And because I never felt important enough

And because I never felt important enough

To my parents,

Or to my friends,

Or to my lovers,

Or to my spouse,

Or to my children,

Or to my customers and followers,

Let me feel important enough

O Lord

To you. 

Give It All Away

CLICK HEAR TO HEAR THE SONG

I think I fell in love last night—

Don’t even know her name.

But what they say about it's true:

I’ll never be the same.

A bomb was dropped, the sirens blared,

The army never came.

The streets are ash, the children scream—

They’ll never be the same.

I heard my sister died last night,

I saw her yesterday.

She read her feed then took a pill,

And slowly slipped away.

A bill came in the mail last night,

I swore I wouldn't pay.

I’m running from my broken brain,

And debts I can't repay.

Give it all away,

Give it all away.

Every time they make you bleed.

Give it all away,

Give it all away.

Every time they feed your need.

I haven’t slept at all tonight—

Only me to blame.

I feel my body filling up,

Then leaking out again.

My heart is pounding with the noise,

Of headlines, grief, and fame.

And part of me will not believe,

It's all a stupid game.

When you love, you don't count your losses,

Don't name your every pain.

Hold her close—but not too close—

And give it all away.

They lied to you, they’re lying still.

Don’t listen when they say,

That all of this is all there is,

Just give it all away.

Habemus Papam

I'll admit to getting caught up in all the excitement. Watching the news hour by hour for the white smoke to appear out of that wooden cabin-looking tin pipe atop the Sistine Chapel. It probably has something to do with the fact that I've been sick in bed for the past six days. But good TV is good TV, and what a showstopper at the end: the election of an American pontiff.

That seemed to come out of nowhere. Another first in our lifetime. I put it up there with the election of an African-American as President of the United States, which I never thought I'd see—well ahead of the election of the first convicted felon as President. You always imagine the occupant of the Vatican as someone who represents the Old World, not the New. Someone European, or—like the Argentinian Francis—someone who grew up speaking a European language and belonged to a soccer club. You don’t expect a man who spoke in Midwestern slang, rode the "L" train, listened to Studs Terkel on the radio, and cheered for the White Sox.

It’s hard not to juxtapose the two American world figures in your mind: Leo XIV, who spent his career working with the poor of Peru and now leads over a billion Catholics, and the narcissistic felon in the Oval Office who leads MAGA. Could the contrast be any greater? I dearly hope Leo understands how powerful that contrast can be if it's properly and strategically exploited.

It’s happened before—a pope leveraging his position on the world stage to effect meaningful global change. Popes who played it safe in the face of political turmoil have not fared well in history. For example, Pius XII, who was pope during World War II, has been witheringly criticized for his failure to confront the Holocaust with force or clarity. But others understood their historical moment. Pope John Paul II, for instance, was not only one of the most beloved figures of his era, but also an active political force: a voice against South African Apartheid, and an instrumental figure in the downfall of Communism in Eastern Europe.

Leo XIV is inheriting a world in duress—politically, economically, environmentally, and spiritually. I hope he understands the weight of that inheritance. We should begin to see his vision take shape soon, as he begins to plan visits to his global flock. A return visit to his home country should be high on the list. A papal visit to the United States—especially under its current political leadership—could prove more than symbolic. It could be catalytic. The attention, the crowds, the stark contrast in values—it would drive Trump mad.

We live in an age when moral clarity is rare and cynicism reigns. But history has shown that when the right figure steps onto the stage at the right moment, even institutions as ancient and cumbersome as the Catholic Church can become agents of change. Let’s hope Leo is that figure. And let’s hope he’s up for the challenge.

The Elephant’s Pirouette

In an election as massive and messy as a Canadian federal one, nuance rarely survives. Yet somehow, out of this unwieldy national ritual, emerged a gesture so precise and telling it bordered on poetic: Pierre Poilievre lost his seat.

That singular fact is, for me, the clearest sign of the surprising wisdom embedded in this election. It’s like watching an elephant perform a pirouette. You can’t help but ask—how is such art even possible?

Before the campaign began, my theory was simple: the towering Conservative lead wasn’t about love for Poilievre, but fatigue with Trudeau. Canadians weren’t necessarily shifting rightward—they were simply tired of the prime minister’s face on their screens, his carefully calibrated empathy, his tendency to emote rather than decide. The weariness calcified, for many, when Trudeau visited Mar-a-Lago. Predictably, trump called him “Governor”—a humiliation for all Canadians. That trip, tone-deaf in the extreme, marked the end of Trudeau’s political viability. He didn’t seem to grasp how trump would spin such a move—as submission. Trudeau had to go.

But that didn’t mean Poilievre was beloved. Quite the opposite. He had risen not on inspiration, but inertia—benefiting from the cyclical appetite for change that sets in after two terms of any government. And I suspected that the more Canadians saw and heard him, the less they would like him. On election night, that hunch proved correct—spectacularly so.

The Liberal Party, for all its flaws, remains an adroit political machine. First, it did the hard thing: removing an incumbent leader who had clearly lost the public’s trust. Then it made a strategic pivot, grasping that this election would not be about policy, but about existential leadership—about who could best defend Canada from the looming menace of a second trump presidency. They chose Mark Carney, a candidate who in almost every respect is trump’s opposite: intelligent, methodical, experienced, competent, decent. (Full disclosure: I voted for Chrystia Freeland in the leadership race. I was clearly wrong.)

Crucially, the Liberals blurred the policy lines between themselves and the Conservatives, narrowing the election to a binary choice of leadership. And it worked. What had seemed destined to be a three- or four-way vote-split realigned into a two-party race. Progressives moved away from the NDP. Singh, like Poilievre, lost his seat.

To be clear, the Conservatives still had a relatively strong night. They gained in popularity and in seats. The desire for change is real and growing. But they were ultimately undone by their leader’s deep unpopularity—especially in Quebec. And in a campaign focused on gravitas, trust, and moral steadiness, Poilievre’s gleeful combativeness wore thin.

Sometimes, democracy astonishes. Not because it always gets everything right—but because it occasionally gets the mood, the message, and the moment exactly right.

This was one of those times. An elephant just did a pirouette.

Proud of Canadians

I’m proud of Canadians. Even the politicians. This federal election campaign has been unusually substantive, marked by a tone of seriousness and purpose. Canadians, in turn, have responded with unprecedented numbers turning out for advanced polling. There’s a sense of civic engagement in the air that we haven’t seen since 1988—when Canadian sovereignty was also on the ballot, in the form of the proposed free trade agreement with the United States.

That fall, I had just returned from a year of graduate studies in Switzerland, after three years studying political science at McGill. I decided it was time to get real-world political experience, and a friend of my mother’s connected me with a Liberal candidate running on the South Shore of Montreal. Like him, I opposed the free trade deal. It wasn’t that I was against trade; I believed in international commerce. But I felt there needed to be safeguards. The fear, widely shared at the time, was that free trade with the U.S. would make us culturally, politically, and economically dependent on the ravenous giant to our south.

Thirty-seven years later, that fear seems less like paranoia and more like prophecy.

In 1988, both major parties offered versions of Canadian nationalism. Brian Mulroney’s Progressive Conservatives argued optimistically that Canada was ready to compete with the world, including the U.S., and that free trade would unleash our economic potential. The Liberals, under John Turner, argued defensively that the deal would lead to irreversible changes we’d be unable to resist—pressures that would compromise our sovereignty, culture, and policy independence. Both messages, in their own way, were nationalistic. One was hopeful; the other, cautionary. The hopeful one won by a landslide.

As it turns out, both were also right. In the decades that followed, Canada experienced growth and prosperity—but also wage stagnation, cultural dilution, and a deepening economic dependency on the U.S.

Today’s election feels like the inverse of 1988. Once again, Canadian sovereignty is part of the national conversation, but this time the threat isn’t a trade deal—it’s the political chaos seeping northward from the United States. And it has had a galvanizing effect. All of our major party leaders, regardless of ideology, have been forced by circumstance to strike a more unifying, forward-looking tone. This is how political leaders should behave: trying to build broad support by offering hopeful visions, not seeking power by dividing their opponents. This campaign is about how to make Canada stronger, more resilient, and fairer—not about who to blame for what’s broken.

That’s a sign of democratic health. The surest symptom of democratic decay is when politicians focus on wedge issues, stoke grievance, and pander to fear. Canadians, to their credit, seem unwilling to go down that road.

That’s why, I believe, Pierre Poilievre’s once-ascendant campaign has faltered. He built his brand around anger and antagonism. That approach resonated briefly, but when the national mood shifted—when Canadians began to look for hope—he couldn’t shift with it. Mark Carney, by contrast, has offered a consistently optimistic, constructive message. That positivity may well be the secret sauce of his continued success. Poilievre has tried to soften his tone in recent weeks, but it doesn’t come naturally to him, and it shows.

Voting should not just be a civic duty. It should be a hopeful act—a declaration that the future can be better, and that we can build it together. Politicians who trade in anger and cynicism don’t deserve to lead. And when they do win, as we’ve seen in the United States, the consequences can be catastrophic.

This election, Canadians appear to be choosing differently. That gives me hope—not just for the outcome, but for the country itself.

Yes, We Are Canadian

Not something in our character, 
To shout it out with pride.

Part of being Canadian,
Is a reluctance to take sides.

Our balance is our strength,
With steadiness and grace.
On skis, on blades, in a canoe,
No challenge we won't face.

We seek the quiet middle,

We’re a mix of many kin.
Stand tall as a Douglas Fir, 

Strong as a prairie wind.

We love in many languages,

We work in many fields.

Our voices and our values,

Express our shared ideals.

Yes, we are Canadian,

It's all we want to be. 

We sing it from the Rockies,

From the ice floes to the sea.  

Yes, we are Canadian,

It's all we want to be.

Nothing 'gainst the USA -

Just not a place for me.

We know who are our friends,

We honour every creed.

The flag we raise means unity —

Our symbol the maple leaf.

Our homes are always warm,

Our arms are always open.

With hearts vast as the wilderness,

Our spirits can't be broken.

We seek the quiet middle,

We’re a mix of many kin.
Stand tall as a Douglas fir, 

Strong as a prairie wind.

We love in many languages,

We work in many fields.

Our voices and our values,

Express our shared ideals.

Oui, nous sommes Canadiens,

Notre amours vaste comme cette terre, 

Nous le chantons des Rocheuses,
Jusqu’au bord du mer. 

Oui, nous sommes Canadiens,

Et c'est là qu'on vieillit.

Rien contre les États-Unis,

Mais ce n'est pas notre pays.

Yes, we are Canadian,

It's all we want to be. 

We'll sing it from the Rockies, 

From the ice floes to the sea.  

Yes, we are Canadian,

It's all we want to be.

Nothing 'gainst the USA -

Just not a place for me.

Now

According to the sage 

Past and future 

Memory and projection

Are figments of mind 

And the universe 

Gives birth anew

All the energy of creation

Coalescing in a single moment

We call now.