A methodical practice, first learned with greasy hands on steel frames, now applied to clean abstractions in cloud architecture. This is a story about two kinds of tools, and the single mind that uses them.
My journey into professional bicycle mechanics began at Bike Pirates, a non-profit co-op in Toronto’s west end, where I learned the fundamentals. From there, I transitioned to Urbane Cyclist, a worker co-operative that profoundly shaped my approach to technical work. Urbane was more than just a shop; it was a hub for Toronto’s cycling scene, a community held together by shared values and, often, shared roti meals from Gandhi’s during staff meetings and parties.
My journey through martial arts in Toronto began not with a desire to fight, but with a curiosity about movement and the ways different disciplines frame the problem of conflict. From the solitary, meditative forms of Tai Chi to the cooperative dynamics of Aikido, and finally to the demanding physicality of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, each art offered a distinct language for the body and the mind. This is a record of that education.
A practice of movement and stillness, learned in a studio that no longer exists.
My journey with yoga began at the Octopus Garden Yoga studio in Toronto’s Annex neighborhood, located at 440 Bloor Street West, 2nd Floor, Toronto, ON M5S 1X5. The studio operated for 18 years as a vibrant yoga studio & wellness clinic before closing its doors on July 20th, 2023, but remains vivid in my memory. It was there that I first encountered the disciplined practice of Ashtanga yoga, a system that demands both physical rigor and mental clarity. The studio had an atmosphere of focused dedication that I found both challenging and comforting—a place where the outside world could be temporarily set aside in favor of inner work. I had the privilege of practicing with teachers Pat and JP during my time there.
A journey through traditional healing, dashed hopes, and the return to familiar ground.
My path into shiatsu began with a promise that never materialized. The school I attended in Toronto—originally known as the Shiatsu School of Canada and later evolving into the Acupuncture and Integrative Medicine (AIM) Academy—assured us that regulation was coming soon, that our credentials would be recognized and valued in the Canadian healthcare system. Founded in 1986, the school had been operating for decades and had built a reputation as one of Canada’s leading institutions for traditional healing practices. This promise of legitimacy and professional opportunity drew me into a three-year program of study, where I learned the art of healing touch, the meridian system, and the subtle energies that flow through the human body. But the regulation that was supposed to validate our training never came, leaving many of us in a professional limbo.