Growing up in the 1980s, I had what most people would probably consider a very unusual dream.

While many kids wanted to be astronauts, rock stars, or professional athletes, I wanted to become a cross between Magnum P.I. and a ninja.

On the surface, those two characters couldn’t have been more different. One was a laid-back private investigator cruising around Hawaii in a Ferrari with an iconic mustache. The other represented discipline, mystery, and ancient martial traditions. Yet, in my young mind, they belonged together.

What fascinated me most about Magnum wasn’t that he solved crimes. It wasn’t the Ferrari or even the Hawaiian shirts.

It was something much quieter.

Throughout the series, Magnum often seemed to have an ongoing conversation with a little voice inside his head. Some people might call it intuition. Others might describe it as higher consciousness or inner guidance. Whatever it was, I found myself captivated by it. He trusted it. He listened to it. More often than not, it steered him in the right direction.

Even as a kid, I wondered what it would be like to strengthen that inner voice.

That curiosity became a desire to learn all of the hidden knowledge. My Escrima-Kali teacher, Nanoi, joked that I had been inducted into the Scroungology Society, symbolized by the octopus with its many tentacles.

Since I wasn’t interested in becoming a detective, I looked elsewhere for answers. Martial arts seemed to offer something much deeper than learning how to fight. Beneath the physical techniques was an entire philosophy centered around awareness, discipline, meditation, and the mastery of mind and body.

I became fascinated by the esoteric teachings behind the martial arts. I wanted to understand concepts like focused intention, energy, presence, and what many traditions refer to as the third eye. I was definitely trying to develop mystical powers. I believed there was a deeper level of perception available to all of us if we learned how to quiet the noise.

The physical training was only one part of the journey.

The inner training was what truly drew me in.

As the years passed, that path naturally evolved into personal training. Helping people improve their physical health was rewarding, but I soon realized that lasting transformation rarely begins with the body alone. Our beliefs, emotions, intuition, and mindset often shape our health just as much as exercise and nutrition.

That realization opened another door.

Over time, I found myself moving toward medical intuitive work, where I began exploring the connections between the body, the mind, and consciousness. Looking back now, it almost feels inevitable.

What started with an admiration for a fictional television character and a fascination with ninjas gradually became a lifelong search for greater awareness.

It’s funny how life works.

As children, we often think we’re simply choosing our heroes. In reality, our heroes are sometimes revealing pieces of who we’re meant to become.

Today, I can smile at the image of that young boy who wanted to blend Tom Selleck’s calm intuition with the quiet wisdom of a ninja. At the time, it seemed like an odd combination.

Those two archetypes taught me that true strength isn’t found in fighting or solving mysteries. It’s found in learning to listen to yourself, trusting your inner guidance, and having the courage to follow where it leads.

That journey has taken me from martial arts to personal training, and ultimately to medical intuitive readings. Although the destination is far different from what I imagined growing up in the 1980s, the path makes perfect sense when I look back.

Today, in North Bay, Ontario, I wake up early in the morning and spend hours paddling my kayak. It’s not quite Hawaii, but it has become my own little sandy paradise.