Holding The Centre In A Fractured World
As Canadians, we often speak with pride about our diversity. We tell ourselves—and the world—that people from many cultures, faiths, and backgrounds have found a home here, and that somehow, miraculously, it works.
For many of us, that diversity can feel so woven into the fabric of daily life that we barely notice it. We move through our neighbourhoods, our workplaces, our schools, assuming peace and stability as a given.
But recent world events have reminded us that peace is not accidental, and stability is not guaranteed.
Canada’s place on the global stage has become clearer in the past few years—not as a dominant power, but as a steady one. A country known for diplomacy rather than aggression. A reliable partner.
That reputation did not come from uniformity. It came from learning, sometimes imperfectly, how to live alongside difference without tearing one another apart.
Even within our own borders, we feel the strain. We hear the language of “us versus them” creeping into conversations. We see division sharpened for political gain.
We watch how quickly fear and misunderstanding can be amplified, especially when people feel unheard, unseen, or uncertain about the future.
It is at moments like these that relationships often fracture between communities, within families, friendships, and neighbourhoods.
For much of my life, and throughout the years of publishing this magazine, I have deliberately avoided politics and religion as editorial topics. Not because they don’t matter, but because they matter so deeply.
These are subjects that touch identity, belief, and belonging. Handled carelessly, they can wound. They can harden people into polarizing positions rather than invite them into conversation.
I have held a deep admiration for those who manage to stand firmly within their own beliefs—political or religious—while still standing for the greater good. People who do not dilute their values, but neither weaponize them.
That posture—rooted, open, steady—is what has been quietly capturing my attention.
A few months ago, I watched a video created by former federal NDP leader Jagmeet Singh. In it, he appeared without a turban, showing his natural hair, and then slowly wrapped it as he spoke about his culture, his faith, and the meaning behind that daily ritual.
He explained not only what he does, but why. In doing so, he gently dismantled assumptions I didn’t even realize I was carrying.
The video wasn’t persuasive or defensive. It was explanatory. Human. Disarming.
Around the same time, I joined a Taoist tai chi community. From the outside, it looked like a wellness practice—movement, breath, balance. What I didn’t expect was the quiet social architecture embedded within it. Service and volunteering are emphasized.
New members are gifted a simple T-shirt with the society’s logo. At first, I assumed it was good branding. But over time, I realized it was something else entirely.
The shirt quietly levels the field. No one arrives marked by status or style. No designer labels. No performance of expertise. We all wear the same thing. We move together. We stand shoulder to shoulder. No one is elevated above another.
What struck me most was how safe the space felt—not because it was empty or isolating, but because it was shared. I could claim my few feet of floor space. I could breathe. I could be socially surrounded while still maintaining my own sovereign centre.
It is a rare thing, to find a space that welcomes you on those terms.
Canada is home to many cultures, many faiths, many ways of understanding the world. We often celebrate that fact in broad, abstract language.
But celebration without understanding can remain superficial. We coexist, but we don’t always know one another. And when stress enters the system—economic pressure, global conflict, political uncertainty—it is the gaps in understanding that become fault lines.
So, in the coming year, I want to begin an exploration.
Not an argument. Not an endorsement. Not a theological discussion.
An exploration of faith communities—not through the lens of belief or doctrine, but through the lens of culture, service, and connection to community.
How do different faith traditions engage with the world around them? How do they foster belonging? How do they show up when people are struggling—through food programs, counselling, ceremony, presence, or quiet acts of service?
Where do they touch lives with healing hands or comforting words? How do they teach people to stand within themselves while remaining connected to others?
These are human questions, not religious ones.
I want to ask community leaders—Indigenous chiefs and elders, Jewish rabbis, Sikh leaders such as granthis or gianis, Muslim imams, Taoist priests, Buddhist monks, Hindu pandits, and others—tp share how their communities live, care, and contribute.
This is not about proselytizing. It is not about deciding whose beliefs are right or wrong. It is not about smoothing over real differences or pretending they don’t exist.
When we understand why a practice matters to someone, it becomes harder to reduce them to a stereotype.
When we see how communities serve beyond their own walls, it becomes harder to dismiss them as insular or self-interested.
When we hear the language people use to speak about compassion, responsibility, and belonging, we begin to recognize familiar values expressed through different lenses.
Understanding does not require agreement. Respect does not require sameness.
If anything, strong societies are built by people who are secure enough in their own identities to allow others theirs.
This magazine has always been about inspiration—about people living fully, thoughtfully, and with intention, particularly in the later chapters of life.
As we age, many of us become less interested in noise and more interested in meaning. Less drawn to certainty, more open to nuance. We have lived long enough to know that life rarely fits into simple categories.
Exploring the cultural and community dimensions of faith is, to me, a natural extension of that inquiry. It is about how people make meaning together. How they carry responsibility for one another. How they maintain dignity and cohesion in a world that often feels fractured and hurried.
My hope is that any articles we publish on these topics will offer readers a place to pause. To learn something unexpected. To soften an assumption. To recognize themselves, even faintly, in someone whose life looks different from their own.
If we are to strengthen our Canadian bond, it will not be through louder voices or sharper divisions. It will come through steady attention, mutual respect, and the willingness to stand in shared spaces without needing to dominate them.
That is the centre I am trying to hold as we move into the coming year. I invite you to explore it with me.
69 views