ability to keep pretending I was okay.

    My body followed.
    Weight gain—again.Ive talked about the roller coaster. Its exhausting and my fault.
    Knees giving out. I should have listened to Dr Armstrong so many moons ago. Hockey was hard on my knees.
    Stomach wrecked. Tammy says it’s likely IBS… I just want it to stop
    Eyes are deteriorating, especially the left one with BRVO, like my body was trying to say what I wouldn’t admit: something has to change..

    Backline of Midlife

    This isn’t some victim arc.
    I’ve had incredible accomplishments.
    Graduated in graphic design and advertising back when it meant sketch pads, markers, typesetting by hand.
    I cut my teeth in the early days of the internet—when websites were built line by line, when communities were carved out in forums and chatrooms, before social media ruled the world.

    Payment processing, digital communities, early social platforms, media creation—been there, built that.
    I’ve worked with big clients, hungry startups, small dreamers chasing something real.
    Earned my stripes in the digital trenches when it wasn’t glamorous, just necessary.

    But even with all that under my belt, I’ve often coward in the presence of my own fears.
    I let perfectionism box me in.
    I let pain pull me sideways.
    I let plain old panic shut down the bigger parts of me that wanted to show up in the world.

    Now, at the backline of midlife, I feel the edges of time pressing in.
    Not crushing, but undeniable.
    There are fewer chances left to squander, and I don’t want to waste another one.
    It’s time I got the most from my life.
    Starting from here.

    Leaving the Old Life (and the Old Me)

    I left a senior marketing role in 2015—interim director of marketing, with the steady paycheck, the corporate ladder stretched out before me like a conveyor belt to retirement. I could see exactly where it was all going.
    And I didn’t want any part of it.

    I wanted sun on my skin, salt in my hair, dirt under my nails from building something of my own.
    Not just marketing other people’s stories—but living mine.

    I wasn’t new to travel. I had seen pieces of the world already—London, Amsterdam, Scotland, Mexico.
    Everywhere I went, something stirred.
    A deep, stubborn longing for more.

    When I was in my teens, I dreamed of moving to a small beach town in Mexico.
    I pictured it vividly: a little cabin steps from the ocean, days spent surfing, swimming at dawn, shaping sculptures and creating art under the slow spin of a ceiling fan.
    No internet. No emails. No urgency.
    Just life, raw and real.

    Of course, life doesn’t bend so easily.
    We need money.
    We need structure.
    We get pulled into jobs, into deadlines, into expectations.

    But that dream never really left me.
    And in 2015, when I landed in Isla Mujeres, it felt like maybe, finally, I could build something close to it.

    I thought Isla would be my hub.
    A place to launch more adventures, to travel, to explore, to live light and free.

    But it wasn’t meant to be.
    Life had other plans.

    I fell into a relationship.
    Six years deep, and complicated in every direction.

    It ended in late 2021, maybe early 2022, though honestly, endings like that don’t stick neatly to a calendar.

    The healing wasn’t clean either.
    The loss wasn’t just about someone else—it was the loss of a part of myself I had finally found.

    During those years, I had glimpsed a version of me that was more real than I had ever known.
    I believed in myself, in what I could create, in what I deserved.
    I saw my own strength in ways I never had before.
    When it ended, I didn’t just grieve the relationship—I grieved the clarity it had given me.

    At first, I tried to merge what I had found with who I had always been.
    It was messy, hopeful work.
    I lost nearly 50 pounds.
    I trained, hard.
    I moved my body with purpose again.
    I dug deep.

    I was starting to find a groove—a rhythm that felt like mine.

    a vusion of mt desk

    And then, mid-2023, I met Tammy.
    The woman I share my life with now.

    Tammy didn’t fix anything.
    She didn’t rescue me.
    She simply saw me—fully—and gave me room to stand in my own skin again.
    Flawed, creative, saltwater-wired, and endlessly curious.

    With Tammy, I found permission to be the Sam I had worked so hard to rediscover.

    But even with love in my life, something still wasn’t clicking.
    The rest of my world was out of alignment.

    I was still clocking hours on work that drained me.
    Still hustling for survival instead of reaching for meaning.
    Still waking up with a weight in my chest that said, “this isn’t it.”

    I wasn’t living.
    I was surviving.

    And no matter how much love surrounded me, I knew—deep down—that I had to make a change.
    Not for anyone else.
    Not for validation.
    For me.

    To honour the dreams I planted when I was young.
    To finish the journey I started when I walked away from that safe marketing desk ten years ago.

    Starting from here.
    Starting with me.

    The Move That Mattered

    The move wasn’t filmed.
    Too real.
    Too heavy.
    Too damn exhausting.

    But that’s part of the story too.
    Maybe the most honest part.

    There’s a version of moving that looks good on camera—timelapses of boxes stacked neatly, friends laughing while carrying a couch, the golden light of “new beginnings” shining through spotless windows.

    This wasn’t that.

    This was sweat and swollen fingers.
    This was three solo golf cart trips across cracked streets, leaking oil the whole way, knees burning and begging for relief.
    This was loading and unloading until my hands cramped, wondering if I’d even make it through the day.
    Then my buddy Cosne showed up—steady, no questions asked—and for a while, the weight felt a little lighter, the grind a little less brutal.
    But the real shift? That still had to happen on my own.

    I can show you glimpses—cardboard bruised from the weight, clothes stuffed hastily into bins, plants buckled under the heat, the last sad pizza box from the final night in the old place.

    I can show the boxes, the unpacking, the little pieces of “before” making their way into “after.”
    The random receipts from a version of my life that doesn’t quite fit anymore.
    The notebooks half-filled with plans I outgrew without even noticing.

    But the real shift?
    That didn’t happen in the packing.
    It didn’t happen in the lifting or the sorting or the swearing under my breath.

    It happened after.

    It happened when the last box hit the ground and the echo in the new apartment was mine alone to hear.
    It happened sitting outside on the new patio—bare feet on cool concrete, sweat still drying on my skin, heart still hammering from the weight of it all.

    It happened when I realized I wasn’t running anymore.
    I wasn’t clinging to what had been lost.
    I wasn’t trapped by what hadn’t worked.

    I was breathing.
    For the first time in what felt like forever, I was breathing on my own terms.

    And that’s when I knew.

    This wasn’t just a move.
    This was a reset.

    Not loud.
    Not polished.
    Not pretty.

    But real.

    And real is enough.

    packed boxes

    This space has a garden.
    It’s not big or flashy, but it’s enough.

    Enough to feel the sun stretch across my skin first thing in the morning.
    Enough to sit outside with a coffee, barefoot, letting my mind settle before the noise of the day creeps in.
    Enough to watch the tiny anole lizards dart through the foliage, their quick green flashes a reminder that even in stillness, life moves.

    I arranged the plants myself—pots dragged from old places, new greens picked out carefully, a mix of old soul and fresh start.
    There’s something about setting them down, shifting them, making a space feel claimed and alive again.
    It’s not a manicured garden; it’s more of a living patchwork—wild in places, quiet in others, breathing around me.

    Some mornings I catch the sun just right, slanting through the leaves, casting soft shadows across the patio.
    Sometimes there’s just the sound of the wind clipping through the palms, the low hum of the island waking up.
    No headlines.
    No rush.

    Enough to remind me that peace doesn’t come from having more—it comes from creating room for what matters.
    Enough to remember that beginnings don’t always shout.
    Sometimes they whisper through the cracks and the roots and the quiet corners we make for ourselves.

    And here, in this small garden, in this small beginning, I’m learning to listen again.

    Starting From Here

    So this is it.
    No rebrand.
    No reinvention.
    Just a return.
    A return to someone I may have known once upon a time, in flashes and fragments.
    A person I desire—with all my heart, all my stubborn will, and all my worn-out soul—to rediscover again.
    To pull forward the pieces of myself I once trusted, and to find new things still worth learning, worth fighting for.
    To face my fears not with shame, but with a new-found perspective carved out on the backline of midlife, where the waves are slower but heavier, where every choice feels sharper because there’s less time to waste.

    I’m not looking for some dramatic arc.
    No reinvention worthy of headlines or hashtags.
    No curated story of triumph tied up in a bow.
    I’m looking for something simpler.
    I’m looking for truth—raw, unfiltered, mine alone.
    For health—not just in muscle or weight, but in spirit, in breath, in presence.
    For balance—between the hunger for more and the grace to stand still.
    For creativity that feels like oxygen, not obligation.
    For clarity strong enough to quiet the noise when the doubts come calling.

    I’m looking for the version of Sam that’s been there all along—
    quiet beneath the stress, steady beneath the stories, stubborn beneath the scars.
    The version of me who didn’t quit, even when it would have been easier.
    The version who still knows how to trust salt air, deep water, and the messy, beautiful business of trying again.

    This year, I choose to move with intention.
    Not to rush.
    Not to prove.
    But to build slowly, piece by piece, a life and work that reflect who I am—not who I think I should be, or who the world told me I was supposed to become.
    I choose to honour my body, even in its brokenness, even in its betrayals.
    To feed it.
    To listen to it.
    To stop punishing it for being human.

    I choose to tell real stories.
    Stories that don’t need a filter.
    Stories that don’t have a clean ending yet.

    I choose to live the dream I set out to chase ten years ago—even if it looks different now.
    Even if the edges are worn and the road is not the one I mapped out when I started.

    Because it’s still my dream.
    Because I’m still here.
    Because the ocean’s still out there waiting.

    This is my reset.
    This is my backline.
    This is my hand on the board, eyes on the horizon, ready for the next wave.

    And I’m starting from here.

  • Learning Meditation

    The Art of Not Falling Asleep While You Meditate!

    Try as I might, I have discovered that the art of meditation is difficult to master. That and Yoga, but that is another story! Many people have described the process as an act of conscientiously trying their best not to drift off into a 30-45 minute long sleep. While it may not sound that bad, it defeats the purpose of meditation. “Yeah I find time to take an afternoon nap, uhh I mean meditate!”

    Meditation is like anything, you need focus, to take time and train the mind. A good workout will train your body and muscles to perform, while learning to meditate with mindfulness can train your mind to do all types of wondrous things. There are many different meditation techniques out there and different practices require different techniques — so just how am I going tp learn to meditate?

    AdobeStock_222955189.jpg

    For the purpose of this article, we will focus on mindful meditation.  Mindfulness meditation encourages you to observe the wandering thoughts drifting through your mind.  The goal is to not get involved with these thoughts, nor to judge them, simply to be aware of each as they arise. All of which I do immediately every time. Sure, I focus on my breathing, slow and relaxed breath in through the nose and then slowly exhale through the mouth. Again and again, deep inhale through the nose and then slowly exhale through the mouth. With each breath feel how it moves through the body, focus on the sensations, the passage of air to and from the lungs.

    Through the practice of mindfulness meditation, the thoughts and feelings inside easily move in patterns. Immediately once I am relaxed my mind will drift. The human tendency is to pass judgement, negative or positive, to view others with a critical eye. These same thoughts you hear when out in life will drift in and out while meditating. I find it difficult to let them go, to understand that when I do I can attain balance.

    Great Resource – The Science of Mindfulness

    So where do you begin the journey of mindful meditation? You start, online, a book store, youtube or an app?  There are plenty of places to learn about meditation and figuring out what works for you is the best way to have success in meditation. I am still learning this. The simplest comes from the above “The Science of Meditation”. Simple get yourself into a comfortable position, close your eyes, focus on your breath and stay there for several minutes. Just use your phone to chime when you minutes are up. There are also great resources in the app store.  Look up “headspace“.  They promise to get you meditating in less then 10 days.  Though it never worked for me. Also, Be aware, it will cost you some money. I essentially abandoned it. Another way is to simply promise yourself 2-3 minutes everyday to start.

    Here are some simple self starting meditation tips

    • Sit or lie comfortably while you meditate. Some have special places in their rooms or gardens.
    • Close your eyes to meditate. You may need a mask.
    • Make no effort to control the breath while you meditate; simply breathe naturally. Eventually you will focus on breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth.
    • Focus your attention on the breath and on how the body moves with each inhalation and exhalation. Notice the movement of your body as you breathe. Observe your chest, shoulders, rib cage, and belly. Simply focus your attention on your breath without controlling its pace or intensity. If your mind wanders, return your focus back to your breath.
    • Repeat 3-5 times a week gradually increasing time. A good goal is to get to 20-30 minutes while you meditate.

    Of course, there is never any guarantee you will not drift off into peaceful bliss, if you do, just remember you are likely not the only one!

    meditate.1.jpeg
    meditate72.jpg

    Continue the Journey!

    Please share with me stories of your journey into meditation. Reading and listening to you will offer encouragement. I recognize I am not alone and can learn from those who have already begun to meditate more.

  • The Beatles OrTheRolling Stones

    Okay, I know there are going to be very strong and opposing views on this. It’s a great conversation starter. I mean seriously, the obvious answer is… Well, what is it? In my opinion it is entirely subjective.

    The question was first Started haunting me as I listed to and loved the song “Gimme Sympathy” by Metric. “Who’d you rather be, the Beatles or the Rolling Stones?”

    So to my girlfriend at the time I posed the question. Her immediate response “The Rolling Stones”. I paused on her answer. I had expected it to be the Beatles. Not because that was my answer, but because in my mind everyone chooses the Beatles. I mean wait, what? No! Of course not all of you would. Some of you would choose the Rolling Stones.

    At the time, I was confident in my answer. For me it was the Beatles. I just always remember loving their upbeat happy, sounding melodies and lyrics. When they went pure hard rock with screeching guitars like in “Helter Skelter“ or Revolution. Listening to the Beatles had always been apart of my musical history since my cousin John married his wife. In fact there are two very defining points in my musical development. The boys from my fathers pipe and drum band and my cousins 8 track collection. Yeah I said It. 8 track!

    The Beatles

    My Top 5 Beatles Songs

    1. “Come Together”:
    – Released: September 1969
    – Album: “Abbey Road”
    – Written by: John Lennon

    Notable Features:
    This Beatles song has always been one of my favs. It features a distinctive, funky deep bass line and a memorable, cryptic lyrical style. As the opening track for the “Abbey Road” album it has grown to be one of the bands most memorable songs. Written by John Lennon it is credited to Lennon and McCartney. Come Together reached the top of the charts in the US and Australia and peaked at number 4 in the UK.

    2. “Something”:

    – Released: October 1969
    – Album: “Abbey Road”
    – Written by: George Harrison

    Notable Features:
    “Something” is a beautiful ballad and one of Harrison’s most celebrated compositions. In fact this was the song we walked down the aisle to at my one and only wedding.The song showcases Georges growth as a songwriter. The heartfelt lyrics and a memorable melody turned this song into one of the Beatles’ most popular tracks.

    3. “Revolution”:
    – Released: August 1968
    – Album: “The Beatles” (also known as “The White Album”)
    – Written by: John Lennon

    Notable Features: “Revolution” is a politically charged rock song with a raw and aggressive sound. It exists in two versions: the slower and more introspective “Revolution 1” and the faster, more energetic “Revolution.” The song reflects Lennon’s views on social and political change. He was visionary.

    4. “Here Comes the Sun”:
    – Released: September 1969
    – Album: “Abbey Road”
    – Written by: George Harrison

    Notable Features: “Here Comes the Sun” is a joyous and uplifting song with a catchy melody. It features Harrison’s intricate guitar work and harmonies. The song is known for its optimistic lyrics and has become one of the Beatles’ most beloved tracks.

    5. “Get Back”:
    – Released: April 1969
    – Album: Originally released as a single, later included in the “Let It Be” album
    – Written by: Paul McCartney (credited to Lennon-McCartney)

    Notable Features: “Get Back” is a lively rock song with a catchy chorus. It has a bluesy influence and a straightforward, driving rhythm. The lyrics tell a story about Jojo, a fictional character, and the song showcases the Beatles’ energy and tight musical chemistry.

    These songs represent my top 5 Beatles songs. They are a strong representation of what it was I first wanted in the music I was seeking. Their diverse songwriting styles and their ability to create timeless and memorable music that fit many different genres.

    Top 5 All Time Songs

    The Beatles have had numerous successful songs throughout their career, but here are five of their most widely recognized and commercially successful tracks:

    1. “Hey Jude”:
    The song spent nine weeks at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart in the United States.

    2. “Yesterday”:
    “Yesterday” is a timeless and beautifully melancholic ballad written and sung by Paul McCartney.

    3. “Let It Be”:
     The song became an anthem for many and reached No. 1 on various charts worldwide.

    4. “I Want to Hold Your Hand”:
     The song topped the charts in multiple countries and ignited Beatlemania in the US, propelling them to global fame.

    5. “She Loves You”:
    The song reached No. 1 in the UK and played a crucial role in establishing the Beatles’ popularity early in their career.

    These songs represent some of the Beatles’ most successful and enduring hits, showcasing their songwriting prowess, musical innovation, and cultural impact. There are many other favorites, please post in the comments some of yours. Include the link to the video please I love music that is shared.

    The Rolling Stones

    My Top 5 Rolling Stones Songs

    1. “Wild Horses”:
    – Released: April 1971
    – Album: “Sticky Fingers”
    – Written by: Mick Jagger and Keith Richards

    Notable Features: “Wild Horses” is a poignant and incredibly melodic acoustical ballad. It features introspective lyrics, exploring themes of love and deep longing. The song is considered one of the Rolling Stones’ most beloved and enduring tracks. For me in particular is scream of the type of love lost when that connection was just incredibly right and maybe a little wrong at the same time.

    2. “Paint It Black”:
    – Released: May 1966
    – Album: “Aftermath”
    – Written by: Mick Jagger and Keith Richards

    Notable Features: “Paint It Black” is a dark and dramatic song characterized by its distinctive sitar riff and driving rhythm. The lyrics convey a sense of despair and introspection. The song’s unique sound and powerful atmosphere contributed to its success.

    3. “Sympathy for the Devil”:
    – Released: December 1968
    – Album: “Beggars Banquet”
    = Written by: Mick Jagger and Keith Richards

    Notable Features: “Sympathy for the Devil” is a provocative and bluesy rock song that features a hypnotic rhythm, strong percussion, and Jagger’s charismatic vocals. The lyrics present Satan’s perspective throughout different historical events. The song is considered one of the Rolling Stones’ signature tracks.

    4. “Satisfaction”:
    – Released: June 1965
    – Album: “Out of Our Heads” (US version)
    – Written by: Mick Jagger and Keith Richards

    Notable Features: “Satisfaction” is one of the Rolling Stones’ most iconic and recognizable songs. It opens with one of the most famous guitar riffs in rock history. The lyrics express frustration and longing for fulfillment, capturing the spirit of the rebellious rock ‘n’ roll era.

    5. “Let’s Spend the Night Together”:
    – Released: January 1967
    – Album: “Between the Buttons”
    – Written by: Mick Jagger and Keith Richards

    Notable Features: “Let’s Spend the Night Together” is an upbeat and energetic rock song with catchy hooks and a lively melody. The lyrics hint at a desire for a romantic intimate encounter. The song generated some controversy at the time due to its suggestive nature.

    These Rolling Stones songs showcase my favorites. I definitely like the earlier Stones songs. Hear we can get an idea of band’s range, from heartfelt ballads to gritty rock and roll anthems. Each song has contributed to the Rolling Stones’ legacy and their reputation as one of the greatest rock bands of all time.

    Top 5 All Time Songs

    The Rolling Stones have had numerous successful songs throughout their career. Below are five of their most widely recognized and commercially successful tracks:

    1. “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction”:
    The song’s rebellious spirit and catchy chorus made it a massive hit worldwide.

    2. “Paint It Black”
    This song reached No. 1 on the charts in various countries. It was also a feature in the into to the show China Beach.

    3. “Start Me Up”:
    “Start Me Up” is a rock anthem characterized by its infectious guitar riff and energetic groove. The song became one of the Rolling Stones’ signature tracks

    4. “Brown Sugar”:
     The song became a hit, reaching high positions on the charts in several countries.

    5. “Angie”:
    “Angie” is a heartfelt and melodic ballad that displays a softer side of the Rolling Stones’ repertoire.

    the beatlesthe rolling stineswhichbandisbetterbeatles songrolling stones song paul mcCartnetjohn lennongeorge harrisonhere comes the sunrevolutionlet it besatisfactionwild horsesmick jaggarkeith richardsguytardrumsringo starcharlie watts

  • Swimming With Giant Whale Sharks

    Written By Sam Martin

    Checking Swimming With Whale Sharks From My Bucket List.

    As a profound ocean enthusiast it has long been a dream of mine to swim with a shark in it’s natural habitat. though the whale shark is the most docile of all shark species, it is one the most exhilarating experiences to jump into the open ocean alongside one of these incredible giants.

    Best Place to Swim With Whale Sharks

    Whale Sharks had long been on my bucket list. I knew the absolute best place in North America to go and experience what these gentle giants was to head to the Cancun area every year between May and September. Licensed tour boats are taking 6-10 tourists out daily to get in the water alongside the feeding whale sharks.

    The easiest thing to do is to head to where the panga boats are or walk down main street and you will be able to book a tour. I recommend talking to the expats or locals, they always know a captain ready to book a tour for you. The more people in your party the more likely you can book the boat for just your group. Otherwise plan on sharing with 2-3 other groups.

    In the Water with a Whale SharK

    Early on the morning of our tour, the captain, ChuCho, picked us up at our house in an old topless 1970’s VW bug. We clamoured into the car with our gear and headed over to the dock. The boat we were getting on was the Aron. A clean mid sized panga with a small bathroom and hard top bimini to block some of the hot Caribbean sun. First a stop to pick up another group and we were heading out to open water. A 20 km trip off the norther tip of Isla Mujeres into the Caribbean waters.

    Every year the whale sharks arrive from different places to spend the summer feeding on the abundance of plankton and krill in the waters from May through September. It is also the time people come by the thousands to fulfil the dream of seeing one up close.

    As you near the location of the whale sharks, about 40 other tour boats in various colours and capacity are moving around just as your captain is trying to find the drop zone. Immediately, the captain and guide tell you to get ready. This means getting on your snorkel and fins and being ready to jump in the water on the word go. The captain, takes you in as close as he is allowed to and then with the guide, over the side 3 of you go into the water. No time for fear or hesitation. If you are not ready forget about it, you missed that round. You literally jump in the water close to a whale shark. The guide takes you towards the big fish while the boat circles around to pick you up. It moves that fast. The fish do not stop. Often times it looks like they are coming right for you but… they just move their tail fins and move right by.

    In case you are wondering there are rules. Rules you must follow.

    View Whale Shark Rules.

    GOPR0940-0001.jpg
    Tiburón ballenaGiant fish swimming casually along in open water mouths open wide collecting plankton

    Yes! It is as hectic! So hectic in fact one may say it is almost frantic. On this day there were fewer whale sharks than the day before. For us, only about 25 in total. With all the boats, loaded with people it was difficult to find spots. Every boat was vying for the perfect drop spot for their guests. The captain and the guide will let you get in the water 3-5 times depending on the crowds before heading back to the island. Each time is never the same as the one before. A different fish, a different angle, and definitely different lighting.

    Being in the water is unlike anything I have ever imagined. The moment I jumped into the water I was overcome with a sense of awe. The first whale shark swam past me and under the boat. I was so small in comparison to that fish. Larger than the food it ate, but still so tiny. And like that the fish was gone. We swam over to where the boat wold pick us up and queued up for the next jump in the water. Through all the commotion, I was able to get in the water 3 times before our boat mates started feeling queazy. Sea sickness was setting in. I was kinda feeling it myself as we hovered waiting for the last people in the water.

    Everyone is exhausted on the ride back to Isla Mujeres. I cannot help but sit back and reflect on the experience. There is a sense of something magical I am feeling. What an incredible thing. To be in the water alongside these incredible creatures. My first ever experience like that. (It wont be the last)

    IMG_7203.jpg
    Whale Shark TourSam Martin, Isla Mujeres Mexico

    We drop off the other guests before the captain takes the Aron over to moar at Playa Norte. This popular tourist attraction is rated one of the top 10 beaches in the world. A beautiful white sand beach lined with palm trees, beach chairs with umbrellas and many sun soakers.

    We anchored just outside the boat line, cracked open a cooler chilled bottle of Corona then jumped in the water to frolic for a bit. While we swam and snorkelled the captian made fresh white fish ceviche. My friends said it was good. I am not big on eating fish.

    That day with friends was one of the best in my life.


    Days after the experience lingered with me. I decided to get a tattoo on my right forearm to commemorate the experience for myself. There is a few really great shops on the island. I went one that is completely different now. The artists name was Sara.

    IMG_7364.jpg
    Whale Shark TattooDone at a shop on Isla Mujeres, Mexico

    More Whale Shark Pictures

    GOPR0938-0001.JPG
    GOPR0944-0003.JPG
    IMG_7219.JPG

    Have you been on a bucket list adventure? I would love to hear your story!

    adventureCancunlesbian travelwhale sharksRiviera MayaIsla MujeresMexicotravel

  • Fresh Morning Greens

    Nutrition

    Written By Sam Martin

    423E3BCB-821D-4A5C-9E49-1BB775016C29.PNG

    Do You Struggle to Get Your Fresh Greens?

    You’re not alone. Eating an abundance of fresh greens every day can be challenging, especially when processed foods seem to be everywhere. But incorporating more greens into your diet doesn’t have to feel like a chore. One of the easiest and most refreshing ways I’ve found to start my day with a boost of nutrients and energy is with a super green apple smoothie.

    This smoothie is packed with vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants, making it an excellent choice for those looking to fuel their mornings with fresh, raw greens. Lately, I’ve been experimenting with different smoothie combinations to create the perfect balance of flavour, texture, and nutrition, and this one has quickly become a favourite.

    The key to making this smoothie both nutritious and delicious is using whole, natural ingredients that provide a variety of essential nutrients. The crisp, tartness of a granny smith apple, blended with hydrating coconut water, frozen baby spinach, and fresh mint leaves, creates an invigorating and refreshing drink that wakes up your taste buds and gives your body what it needs.

    Why Green Smoothies?

    Greens are packed with essential nutrients, yet they are often missing from the average diet. Leafy greens like spinach provide a rich source of iron, calcium, vitamin K, and fiber, while spirulina (a nutrient-dense blue-green algae) is a natural source of protein, B vitamins, and antioxidants. Adding mint not only enhances the flavour but also supports digestion and gut health.

    One of the biggest benefits of drinking a green smoothie in the morning is that it helps alkalize the body, keeping your pH balanced and giving you natural, sustained energy throughout the day. When you start the day with fresh, raw greens, you’re giving your body an immediate dose of vitamins and minerals without relying on processed foods or artificial ingredients.

    How to Make the Super Green Apple Smoothie

    The best part about this smoothie is that it requires minimal ingredients, all sourced from plants and trees—nature’s perfect food. Everything in this recipe is designed to nourish and fuel the body.

    Take your blender of choice (I personally use the Ninja Blender) and combine the following:

    Ingredients (Serves 1)

    ✅ 1/2 cup frozen green apple slices – Tart, refreshing, and packed with fiber and vitamin C
    ✅ 1/2 cup frozen baby spinach – Rich in iron, folate, and antioxidants
    ✅ 1/2 teaspoon spirulina – A powerful superfood packed with protein and B vitamins
    ✅ 5-10 fresh mint leaves – Adds a cooling flavour and aids digestion
    ✅ 1/2 to 1 cup coconut water – Hydrating and full of electrolytes (coconut milk or plain water are also great options)

    Optional Add-Ins:

    • 1/4 avocado – For extra creaminess and healthy fats
    • 1 tablespoon almond or cashew butter – Adds protein and a smooth texture
    • 1 teaspoon chia or flax seeds – A great source of fiber and omega-3s

    The Method

    1. Chop the granny smith apple into bite-sized pieces. If you don’t have frozen apple slices, you can use fresh, but frozen will help make the smoothie colder and thicker.
    2. Add all ingredients to your blender. Start with 1/2 cup of coconut water and add more if needed for your desired consistency.
    3. Blend until smooth and creamy. If you prefer a thinner consistency, add a little more coconut water.
    4. Pour into a chilled glass and enjoy immediately.

    Eat What the Earth Provides

    What I love most about this smoothie is that it’s made entirely from foods grown from the earth—fresh fruits, leafy greens, and plant-based superfoods. I’ve made it a goal to consume more of what nature naturally provides, learning from the earth and the sun to fuel my body with real, whole foods.

    Greens don’t have to be boring or difficult to incorporate into your diet. Start your morning with a super green smoothie, and you’ll be giving your body a powerful boost of nutrients, hydration, and energy—all in one delicious glass.

    If you’ve been struggling to get your greens in, this is one of the easiest ways to start! Try it and let me know what you think.

    “You know me, I think there ought to be a big old tree right there. And let’s give him a friend. Everybody needs a friend.”

    — Bob Ross

    green smoothiesuper greensspinachgreen apples

  • PB&J Hearty Breakfast Oatmeal

    PB&J Hearty Breakfast Oatmeal

    Written By Sam Martin

    Make a delicious hearty Oatmeal for Breakfast!

    On chilly winter mornings, there’s nothing better than starting the day with a hearty, stick-to-your-ribs oatmeal breakfast. One of our favourites is what we call PB & J Oatmeal—inspired by the classic peanut butter and jam sandwich but packed with nutrient-dense ingredients. This warm, satisfying bowl combines creamy peanut butter, sweet fruit preserves, and wholesome oats for a deliciously comforting and energy-boosting start to the day.

    This PB & J Oatmeal is incredibly simple to make, requiring just a handful of pantry and freezer staples. In under 20 minutes, you can whip up a warm, hearty bowl that’s not only delicious but also packed with essential nutrients to fuel your morning. The combination of creamy peanut butter, naturally sweet fruit preserves, and wholesome oats provides a perfect balance of protein, healthy fats, and fiber, keeping you full and energized for hours. Whether you’re looking for a quick weekday breakfast or a cozy weekend treat, this easy-to-make meal is a satisfying way to start your day on a nutritious note.

    Ingredients:
    Rolled Oats – Use whole oats and not quick oats.
    Blueberries & Strawberries – Get them fresh and in season when possible. Otherwise use frozen.
    Cinnamon & Vanilla – Our vanilla is pure from Mexico. Artificial vanilla lacks nutrients and the real flavours.
    Plant Milk – I love coconut, she loves soy. You can choose your own.
    Organic Peanut Butter – We buy ours from the bulk food store, you can really use any you like.

    THE RECIPE

    • 1/3 cup Oatmeal – large plain dry
    • 1/2 cup Water – removed nut milk
    • 1/2 cup blueberries
    • 1/2 cup strawberries
    • 1 teaspoon each – hemp seeds, sunflower seeds and pumpkin seeds
    • 1 tablespoon Natural Creamy Peanut Butter
    • 1 teaspoon amber honey
    • 1 /2 teaspoon each – pure vanilla / cinnamon
    The PB&J Oatmeal Ingredients!
    The PB&J Oatmeal Ingredients!

    Create the Berry Compote
    Place a pan to preheat on medium. Once the pan is hot add in the blueberries and cut strawberries. Start stirring them and soon they will start to breakdown and become like a jam.

    Add in the lemon juice and a 1/2 portion of the cinnamon and vanilla. Continue to cook until the liquid is minimal.Cooking will take about 5 – 7 minutes

    Prepare the Oatmeal
    First heat up the water in the pot. Stir in the oats just before the water comers to a boil. Cool the oats until all the liquid has been absorbed. Stir in the remaining vanilla and cinnamon. Cooking will take about 5-6 minutes.

    A serving of this will put you at about 370 calories without the nut milk. Below is a breakdown of the nutrients.

    Basic Nutritional Info for 1 serving

    View Oatmeal Gallery

    oatMealNutrition.png

    Once the oatmeal is cooked you can assemble in the bowl to eat. Start with the oats adding on top of that that your warm berry compote, sprinkling the seeds across the top and drizzling with the honey!

    Please let us know if you have any recipes ideas or questions about changing your diet to include more whole food plant based options that are nutrient dense.

    Looking for more great recipes, check out the Minimalist Baker

    oatmeal peanut butter jelly oatmeal recipes food breakfast nutrient dense meals