HOW SIMPLY SHUTTING UP FOR THREE MONTHS AND WALKING WELL OVER 600 MILES TRANSFORMED MY LIFE
BY D G Marshall FROM TORONTO LIFE
AS LONG AS I CAN REMEMBER, my mouth has been getting me into trouble. Growing up, I would say anything to get a laugh, no matter how crude or cutting. I used the gift of the gab to get what I wanted from my parents (money, a later curfew) and to get out of what I didn’t want (chores, groundings). I was asked to leave four different schools, mostly because I talked too much, and every one of my report cards said some variation of the same thing: I’d do much better if I would just shut up.
My mouth may have served me terribly as a student, but it set me up perfectly for a career in radio. In 2003, I launched a talk show on an AM station in the Toronto area. I would ask people about their religious beliefs and the role faith played in their lives. In my 16 years hosting the show, I interviewed rabbis, nuns, witches, Wiccans and Satanist high priests, and had celebrities, politicians, religious leaders and spiritual gurus share the “why” behind their beliefs.
I think the show succeeded because it engaged people who don’t usually listen to religious radio—people like me. After growing up in a churchgoing household and eventually becoming a pastor, I slowly began to reject organised religion. Still, I was fascinated by others’ beliefs.
Consumed by the need to understand the unknown, I travelled the world in search of answers. I prayed among ancient petroglyphs in Australia, slept at Stonehenge in England and wept at the Holocaust memorial in Jerusalem. I thought I’d find some divine truth if I visited all the sacred sites and interviewed every spiritual leader.
But the only truth I discovered was this: I was a selfish, egotistical, judgemental jerk. It hit me when I was close to turning 50 and almost every significant relationship in my life was in tatters. My wife of 28 years wanted a divorce. My kids weren’t my biggest fans, and when I asked my daughter what I was doing wrong, she told me she didn’t have enough time to explain it all.
I knew this much: the hunt for transcendence made me unbearable. I prioritised my radio-show guests, with whom I might spend an hour, over the people who meant the most to me. I was constantly tearing into anyone whom I perceived as less enlightened than I was. Profanity and sarcasm were my default modes of communication. I drank too much and listened too little. I was miserable, as was everyone caught in my caustic orbit.
My school report cards had been right—I’d do a lot be
