I grew up here in St. Albert, which is a city just north of

The words of Jarome Iginla—“I grew up here in St. Albert, which is a city just north of Edmonton, and I went to Grade 10 here at Paul Kane High School. But then I went to junior in the WHL, Western Hockey League, at age 16. So I left and went to finish school at Norkam High School in Kamloops for grades 11 and 12.”—at first seem like a simple recollection of youth. Yet beneath their modest surface lies a truth both ancient and enduring: the story of sacrifice, departure, and growth. For in these words, Iginla speaks of a young life torn between the comfort of home and the call of destiny. It is the eternal journey of the soul—from the familiar hearth to the fields of challenge—through which greatness is forged.

In the way of the ancients, we understand that every hero’s path begins with departure. It is the leaving behind of safety that gives meaning to courage. Iginla’s journey from St. Albert, a quiet city where childhood’s roots held fast, to the wider, harsher world of the Western Hockey League, mirrors the archetypal moment when the youth steps beyond the known into the realm of trial. He left at sixteen, not yet a man but no longer a boy, driven by the dream that burns like a sacred flame within the hearts of those called to mastery. Such a departure is not without pain; it demands that one part of the soul—innocence—be sacrificed so that another—strength—may be born.

To leave one’s home at so young an age is to face the truth of growth: that to fulfill one’s purpose, one must sometimes walk away from the warmth of the familiar. The ancients taught this through story. Telemachus, the son of Odysseus, left Ithaca in search of news of his father, guided by Athena, the goddess of wisdom. Though he left behind his mother’s sorrow, he gained the wisdom and courage that would one day allow him to stand beside his father as an equal. In this same spirit, Iginla’s leaving for Kamloops was more than a change of schools—it was the first step in the making of a man who would one day lead teams, win medals, and inspire generations. The boy who left St. Albert returned to the world as one of the most respected figures in the history of hockey.

His mention of the two high schools—Paul Kane and Norkam—is not trivial. They mark the two pillars of transformation: the foundation and the ascent. The first school was the soil in which his roots grew—the place of identity, friendship, and early lessons. The second was the mountain, the proving ground where his roots were tested by wind and distance. Between them lies the line that divides childhood from adulthood, a crossing that every person must make in their own way. For some, it is the pursuit of art, for others, duty or love. For Iginla, it was the pursuit of excellence, the discipline of hockey that would demand from him both body and soul.

Yet Iginla’s recollection is not one of arrogance or self-praise. It is spoken with humility, as though the journey were simply the way of things—as though every young person must, in their own time, answer a calling that takes them away from home. There is wisdom in that humility. He does not romanticize hardship, but he honors it. He remembers where he came from and acknowledges what he left behind. The virtue of remembrance is one the ancients held dear: to achieve greatness yet remain rooted in gratitude is the mark of true nobility. In remembering St. Albert, he honors the soil that nourished his beginnings; in mentioning Kamloops, he honors the fire that shaped his future.

This story of a boy who left home at sixteen also speaks to the discipline of purpose. In every age, there are those who dream but never move, who long but never act. Iginla’s journey teaches that dreams demand movement—that belief without courage is a flame without oxygen. The road to mastery begins the moment one steps forward, even when fear whispers of loss. It is easy to stay where one is safe; it is divine to risk one’s comfort for the promise of growth. The ancients would have called this the path of the warrior, not because it involves violence, but because it requires inner strength—the will to train, to fail, to rise again.

Let this be the lesson passed to all who hear these words: when the time comes to leave the familiar, do not turn away. Every departure contains a hidden blessing, every sacrifice a hidden gain. The home you leave is not lost—it lives within you, as the root lives within the tree that climbs toward the sun. Remember where you began, but never let where you began define where you end. Walk with courage, as Jarome Iginla did, and let your journey become your teacher.

For in the end, every life is a passage—from youth to maturity, from safety to strength, from home to the boundless unknown. And the measure of one’s greatness is not in how far one travels, but in how faithfully one carries the spirit of home along the way.