This year, I stood on Parliament Hill in Ottawa for the very first time.
I was struck by the grandeur of the buildings, the sweep of the lawns, and the weight of history in every carved stone and echoing hallway.
It was a reminder that leadership, in all its forms, leaves footprints long after the individuals themselves move on.
In this issue, we profile a former Canadian prime minister whose legacy continues to ripple through our national story.
Reading his profile brought me back to my own first steps into Ottawa, standing as one citizen among millions who have been shaped by decisions made in that place.
Parliament wasn’t the only milestone I found myself reflecting on this year.
Around the same time that our profiled prime minister was shaping the nation, another individual was shaping something much closer to home: Wendy Welch, who founded the Vancouver Island School of Art more than two decades ago.
Reading about her tireless commitment to creativity, I couldn’t help but think back to my own beginnings.
Roughly 20 years ago, I was laying the foundations for my own publishing company. It was a leap into the unknown, fuelled less by certainty than by passion — not unlike Wendy’s.
Though my art has always been more dabbling than disciplined, I have never stopped believing in the importance of artistic expression. It feeds the soul, just as leadership shapes the world.
That thread of courage and curiosity carried me into another story in this issue: the tale of a woman who discovered motorcycling in middle age.
Her account made me smile — and wince — because I had my own brush with that particular passion.
At 50, I earned my motorcycle licence and bought my first bike.
The learning curve was steep, but the exhilaration was worth it. There is something liberating about opening the throttle, about stepping wholly outside one’s comfort zone.
I sold my bike a couple of years ago, but, like the author of this article, I still carry the lessons from that season of adventure.
I know what it means to hear the call of the open road and to answer it, even when others might question why.
Adventure, of course, doesn’t always involve helmets and handlebars. For some, it comes in the form of oceans and continents.
In this issue, we share the story of a woman who celebrated her 70th birthday with the trip of a lifetime: a cruise to New Zealand and Australia.
What struck me most was not just the scale of the trip, but the way it marked a milestone with purpose and joy.
This year has been the most travelled year of my life: Portugal, France, Mexico (twice), Ottawa, the Kootenays, and Thailand. Each trip was its own chapter, a reminder that new experiences remain wide open to us — if we are willing to say yes.
Travel is never only about the destinations; it’s about seeing the world, and ourselves, with fresh eyes.
And then there is pilgrimage.
This month, we chronicle Japan’s Shikoku Trail, an ancient route that winds past temples and through landscapes steeped in meaning. I have never walked the Shikoku, but my first trip to Asia earlier this year — to Thailand — has left me thirsty to explore more of that region of the world.
In Europe, I spent quiet moments at the pilgrimage cathedrals in Porto, Portugal and Santiago, Spain. Though I have yet to lace up my shoes for a full pilgrimage, I understand something of the longing it represents: the desire to pause, to seek, to walk with intention.
I even have a connection with the REFRESH article about martial arts. I trained in the practice of ju jitsu when I was a young woman, and spent a couple years learning karate in my 50s.
And yes, I also had a brush with Mr. Chrétien. I was set to meet him in Ottawa earlier this year but he was hospitalized for a heart stent two days earlier. He recovered quickly and fully, thankfully, but I will need to wait for another opportunity to meet this iconic man.
Now you know why all the articles in this issue resonate with meaning. They feel like a walk through my private life.
What else ties these stories together?
At first glance, politics, art schools, motorcycles, martial arts, cruises, and pilgrimages may seem like an odd assortment. But to me, they share a common spark.
They are about refusing to let age dictate our boundaries.
They are about curiosity, courage, and the willingness to keep saying yes — to leadership, to creativity, to adventure, to new cultures, and to spiritual journeys.
They remind us that our 50s, 60s, and 70s are not endings, but beginnings
Editing this issue has felt like holding a mirror. Each story reflected back something of my own path, and perhaps yours too.
That’s the beauty of this stage of life: we have accumulated enough years to look back with perspective, but we are still facing forward with energy and hope.
Whether your personal journey leads you to Parliament Hill or the open sea, to a sketchpad or a motorbike, to a distant temple or your own backyard, what matters most is that you continue to walk it with intention.
As I put this issue into your hands, I invite you to see yourself in these stories, as I did.
Let them remind you that it’s never too late for new passions, new milestones, or new journeys. The footprints we leave — in our families, our communities, and our own hearts — are still being made, one bold step at a time.
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