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It honestly feels a little unreal to write this, but 2025 has taken me places, physically, emotionally, and creatively, that I never could have predicted.
This year alone somehow included travel across Ontario, Alberta, Winnipeg, the Northwest Territories, and to the very edge of the Arctic, not once, but twice within three months, to Churchill, Manitoba / Hudson Bay (even dipped my toes into the icy Arctic waters of it as well). One of those trips even became the inaugural Oh Me Nerves Photography Polar Expedition Guiding Trip, which still feels strange, and very cool, to say out loud.
I’m beyond grateful for what has unfolded. Truly.
But if I’m being honest, because that’s the only way I know how to do this, it hasn’t been all epic landscapes and Instagram moments. There have been lows. Heavy ones. And a lot of learning how to sit with discomfort instead of trying to outrun it.
One of the biggest shifts in my life came from stepping away from a toxic and abusive workplace after nearly 15 years. That decision, terrifying at the time, has given me about 20 months of slowly regaining my voice, my confidence, and my sense of self. It also gave me something I didn’t realize I’d been missing for years: time in nature. Real time. Quiet time. Healing time.
Somewhere along the way, this messy, uncertain chapter began turning into something I once only dreamed about, but can now almost see just over the horizon: a life rooted in storytelling, photography, education, writing, and speaking.
Let’s be very clear though. I am still very much in the red 😂
Our household would happily welcome a lot more print sales, photo sessions, speaking bookings, and sold-out expeditions of any kind. Contrary to popular belief, chasing your dream does not immediately come with financial stability, matching pants, or a calm nervous system.
But things are moving in the right direction.
And maybe most importantly, I’m happy.
Okay, working on it. Progress, not perfection.
This year I spent a lot of time in therapy, outdoors, buried in self-help books, listening to podcasts, and then somehow deciding it would be a great idea to start my own (🎙️ The Viewfinder Sessions, now on all major platforms, WOOT WOOT). I’ve been trying, sometimes clumsily, to become a better version of myself than I was yesterday.
Another area I’ve begun to lean into deeply, and one that will remain a major focus moving forward, is reconciliation and learning within Indigenous communities. This year I completed a certificate in Canadian Indigenous History and Cultural Sensitivity, became a Wilderness Survival Instructor with Indigenous-based teachings, completed a 16-hour Mental Health Wilderness First Aid certification, and am currently studying for my TICO exam, drone pilot license, and additional coursework in journalism and beyond.
I’m tired, but in a good way. The kind of tired that comes from growth.
Chasing a dream is exhausting. Long hours. A lot of solitude. A constant internal battle between not wanting to oversell yourself while also understanding that if you don’t share your work, no one sees it. Numbers don’t matter, until they do. Corporations, brands, and industry decision-makers care about reach, whether we like it or not. So when you see me asking for likes, follows, shares, and subscriptions, that’s genuinely the reason.
If even 10 percent of my current audience bought one thing a year, I’d be doing just fine.
But algorithms and internet nonsense have other plans, so here we are, slowly building, brick by brick.
As the holiday season rolls in, you’ll often find me unable to sit still, rocking in some sort of moving chair, staring at the lights on the Christmas tree, a book nearby, a one-finger pour of bourbon or scotch within reach, reflecting on everything this year has held.
I think about my wife.
Our two incredible kids.
Our dog.
A warm home.
Food in the pantry.
And I’m reminded, especially after surviving a horrific collision with a fully loaded gravel truck in the Northwest Territories, that none of this is guaranteed. Quite frankly, we shouldn’t be here. But we are.
So this Christmas season, I encourage you to pause. Remember the good and the bad. Look back not just at what you achieved, but at what you survived. There’s something powerful in realizing how far you’ve come, even when the road ahead still feels long.
For me, I’m alive.
My family is alive.
And the future, while uncertain, feels bright.
Thank you for being part of this journey.