Today, I turn 60 years old, and as I reflect on my life, I can’t help but marvel at the twists, turns, heartbreaks, and blessings that have shaped me into the man I am.

I was born on September 2, 1964, in Beirut, Lebanon. My mother, Patricia, was a dancer and a costume designer with an eye for beauty and creativity. My father, Samuel, was a geologist — a man of science, but also a man with his own struggles. When I was just three years old, my father left us. From that moment on, it was just my mother and me, navigating the world together.

My childhood was anything but stable. We moved constantly — first Hawaii, then Australia, then New York, and eventually Canada. Each new city brought fresh faces, strange accents, and a new school to adjust to. But Toronto, Canada, would become the place where we finally put down roots.

In Toronto, my mother immersed herself in the rock and roll scene, designing costumes for legendary musicians. This strange and glamorous world meant that I sometimes found myself in unusual situations — like being babysat by Alice Cooper when I was a boy. Imagine that — your childhood caretaker wearing eyeliner and leather, telling you bedtime stories.

School was never easy for me. I struggled to fit in, often clashing with teachers and rules. I was expelled from more schools than I can count — four in total — before I finally dropped out at 17. At the time, I was chasing a different dream: acting. But before that, I had another passion — ice hockey. I played as a goalie and even considered trying out for Canada’s Olympic team. By the time I was 15, though, I knew my heart belonged to acting.

I was named after my uncle, Henry Keanu Reeves. “Keanu” means “fresh breeze over the mountains” in Hawaiian — a name that has followed me like a whisper of destiny. My heritage is a mix of worlds: my mother is English, while my father’s roots span Chinese-Hawaiian, English, Irish, and Portuguese descent. Still, my heart and my identity are firmly Canadian.

At 19, I packed my bags and moved to Los Angeles to chase my dream. My early work was humble — commercials, short films, and small parts. My first appearance in a studio film came in Youngblood (1986), where I played a hockey goalie — a role that felt almost too fitting. But my real breakthrough came with Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Nobody expected it to be such a hit, but its success put me on the map.

The real turning point, though, was Speed in 1994. That film didn’t just boost my career — it changed my life. After that, I had the freedom to be selective, choosing roles in both big blockbusters and small, experimental projects that spoke to my heart.

But acting wasn’t my only creative outlet. From 1991 to 2002, I was the bassist for the band Dogstar. We shared the stage with legends like Bon Jovi, Rancid, and Weezer, touring across the US and Asia. Music was raw, imperfect, and alive — and it gave me a different kind of fulfillment.

One of the deepest friendships of my life was with River Phoenix. We met on a film set, and I instantly knew he was a rare soul. When I read the script for My Own Private Idaho, I knew River had to play the role. Without hesitation, I jumped on my motorcycle and rode over 1,000 miles just to hand him the script and convince him. It was worth every mile.

Sixty years is a long time to live — long enough to see success, failure, love, grief, and healing. My life has been a patchwork of loss and luck, hard lessons and unexpected gifts. And through it all, I’ve tried to keep my heart open, my feet grounded, and my gratitude alive.

Read more about the beautiful journey…