Day 7 — unity for Toronto, together
A letter to our neighbours, published as written — dated August 17, 2026, by The Unknown Soldier. This is one person’s voice, not the site’s.
Dear neighbours,
Please help us fix all of our problems. We can do this, Toronto, together.
Toronto is my home; our home. It’s the most amazing city in the world, full of the world’s best peoples. We live on stolen land benefitting from stolen wealth, and our greatest fear is that it’s going to be taken away from us.
Instead of loving the blessings our ancestors’ blood, sweat and tears earned us, we squander it, living lonely and unhappy lives mostly spent chasing money, by choice.
We’re all afraid. Afraid of losing what we have. Afraid of not having enough. Afraid of being poor. Afraid of being hungry. Afraid of being cold, wet and without shelter. Afraid of what other people think of us.
We’re afraid of what will happen if we tell the truth, so we lie. We lie to each other. We lie to our customers, our clients, our beneficiaries, our suppliers, our partners, our lovers. Most importantly, we lie to ourselves. We lie about our happiness. We lie about our needs. We lie about our wealth.
We tell our neighbours we don’t have enough money to buy them a coffee. We tell our neighbours we don’t have enough to give them shelter or their medicine. We tell our neighbours we don’t have enough cigarettes to share or that we can’t afford a meal for them.
We do this every day by walking by those asking, treating them as invisible — and then we wonder why the world treats us as if we’re invisible.
We tell each other we’re too busy, we’re too important, that we don’t have enough time, that we don’t have enough money, that it’s too hard, that it’s impossible, that it can’t be done.
And then we don’t even try. Or we try for a little while and then give up. Then we try again, and give up again.
Our biggest lie: we need a job. We need money.
You don’t need a job. You don’t need money. You need far less than you fear. Don’t believe me? Ask the survivors among us — refugees, elders, veterans, people who have lived through war, prison, and the street.
If you don’t understand how much suffering we’re capable of overcoming, just ask a grandparent — an elder.
We humans can endure horrendous suffering, yet we’re afraid of walking barefoot outdoors, touching a cigarette butt on the ground, sharing a public toilet seat, or even breathing the air of others.
Do you have shelter, food, and access to water, sanitation, and hygiene for the next week? Perfect — you’ve got enough time and money to help others.
Stop making excuses. You are the problem. We are the problem. Not them. We are them. Stop reading Jung and read Adler. Take some responsibility.
Here’s the way I look at it: it’s all my fault. It’s all my responsibility. If it’s in my experience of existence, it’s my fault.
The genocides and wars in Sudan, Congo, Syria, Myanmar, Afghanistan, Ukraine, Gaza, Lebanon? My fault, my responsibility.
The children around the world growing up without fathers or mothers at home? My fault, my responsibility.
All the suffering of the world? My fault, my responsibility.
All the garbage in our environment? My fault, my responsibility.
The homeless in Toronto? My fault, my responsibility.
The woman on our streets trading her body for crack or fentanyl? My fault, my responsibility.
Since it’s my fault, it’s my responsibility to clean it up. How do I clean up the problems around me? I improve myself and work on mastering the skills and knowledge that’ll help me solve those problems. I then clean up myself, my room, my home, my neighbourhood, and my communities, one step at a time — and I like taking as many steps as possible each day.
Please understand: I don’t need any resources to solve problems, and neither do you. All we need to solve our problems is our attention.
I have learned that if the words I use to describe the solutions I think about are good enough, other people listen to them and allocate their resources accordingly. Simple.
If they didn’t, it was my fault and nobody else’s. I didn’t understand the problem well enough. I didn’t understand their needs, wants or desires properly. I didn’t understand their constraints. I didn’t understand their perspective. I didn’t understand their context. It wasn’t their fault I wasn’t good enough, yet.
Most importantly, I didn’t understand what words they already used to describe their problems, their needs, their constraints, and their solutions. Instead of trying to use their words, I used my words.
Often it wasn’t that I didn’t understand them or their problem; it was that I didn’t have the words or ability to properly communicate with them. That wasn’t their fault, it was mine. I didn’t know their internal languages — the words they used to understand things. I knew my words, not theirs.
So I kept listening and seeking understanding — from them, from everyone, about everything — and I kept practicing my words. The more I did this, the more I realized that’s all I needed to do. Listen and practice. Listen and practice. Listen and practice.
Welcome to my practice of unity (yoga, in Sanskrit). See more about the idea of unity — yoga, bayanihan spirit, and other concepts in our varied languages.
I’ve never written about it. I’ve never sold it. I’ve never shared it unless asked.
If you invite me to, I’ll come to you and share what I can.
I practice the unity of my body, mind and spirit; myself with others; myself with the higher power; myself with nature; and the unity of ideas. I practiced day after day, step after step, becoming unity itself, pursuing singularity, step after step.
The foundations of my practice are the self-mastery of my dos and do-nots, my ethics and my practices, my thoughts and my deeds; then mastery of my body and breath through repetitively pushing their limits; followed by mastery of my mind through focus and sense-withdrawal (silence, stillness, listening, emptiness, openness); followed by integration through rest, reflection and study — which leads toward super-consciousness, the ability to converse with the wisdom of the universe. It’s 99% practice, 1% theory. It’s not something I go to classes for or do sometimes; it’s the way I live, all day, every day, inner-dancing my way through life.
You can practice alongside me, easy. Every morning, build your personal practice. Alongside brushing your teeth, having a coffee and pooping: meditate, work on your mastery of body and breath, work on your mastery of mind, your mastery of knowledge by reading, practice your skills, be grateful, touch grass, watch the sunrise, drink more water, listen to good-vibes music, dance, face your fears and overcome them with love. Seek discomfort. Help others. Before breakfast.
Then, throughout your day, continue your practice. Connect with others. Connect with nature. Gather with us in our parks and on our beaches at sunrise and at sunset. Serve others. Improve yourself and the world around you. Deploy your organization’s people and resources towards making Toronto better.
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned: Change the World. Have Fun. Make Money. In that order. First, figure out how to improve your community and the world around you. Then, ensure you are having fun and connecting with others and enjoying yourself. The money will come, if it’s needed — which it isn’t.
What we all really want is connection. That’s our deepest desire. Connection to each other. Connection to nature.
The opposite of addiction is not sobriety — it’s connection, as Johann Hari puts it. Connecting with others is purpose. Helping others — even just by smiling, listening, holding the door open — is making the world a better place.
Be the change you want to see in this world.
Be the end to loneliness by listening to others.
Be the end to homelessness by finding people shelter.
Be the end to unhappiness by spreading joy and good vibes.
Wear your tribe — make it easy for us to identify you and what you stand for. Literally: wear a green flag if you’re open to people connecting with you. Wave it big and proud.
Wear a T-shirt offering free hugs. Hang a tag on your backpack offering thirty minutes of your time to listen to anyone. Carry a speaker respectfully playing The Script, Trevor Hall, Lukis Mac, Avicii, Gone Gone Beyond, Florence + The Machine, Matisyahu, Bob Marley — whatever good vibes you feel like spreading. Host a meetup in the park. Hang a banner of love from your balcony.
Be a joiner. Find people who like the things you like, and do those things with them.
Find your tribe. Build your tribe. Connect maps Toronto’s tribes — find yours, or put yours on the map.
It’s not that difficult. Just KISS — keep it simple.
This is how we practice unity (yoga) together and change the world — by changing our home, first.
I love you, I am sorry, please forgive me, and thank you. This is ho’oponopono, the Hawaiian practice of making things right — my favourite mantra, and the sound of millions of my steps.
I love you, Toronto, for raising me. When there was no love at home, there were the libraries, the ravines, and the TTC.
I am sorry it took me so long to come home, and that all I wanted to do was leave when I got back. I am so sorry it took me so long to figure this all out.
Please forgive me for all the suffering I’ve been unable to prevent.
Thank you for keeping me safe and teaching me so much; I still have so much to learn. My greatest fear is that someone will try to kill me — sadly, it happens regularly to people like me. I hope you’ll pray for my safety, and for the people I love.
Have faith in yourselves. Trust yourselves. You’ve been training your entire life for this.
Now, please get to work → Connect. Organize. Assemble. Listen, then talk, then listen again. Learn. Read more of our best books. Research our best ideas. Ask. Inquire. Seek understanding. Solve problems. Start small and scale. Commit. Collaborate. Cooperate. Produce. Share, spread and spore. Replicate and fork. Learn how to use our best tools and technologies. Step up and run as a candidate in the 2026 elections — nominations close August 21, four days from this writing. I’m only one person, and I want to do what I do best — observe, listen, and learn. Invite me in.
—The Unknown Soldier