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Shhhh! Digital Media
Brian Joseph Johns
Introduction
This new series from Shhhh! Digital Media is all about exploring the worlds of Shhhh! Digital Media through a variety of sometimes unconnected stories, each involving characters both unknown and unfamiliar, and those well known through every series, book or short story that has appear in a Shhhh! Digital Media story, novella or book.
You'll read (and listen to via our new audiobook format) a new story as often as I can pound them out, each exploring aspects of the tapestry woven here throughout the existing story lines, and new stories yet to have been written. This includes other series such as We Who Stand On Guard and Night Boat, as well as the more familiar fare of Butterfly Dragon and Tales of the Sanctum.
When I say variety, I mean to the extremes and even beyond, though in any case, I will always provide a warning when the content is explicit in one way or another. Believe me, we'll be exploring a wide variety of existentialism and other edges of the universe I've yet to delve into with this episodic journey.
I hope that the cover art isn't too misleading as this series won't necessarily be focused on what's depicts in it. There will be every extreme and everything in between. Hopefully, you'll be surprised in some way by every new story in this series.
So strap yourselves in and enjoy the ride.
In this first story, the more astute of you might recognize the intro to this one from an unfinished from many years ago and you'd be absolutely correct in your assumption. This is a sub-plot story I've always wanted to continue, but given the demand for other content and the time constraints and pressure upon producing that content, never could. So I've adapted it to a stand alone story, that involves the two protagonists, who embark together upon a unique journey that is a tribute to the Indigenous people of North America and specifically those here in my home country of Canada.
I hope that you enjoy it.
Brian Joseph Johns
Dedicated to the peoples of the First Nations. We as Canadians truly hope that they can find reconciliation in the fact that like Askuwheteau, they are the scouts of our nation's future. A future that includes us all.
I must add however, that this story is also dedicated to the late Graham Greene, who inspired in many ways, the vision of the character Askuwheteau.
Shhhh! Digital Media Presents:
Grand Tapestry Of Moments 01 - Paskus Maskwa: Rising Bear
Broken Trail
Pasky (a nickname given to him by his coworkers) sat behind a large oak desk, an open laptop before him. Behind him the vast Calgary skyline stretched out into the distance, the heights pocked with office towers, each reaching for its piece of the sky like totems in the wind.
As he carefully typed, he looked to a family photograph on his desk. His wife, Felicia stood poignantly by his side, their two children Sandra and Gordon before them.
"...and to let you know how essential you've been in the success of this project..." he spoke aloud as he typed.
He'd met Felicia ten years earlier at a convention in Toronto. The firm for whom he worked now had been presenting a number of lectures in their mutual field. At that time he'd been working in the office, mostly in research and fact gathering for one of the senior consultants. They'd brought him to show him the ropes and to have a gopher at their disposal. He'd been humble about the whole affair, understanding fully well that he had to start from the bottom and work his way up.
Felicia was still a student at that time, working part-time for the convention center while she studied her way to a Bachelor's degree while living in the Roncesvale district of Toronto. They met by a series of bizarre coincidences that had begun with one of the senior consultants having realized he'd forgotten all of the ID badges for his employees back in Calgary.
Pasky had been sent to clean up the situation and to get them a replacement set of badges so as to prevent there from being any embarrassing moments during the convention. Security was reasonably tight and provided by a third party that was known for its strictness. Also, given the nature of what their firm actually did, security was of great importance for them as well. Their firm was responsible for the geological and environmental impact assessments for the resource extraction projects of their clients. Their activities tended to draw a lot of attention from environmentalists, hence security was of a high priority.
So he first found his way to the security office where they directed him to the clerks of the convention center. From there he was directed up the chain of command until he'd eventually found the office of the person who could most directly help him. When he arrived at the door, he found a written note claiming that the person whose office this was would be away on sick leave until a week in the future.
Felicia just happened to be at her cubicle in the office, on the phone with one of the clients for the convention, handling one of their issues when she sighted Pasky. She was immediately taken by him, and how cute he looked in his shirt and tie, both of which were somewhat crooked on his large First Nations frame. She quickly talked her way through the client's problem and was off the phone before Pasky had a chance to slip away.
"Can I help you?" she yelled to him as he was about to disappear from her life out through the office front door.
Pasky looked confused for a moment, looking around and then saw Felicia looking over the top of her cubicle. She had long auburn hair and piercing deep brown eyes and though she was barely made up, her lips and features stood out even from across the room. Her lips and eyes contrasting her fair skin.
"...uhhh... hi? I need a full set of security badges for my staff... One of our consultants seems to have forgotten them back home..." he said, looking between her and his paperwork as he approached, perhaps shyly trying to hide behind it.
"Let me see..." she said accepting his paperwork.
She quickly found the letterhead and searched the client database for that company name. A moment later she had their records up on her screen, and his his face was amongst the pictures for their security records.
"Looks like you're good. Unless you're a shape changer?" she asked him playfully.
"Me. No. Something a part of my father's folklore, but certainly not mine..." he winked at her, trying to distance himself from his ancestry.
"You too eh?" Felicia asked him, catching him off guard.
"What do you mean?" he asked her curiously, a smile on his face.
"Well my parents wanted me to go the whole nine yards with religion and everything. They weren't too happy about my seeking an education, or to find out that I was working as a nude model for sculptors, painters and other artists... to pay for my school supplies of course..." she blurted out purposely attempting to make him blush.
"That certainly... would have been something to see... so what happened?" he responded nervously adjusting his tie.
"With my parents or my modeling?" Felicia asked him.
"Both?" he asked her, sincerely interested.
"I got this job, and I still model on occasion," she replied.
"And your parents?" he asked her.
"That one's going to cost you a dinner," she responded as she clicked her mouse, sending the print job for the security badges to the server queue.
"Alright. How about seven tonight? You pick where, I'll pick you up," Pasky asked her.
"Let me think about it... Uhhhh, alright. That's a date. There's a little restaurant not far from here just off Airport Road. They have a good mix of different food. Should be a good start. I'm Felicia by the way," she responded to him.
"Felicia? Nice name and nice to meet you. I'm Paskus... actually just call me Pasky," he reached over the office barrier and shook her hand.
"Here's your badges Pasky, don't be late tonight," she smiled at him handing him a stack of freshly printed badges and plastic sleeves.
"No need to worry about that. I'll be very early if anything. Should I bring a paint brush and a canvas...?" he smiled and blushed as she watched his departure.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," she responded as he turned to her and waved goodbye.
He'd returned from his past memories and was once again writing his correspondence letter to the office staff when his phone rang. He quickly found his phone beside the laptop and answered it.
"Pasky here," he answered firmly.
"You'd better go down to the front of the building..." his receptionist Nadine advised him.
"Are you kidding me?" Pasky confirmed with her.
"He just got here. If you hurry you might avoid a scene like last time," Nadine urged him to take care of it.
"Alright, I'm on it but this is the absolute last time I deal with this situation. That man can be sooo unreasonable at times!" He stood with the phone still to his face, talking to her as he strode out of his office and by her receptionist station.
He ran out through the front door of their business and to the foyer by elevators. He jumped into the first one on its way down and descended the thirty floors to the main lobby and the street.
He ran as fast as he could, despite his large frame and found his way to the revolving doors. After negotiating them he was outside and running to the bicycle stands where a familiar face stood awaiting him.
"I thought I told you! You can't tie your horse here!" Pasky scolded the older man.
"Why not?" Askuwheteau asked his son.
"Because this isn't for horses! Its for bikes!" Pasky responded, his arms waving wildly as he spoke.
"One rides bikes as they do horses..." Askuwheteau responded with sound logic.
"Yes, but bicycles don't poop!" Pasky shot back at his father.
"What about that one!" Askuwheteau pointed out one of the bikes, a hybrid electric that was leaking oil onto the polished granite flooring surrounding the building.
"That's not poo. That's oil. There's a big difference," Pasky responded.
"I know. We can grow food in poo, but not oil," Askuwheteau reasoned soundly.
"Look, I don't want to get into this with you again. We'll talk right here. What do you want today?" asked Pasky of his estranged father.
"A place to tie and water my horse," Askuwheteau replied.
"...and after that?" Pasky continued, condescending the older man.
"I wanted to talk with my son, Rising Bear," Askuwheteau looked around without looking directly at Pasky.
"I'm right here. So talk!" Pasky stood his ground.
"You're not Rising Bear. You sound like him. You even look like him. But you're not him," Askuwheteau replied to his son.
"You're right! I'm Pasky! Your damned son! You just can't accept that I've gone my own path, dad!" Pasky responded honestly, his voice becoming slightly louder and more pronounced to his father for the first time in a long time.
A smile crossed Askuwheteau's face.
"Now that's my son. Rising Bear," Askuwheteau held up his hands, extending his fingers like the claws of a great bear, a mean grimace stretched across his face.
"Ok, we can talk," Askuwheteau, nudged Otaa Dabun with his elbow as if there were some kind of inside joke between the two.
Otaa Dabun whinnied, rubbing his snout on Askuwheteau's shoulder afterward.
"What do you want?!" Pasky asked his father.
"We need Rising Bear to get us knowledge. Knowledge of the ground and rocks beneath our feet. Knowledge of the weather patterns too. Knowledge of how they relate to one another with recent disasters. Can Rising Bear do this for us?" Askuwheteau asked his son.
"Stop calling me that!" Pasky insisted to his father.
"Why?" asked Askuwheteau.
"That's not my name! I'm Pasku, Pasku Mathews," his son responded.
"That only sounds like your name, but it isn't your name. Your name is Paskus Maskwa: Rising Bear! You are Paskus Maskwa! Seer into the knowledge. Medicine man of the Pikwàkanagàn Algonquins. My son," Askuwheteau plucked at the petals of his son's mind and heart.
"Look dad, the best I can do is tell you that I'm Pasky first, and Rising Bear sometimes. My wife, your daughter-in-law even jokes about that. She tells me I have breath like a Rising Bear first thing in the morning," Pasku admitted to his father.
Otaa Dabun whinnied again, laughing at Pascal's joke, and then became silent when Askuwheteau didn't follow suit.
"We'll start with the knowledge. We need that knowledge. You know as well as do I that something big is happening. You must feel it in your ancestry, for it is a legacy you cannot deny. Your world is calling you, Rising Bear. We need you. I will return in three days time with Otaa Dabun. We will come directly to your office looking for the knowledge," Askuwheteau told him as he mounted Otaa Dabun.
"Don't even attempt to bring the horse inside of the building..." Pascal yelled to his father as he trotted away.
Otaa Dabun then turned around allowing Askuwheteau to face his son from horseback.
"Then meet me here. Three days. Eleven in the morning. Bring coffee and donuts. And water for Otaa Dabun. If wife says Rising Bear has bad breath, remember to brush teeth before bed," Askuwheteau coaxed Otaa Dabun around and rode off onto across the and into an alley, disappearing from sight.
When Pasky went to return to his office, one of the security guards arrived with a shovel and pail before he got to the revolving doors, handing it to him.
"What's that for?" asked Pascal.
"That!" the security guard pointed to a pile of horse poop just beside the bike stands.
"Just like always. The younger generation cleaning up the damned shhhi... er... poop of the older generation..." Pasky set about shoveling the horse manure into the pail.
Coffee and Donuts
In the large bedroom inside of a modest suburban, the growing clutter accumulated as it had every week until cleaning day in the household. A day where the occupants spent the better part of the day doing all the cleaning they'd require to stave off the clutter for another week. Despite their home being much more than what many had, the occupants had worked many hours to accumulate enough for the down payment, leaving little time for each other.
Thankfully however, their invested time had paid off, for the mortgage they'd acquired left them with much smaller monthly installments and consequently, more time for each other. Both were career minded and motivated, and in their early thirties. As professionals in their field, they were on the front doorstep to upper management positions in their respective companies of employ.
Felicia had gone on to get her degree and was now an administrator at GeoStat Global, a subsidiary of GeoEx Global, the company which employed Pasky. She'd managed their massive data center for the last six years and had quickly risen to the position of senior administrator, with only a management position left to achieve in her career path. She, like her husband, was making good income despite the trying economic climate that currently affected the country, but as it was with all challenges, the two had taken on the difficulties directly and had come out on top.
Their children Sandra and Gordon had recently gradutated from kindergarten, an event that Felicia and Pasky had celebrated with them by holding a mini-graduation party. Come September, they'd be starting grade school, attending a local public school where they'd begin a much different journey than the one their father had taken to achieve his acumen and standing in society.
Pasky's path had been a difficult one, despite society's advances with regard to confronting the ignorance and stigmas often associated with his heritage. A heritage that he'd been running from for his entire life. His mother, while she had been alive was a respected member of the
Pikwàkanagàn Algonquins, where she held a position in the tribal council as well as a position clerical management position during the era of its modernization.
His father however was a very different story and one that Pasky had done his best from which to distance himself. His father had abandoned him and his mother, for a life of the ongoing party. For a life of alcohol consumption and constant drunkedness. A life of pursuits of immediate gratification. He'd never laid roots in any one place for long, for when people had come to know him, he'd often be sent from the place in flight and never allowed to return. This is the father that Pasky had known despite his only ever having met him few times over the course of his life. It was an ill repute that influence every decision in Pasky's life and his effort to distance himself from his own ancestry from the moment of his mother's death.
Pasky lay in bed now, a television remote in his hand as he flicked through the channels in search of something to watch, while beside him, Felicia sat reading author Mona Awad on her tablet. A calm night in their community despite it being the same Friday that Askuwheteau had shown up to embarass Pasky at him workplace. Come the upcoming Monday, Pasky would have to meet the man again despite his not having made up his mind as to whether to share the data he'd requested.
"How's the book?" asked Pasky of his wife.
"Its good. Very different," she responded, suddenly drawn out of the fantasy world in her consumption of fiction and the fantasy world of the dream life she'd found with her life partner.
Pasky didn't respond, but instead changed the channel a few more times.
"Something wrong?" Felicia asked him, suddenly aware of her partner's tension.
"No. Just channel surfing..." he lied, another few minutes of silence between them.
"So what was it like?" he continued, very obviously digging at her for something, though at the same time drawing more of her into himself, perhaps to help him with his internal struggle.
"What? What was what like?" she asked him as she continued to read.
"You know. To be naked. In front of everyone. For them to see you as you are?" Pasky asked her thoughtfully.
"Hmmm. Well that's a deep question for a calm Friday night in front of the television," she smiled, turning to face him as she lowered her tablet.
"Seriously. What's it like?" he turned to her, and she could see in his eyes that something was bothering him.
"Well. For one thing, they're artists and most have a very focused and objective attitude towards their subject, but a subjective attitude towards their canvas," she replied to him, and he seemed somewhat puzzled by her response.
"Care to elaborate on that?" he asked her with a beleagered smile on his face.
"Sure, but I think you got that intuitively, but I'll explain it if you'd like?" she responded.
"Could you? I think I need to hear what you're saying, as much as I need to hear your voice," Pasky replied thoughtfully.
"Fair enough. They're not looking at me. They're looking at my form, and this took me a little bit of getting used to, but the two are very different. One is like an outer shell. One percent of me. While the other is the whole, hidden behind the shell. Most artists focus on the posture and especially the eyes, because that's where they get the clues about the ninety-nine percent of the whole, which is what inspires the interpretive nature of subject driven art," Felicia explained to him in the manner of a woman completely comfortable with her nudity and her body.
"So the eyes are the easy way to that ninety-nine percent...?" asked Pasky astutely.
"Absolutely. Its the most obvious way there. But the more courageous? They focus on other cues about that nature, and the real artistic masters can paint the most alluring and daring paintings without the eyes appearing in the painting at all. Van Gogh? Monet? Rembrandt? They did so many times. So, what I'm saying is, that when you're in front of students of art, you're rarely fully exposed," Felicia explained to her husband.
There was another minute of silence between them as they lay there in bed together. A the unfinished page of her reading on her laptop, on her lap. The remote between them now as Pasky's hands found their way behind his head as he pondered his wife's words.
"So what's bothering you?" Felicia continued.
"Him," he responded.
"Your dad?" she asked him.
"He showed up at work today. It was embarassing, not to mention it undermined my credibility significantly with my staff," Pasky spoke, looking off in the direction of nothing in particular but his recall of the day.
"I take it he brought his horse?" confirmed Felicia.
"I had to shovel horse poop from the front of the building in front of the entirety of the security staff. I was the laughing stock of the day," Pasky recalled, shuddering at his memory thereof.
"So what did he want?" Felicia asked him, turning over onto the side of her hips as she leaned back against the headboard of their bed.
"Data," Pasky replied.
"Like, data, data? People? Identity data?" she confirmed with him, as that was a constant threat risk in her field.
"No. Survey data. Geological mostly, but a large swatch of data connected to a biome of wild land just east of
Bracebridge. A wild park of all things.
Bigwind Lake Provincial Park. If I share it with him, that'd be enough grounds to get me fired," Pasky responded to Felicia.
"He's doing this for activists?" she confirmed with him.
"Who knows. He'd do anything to get the money for another bottle, including sell out the environment and his own son. He's the entire reason there is a stigma against the Indigenous peoples. Men like him drink. Other outcast men and women like him are into destructive narcotics. Ĉiᐧpayaᐧpoᐧsw. Evil spirits that infest the body. They're a disgrace. To everyone," Pasky responded.
"Was he drunk when he came to your workplace?" asked Felicia.
"No. I couldn't smell anything on him, but that might be a sign that he's out of money and is looking for a way to get some to pay for it. Booze I mean," Pasky responded.
"So what are you going to do about his request?" asked Felicia of him, trying to diffuse the issue she saw as the most potentially damaging one to his life and future.
"I don't know. What do you think I should do. I'm not asking you because I want to make you responsible for my choices. I'm asking you because I trust you. I trust that instinct and wisdom you seem to possess in droves. I mean, I didn't only marry you because of your curves, which are very tasty I might add," Pasky said to her tactfully.
"I know. We'll get to that. But first, you need to make a choice about this data. Do you share it with him, or do you deny him of it? There is a third choice however," she reminded him, having been actively involved in the security of her company's data since her employ.
"You're a genius. I never thought of that. If he's being so indiscriminant as to use me to pay for his habit, then why shouldn't I use him to get intelligence about the problem?" Pasky suddenly realized the solution to his dilemma thanks to his wife.
"Feed him false data to protect your company's interest, while examining the data he's requesting to learn more about what he's looking for. You're saving everyone and any situation where everyone wins in one form or another, is a good thing," Felicia smiled as she responded.
"You know, I've got a brilliant wife," Pasky rolled over with his large frame and peered at his wife, who batted her eye lashes at him most flirtatiously.
"What are nude model wives for other than solving their family's challenges?" Felicia asked of him, shimmying closer to him as she remained on her side, the two of them focused upon each other.
"So tell me. Was there ever an artist when you were a nude model that truly found that real ninety-nine percent of you?" he asked her.
"I hate to admit it, but yes... there was," she responded, looking depondently off into the distance.
"Who?" Pasky asked her, a slight hint of uncertainty in his eyes.
"A rather charismatic and cute pick-up artist," she replied, returning her gaze to his.
"Who?!!!" Pasky pressed her.
"You," she smiled at him as she moved towards him.
The two of them moved closer and their lips met in a kiss they'd not experienced since they'd first met.
...
The weekend had passed quickly, especially given Pasky's newly found resolve. For him it was a family weekend and one that they'd spent together, even visiting a nearby mini-putt and a Sunday dinner at a nearby restaurant and that was just their Saturday.
Late that same Saturday they as a family cleaned their home from top to bottom before Sandra and Gordon retired for the night, tired from their adventurous day with their family.
On Sunday, Pasky logged into the GeoEx Global intranet and began compiling the data that his father had requested, studying it very carefully as he did. When he was finished this process, he created a fake dataset, based upon what he'd read and then stored it upon a flash drive which he intended to give to his father.
However, his pursuit of this situation did not stop there. He now had a chance to earn credibility within his company of employ, for with his knowledge of this plot, he could pro-actively act as an outside operative of the company and gain valuable intelligence against whatever activist group was attempting to compromise his company's infrastructure. He could use his own father as a weapon against the enemy, as much so as they'd obviously been using his dependency upon alcohol against him for their purposes.
When Monday morning came around and at eleven o'clock, he was waiting outside of the building. He'd even booked the week off for he knew what his father would ask of him next. His plan was as perfect as pursuit of independence of his heritage and culture, for broken himself away from a stigma to which he never belonged.
There he stood. Waiting, with coffee and a box of donuts in hand.
To be continued...
Credits and attribution:
I am a man of the water and a man of the see!
Thank you to the
Pikwàkanagàn Algonquins for their incredible web site, which was a grand reference into the history of their culture and its importance throughout Canada.
I collaborated with
Google Gemini,
Grok and
DeepSeek AI to come up with the title to this brand new episodic content, and all three contributed to the process, yet
DeepSeek somehow managed to do it ever so poetically and with the mind of an artist and writer. We need more poetic thinkers in AI. Think Jodie Foster's enigmatic scene in the movie adaption of Carl Sagan's and Anne Druyan's Contact and you'll know exactly what I mean. In fact, watch the entire movie! The world needs that right now!
Special Thanks To Rocket Fuel Lakeshore Blvd West, perhaps the best place in history to get a coffee, circa 2001-2004. Miss you all very much.
Tools: Daz3D, Corel Painter, Adobe Photoshop, Lightwave 3D, Blender, Stable Diffusion (Easy Diffusion distribution), InstantID, Sadtalker, Google Colaboratory, Microsoft Copilot (Windows 11), Hitfilm, PhotoPea (a great web based Photoshop stand-in if you're on a low budget or in a pinch), Borderline Obsession...
DeepSeek AI for suggestions on exercises to improve aspects of describing scene and settings with a more sensory focused grammar.
InstantID by: Wang, Qixun and Bai, Xu and Wang, Haofan and Qin, Zekui and Chen, Anthony. Research Paper Title: InstantID - Zero-shot Identity-Preserving Generation in Seconds.
Sadtalker by: Zhang, Wenxuan and Cun, Xiaodong and Wang, Xuan and Zhang, Yong and Shen, Xi and Guo, Yu and Shan, Ying and Wang, Fei.
Research Paper Title: SadTalker: Learning Realistic 3D Motion Coefficients for Stylized Audio-Driven Single Image Talking Face Animation.
Gratitude: Our Mentors, Senseis, Sifus, Sebomnims, lifetime inspirations, family, friends, the Nomads (ask Stanton about that one), the Music, the Movies, the Theatre, the Arts, ASMR, (both YouTube and Bilibili and the many other creators on those platforms), the Gaming and Developer communities and of course, the audience.
Martial Arts (in the words of real experts and at least one comedian): https://brucelee.com (home of the real Dragon and an entire family of inspirations), http://iwco.online International Wing Chun Organization (International presence of a very scalable intensity martial art, protected and developed by Shaolin Nun Ng Mui) and the alma mater of Jinn Hua's own specialized variation thereof, https://iogkf.com International Okinawan Goju-Ryu Karatedo Federation (even Hanshi had his teachers), https://itftkd.sport International Taekwondo Federation (Here there be Taegers), https://tangsoodoworld.com Tang Soo Do World (the path of Grandmaster Chuck Norris), https://www.aikido-international.org International Aikido Federation (how else would Navy Chef Steven Seagal liberate a Nimitz Class Aircraft Carrier from a team of hijackers?), https://www.stqitoronto.com Shaolin Temple Quanfa Institute (The City Of Toronto's own Shaolin Temple), https://www.enterthedojoshow.com Master Ken's Ameri-Te-Do presence (If we can't laugh at ourselves, then we can at least laugh the loudest at others, and other Zen)
Magic (performance, illusion and perhaps the real thing): Magic Week Archive (I'm currently growing this section so stay tuned)
Special thanks to Aitrepreneur, Mickmumpitz, Hugging Face and the YouTube educational content producers, including those catering to the AI content production pipeline and of course AlphaSignal.
Shi Heng Yi Shaolin Training For Self Mastery
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
Shi Heng Yi Shaolin Training For Self Mastery
A reknowned Sifu under whose tutelage you can study the theory and practical applications of the Shaolin Arts for health, physical and mental wellbeing in every day life
Jesse Enkamp: Karate Nerd
Jesse, a reknowned Sensei who runs his own dojo, explores the world of Martial Arts, traveling to many exotic locations to meet practitioners of a variety of different arts
Sensei Rokas: Martial Arts Journey
A reknowned Sensei of Aikido who in seeking to understand the roots of Aikido and its applications, seeks to stress test its effectiveness in a number of real world situations while studying its history
Seamus O'Dowd
An extensive growing archive Katas, Techniques and Waza (mostly Shotokan)
Iaido: Train For Katana Mastery Like Samurai
The original weapons focused curriculum under which Samurai became masters of their art
Tapp Brothers Exercise For Better Motion
Extensive courses for calisthenics and body strength, stamina and flexibility
Special thanks to Canva for inspiring other creators and giving them the tools
Special thanks to Captain Crunch and his wonderful sister!
Special thanks to Bandcamp for giving indie music artists a home under one roof
Something to give you perspective: The very first teacher had no formal education, didn't graduate and was self taught, but only because they had no other choice. We do.
This content is entirely produced in Toronto, Ontario, Canada at 200 Sherbourne Street Suite 701 under the Shhhh! Digital Media banner.
