Life of Canyon

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Who is Canyon?

(slideshow)- Pictures and videos of me

(Bio of me) Description

Maui, Hawaii – “I am John”

I had just moved to Maui, Hawaii—living off-grid on a fruit farm in the middle of the jungle. Just me and one other guy named Comet. No electricity. No car. Just a cabin in the woods surrounded by exotic fruits. We were living life. One day, we decided to head to the other side of the island to a really cool beach we had heard of. The problem was—we had no way to get there. So what did we do? We threw our thumbs in the air and tried hitchhiking for the very first time. At first it felt awkward as hell. We laughed at ourselves, stuck our thumbs up timidly, then higher, and started to dance. After making fun of ourselves for a bit, we fully committed. Finally, a truck pulled over. We hopped in the back, and off we went.The drive across the island takes about 2.5 hours—but it took us 11 different rides to get to our destination. We jumped in and out of pickups, vans, and strangers' cars, getting further with every lift. We were wild and free, carrying nothing but two days’ worth of food and our essentials. By sundown, we finally arrived at the beach. It was stunning. Quiet. Magic. We built a small fire and fell asleep right there in the sand, with the ocean rocking us to sleep.But when I opened my eyes the next morning—everything changed. My backpack was gone. And inside that backpack? My iPhone. My GoPro. My wallet. And the most sacred thing I owned: my journal. Not just any journal—the one from my walk across America. Every mile. Every moment. My whole journey—documented in those pages. I freaked out. Woke Comet up in a panic. He tried to calm me down, but I couldn’t even breathe. He told me, “It has to be around here somewhere!” “We slept on the beach. WHERE COULD I HAVE LOST IT?” I yelled.Then I remembered—Find My iPhone. I had just bought the phone a week earlier, but thank God I had set up the account. I logged in, and there it was—pinging 2 miles down the beach. And if you’ve ever been to Hawaii, you know that sometimes full-blown homeless villages pop up in the middle of nowhere. Without thinking, I started running. I didn’t know what I was about to walk into. But I knew one thing: I was getting my stuff back—no matter what.The phone led me to a cluster of tents on the edge of the beach. I crept in closer, heart pounding. I narrowed it down to two tents and activated the alarm. I heard the beeping—it was coming from the one on the left. I unzipped the flap. It looked empty. I stepped inside. And then—beneath me—something moved. “Hey, who’s that?” a voice mumbled. A man was lying there, half-conscious, clearly high on something. “It’s John,” I said, quick and calm. “I’m just looking for my stuff.” His tone wasn’t hostile. He just said, “Sometimes my uncle brings stuff here and leaves it.”I spotted my backpack. My phone. My GoPro. My wallet. But the one thing I couldn’t find… my journal. I asked him about it. He kept saying he didn’t know. I kept searching. Then I noticed a little bowl on the floor—he’d been smoking. So I made a deal: “If you help me find this journal, I’ll come back with some weed for you.” His whole body perked up like a spirit entered him. He smiled. And he said, “Sometimes my uncle throws things in the woods… over there.” He pointed behind the tent.I walked outside, into the trees. And there it was—laying peacefully in the grass like it had never been touched. My journal. Every single thing I thought was gone forever—was now back in my hands. No fight. No conflict. Just... returned. I walked back across the sand in shock. A minute ago, I was ready for war. And now, I had everything back like it was never stolen. On my way back, I saw massive sea turtles sunbathing near the shore—like something out of a cartoon. The colors were brighter. The air was sweeter. It felt like a dream.But I had made a deal with that man. And no matter what he had done—I was a man of my word. So I walked the 2 miles back to our campsite, took some weed from my friend, and walked it all the way back the 2 miles to the man who stole my stuff. Comet and I then grabbed all of our things and hitchhiked our way back to our place on the other side of the island.One month later, Comet and I were on a beach—50 miles away from where it all happened. And out of nowhere, a man walked toward us. Fresh shoes. New clothes. Chain around his neck. NYC hat on his head. He walked right up to us, smiled, and said: “Hey John… nice weather today, huh?” Then turned. Walked away. Never seen again. Comet and I looked at each other, stunned, and then laughed. “Did that guy just call you John?”

Moonrise Festival – God’s Humor

August 13, 2018. A friend of my sister’s once told me that God would answer all my questions on this date. At the time, I was drifting—questioning God, questioning everything. My sister had recently rededicated her life to Christ, and I couldn’t help but feel left behind. I’d tried for years to be the “good Christian,” but God had always felt distant, silent.That night, I went to Moonrise Festival in West Baltimore. A girl I’d met on Bumble invited me. I showed up, not really knowing what I was walking into. Her friends were all doing molly. I wasn’t. I already felt out of sync. Soon, I was just a third wheel—wandering through the noise and lights, unsure why I was even there.And then I met Cat. She lit up the entire place. It was like I already knew her. She saw me instantly—not just with her eyes, but with her spirit. We talked about God, the universe, and what it means to search. She told me something that cracked me wide open: “If something feels good to your soul, chances are it is good. Chances are that it’s God leading you.” No one had ever made my spiritual search feel sacred before. Until her.Eventually, I went back to the girl I came with. But it didn’t feel right anymore. I couldn’t stop thinking about Cat. So I left again to find her—and somehow, out of thousands of people, I did. We talked, we explored, we got lost in something that felt ancient and important. But near the end of the night, her phone was stolen. We checked lost and found, walked to her car, and she waited while I grabbed my things from my date’s car.My date was livid. Rightfully so. She cussed me out as I walked away. And when I got back to where Cat was waiting… she was gone. Her car was gone. Just like that. I stood in the parking lot expecting her to return. But she didn’t. One by one, the cars disappeared. Until I was the only one left. Covered in glitter, wearing a skittle-colored shirt, standing alone in the middle of West Baltimore at 2 a.m.A cop pulled up. He looked at me and asked, “You know where you are?” I told him I was just waiting for someone. He said, “You’re in the murder capital of the world. And you’re at ground zero.” I asked if I could use his phone or get a ride. He said no. And just like that, I was completely alone. No phone. No ride. No one to call.I was pissed. Furious, even. I looked up at the sky and asked God if this was some cosmic joke. “Is this how You answer people? By giving them a glimpse of something divine and then pulling it away?” Eventually, I started walking back toward the venue. My only options were to sleep inside the festival grounds or find someone—anyone—who could help.As I walked, I saw a wire sticking out of the sand. It was attached to a portable charger. I plugged it in—and my dead phone turned on. I laughed out loud. Was this divine comedy? A miracle? It felt too perfect not to be. I walked to the entrance and met a man sitting there. I told him everything. He said, “I’m from West Baltimore, and I wouldn’t send my worst enemy out there alone.” He told me to pull up a chair. So I did.My phone had just enough charge to scroll through memories—trying to think of someone I could call. Then I remembered my ex-girlfriend’s sister’s ex-boyfriend. The only person I knew in Baltimore. I called. He picked up. “I normally wouldn’t answer a 3 a.m. call,” he said, “but I had to know who was calling me this late.” Fifteen minutes later, he picked me up and let me crash on his couch. My sister picked me up the next morning.It wasn’t the answer I expected from God. But it was an answer. Sometimes God doesn’t show up in a thunderclap. Sometimes He shows up in a stranger’s kindness. In a lost charger in the sand. In the glitter, in the waiting, in the places you least want to be. That night, I got exactly what I needed. And it changed everything.