Glenford Canning

I I’m a believer in the healing power of sharing. I’ve shared Rehtaeh’s story far and wide, and that in turn opened the door for me to share the trauma from my own childhood. Sharing helps by allowing other people to venture into my past so I no longer feel alone there. It doesn’t erase anything, but it certainly changes the weight I’ve carried.

I was sharing the other night with a men’s group when I told them I made bread and found the process therapeutic, as was the joy that came with sharing what I created. Truly, I beamed when that loaf came out of the oven looking the way it did, and I know there’s grounding in making bread.

It’s a step-by-step process. There’s mixing and measuring and timers, and brother, the smell of freshly baked bread is an evolutionary time machine.

Let’s face it, in today’s world there’s not a whole lot of hunting and gathering going on, but you can still connect to a time older than yourself. “Bread is totally analog,” according to Globe and Mail food critic Chris Nuttall-Smith. I love how that sounds. Anything analog in this digital wasteland is a good thing, especially for someone needing a moment to escape.

And bread is truly prehistoric, dating back roughly 14,400 years to a hunter-gatherer site in Jordan’s Black Desert. Bread-making predates the emergence of agriculture by 4,000 years, with early humans creating flatbread from wild grains and roots. Bread became central to the formation of early human societies, so there’s a lineage in it, a simple, human continuity.

When I bake bread, I feel connected to a past bigger than my own—something collective and enduring. I know the effort will be as nourishing for my body as it will be for my soul. Breaking bread is about companionship. The term ‘breaking bread’ means to share a meal, and it symbolizes peace, community, and trust.

The best part of making bread is breaking bread at the end. Being able to break the bread I made with someone I care about is the purest form of living in the moment I can imagine. Something delicious for what matters most.

Telling my story has been a form of breaking bread. It’s an offering. Me saying, “This is what happened. You’re welcome to sit with me in it.” Not everyone will accept, but when someone does—and they listen and understand—it creates the same feeling as sharing a meal.

The act surrounding making bread is about companionship and, for a moment, a reminder you’re not alone and the world is okay. There’s healing if you let it come.

Here’s a bread recipe that makes a decent loaf of bread. This is an easy recipe, so easy I made it once and didn’t need to look up the recipe a second time. This is my go-to bread recipe, and it’s easy to spice it up with a little honey or herbs once it comes easy.

In a nutshell, make the yeast, mix all the ingredients, let the dough sit for a couple hours, fold it, bake in an iron pot at 450°F for 30 minutes, remove the lid, and bake it for another 15 minutes.