The tagline is “Good advice shouldn’t be a luxury.” That is the public version. Here is the real one.
Someone in my extended family posted on Facebook recently about having to choose between paying their hydro bill and buying groceries that month. I am not going to say who. It does not matter who. What matters is that I have seen that post, or some version of it, more times than I want to count. And every time I see it, something in me has to decide what to do about it.
I can reach into my pocket. I do, sometimes. But I cannot do that every time, for everyone, indefinitely. That is not a solution. That is a pressure valve.
So I started asking a different question. What would actually help? Not just this month. What would help the person who cannot afford a nutritionist, a personal trainer, a sleep specialist, a financial planner, a real estate advisor? What would help them make a better decision in the specific situation they are actually in, not a generic situation a textbook imagined for them?
That question is what built Canada With Purpose.
What it is and what it is not.
Canada With Purpose is a family of personalized planning tools. Right now there are six of them live: meal plans, dog training plans, workout programs, garden plans, sleep resets, and wedding roadmaps. Each one costs CA$20, paid once. You answer specific questions about your situation, your goals, your context. A plan arrives in your inbox in minutes, built around the details you actually gave.
It is not a subscription. It is not a platform that upsells you into a premium tier. It is not adapted from American content and quietly hoping you do not notice the difference. It is built for Canadian conditions, Canadian grocery prices, Canadian hardiness zones, Canadian winters and schedules and lives.
Twelve more sites are coming. Selling a home. Renovating. Retiring. Budgeting. Navigating a divorce. Quitting something. Decluttering. Packing for a move. Menopause. Freelancing. Building a network. Every one of them is an area where the professional version costs more than most people can reasonably spend, and the free version is too generic to be genuinely useful.
The filter I use to decide what to build.
There is no formal framework for which products make the cut. The question I ask is simple: if I were in their shoes, would I want access to this?
If the answer is no, I do not build it. If the answer is yes, and I can see a version that costs twenty dollars instead of four hundred, I start building.
That is the whole process. It is not a market sizing exercise. It is not a TAM calculation. It is a question about whether the thing is actually worth building for the people it is supposed to serve.
I am aware that is not how most operators think about portfolio decisions. I am also aware that most operators are not thinking about the person choosing between their hydro bill and their groceries. I am not saying that makes me a better operator. I am saying it makes me a different one, with different inputs going into the build decisions.
Why 18 and not one.
The obvious question is why build a portfolio at all. Most operators find one product that works and scale it.
The honest answer is that I am not trying to scale one thing. I am trying to reach as many different people as possible in the specific moments when they need something they cannot otherwise afford. The person who needs a meal plan is not the same person who needs a wedding roadmap. The person navigating a divorce is not the same person who just got their first dog.
If I build one product, I reach one type of person. If I build eighteen, I have a reasonable chance of being there for someone in whatever the hard moment happens to be for them.
The other honest answer is that I am creative, and I have been lucky enough to spend twenty-plus years developing skills and access to technology that most people do not have. What is the point of that, if I do not use it to benefit people who are less fortunate? That question does not have a business case answer. It just has an answer.
What the tagline actually means.
“Good advice shouldn’t be a luxury” is a clean positioning line. It communicates the value proposition, it fits on a homepage, and it is true.
It is also a pretty face on what is otherwise a sad motivator. The real version of that sentence is something like: someone I care about had to choose between keeping the lights on and feeding their family, and I have the skills to build something that helps people in that position, so I am building it.
I do not lead with that version in the marketing because it is not what someone needs to hear when they are deciding whether to spend twenty dollars on a meal plan. But it is what is underneath every build decision, every domain purchase, every hour spent getting a webhook to fire correctly at midnight.
Where it goes from here.
The twelve remaining sites will be built. After that, the plan is to expand the model to the United States, Australia, and the United Kingdom. Canadian conditions are specific, but the underlying problem, that genuinely useful personalized advice is priced out of reach for a significant portion of the population, is not uniquely Canadian.
There is also a longer version of this idea that I am still working out. More tools. More areas of life. More situations where the professional version costs more than it should and the people who need it most are the ones least able to pay for it.
I do not know how far it goes. I know why it started.