I wrote this during the winter of 2024. Let this be an interlude into the rest of your life. Or a pause before the release. Or a moment before demolition and rebuild. A final reminder to not worry, for there is nowhere to be and nothing to fear.

This poem I wrote for myself and that I hope you enjoy. This poem I wrote for my future self…for at some point, when I can have a real conversation with my kids, they have already left, out in the world writing their own great story. Your mother and I bid you good luck and our best.

I love you.

You are ready.

Not a worry in the world.

not a worry in the world.

as snow blankets the roads.

do you hear it?

the sounds you forgot were there.

the dreams you left behind.

the future growling in the distance.

silence. the moment. the river. the birds chirping.

your own private orchestra.

not a worry in the world.

-Molesy

I take a bow and say, go fuck yourself.

love the game.

enjoy the journey.

stop overthinking.

don’t be so hard on yourself.

shoot for the moon & hit the stars.

work hard, play hard.

trust yourself.

learn from others.

falling in love is magical.

have faith in the hard times.

take the trip.

connect with old friends.

rest, breathe.

life isn’t all about money.

there is no blueprint.

success is a matter of momentum.

smile, Molesy.

don’t spend so much time planning or in the future.

love yourself.

nowhere to be & nothing to fear.

focus on the good / positive.

manifest your dreams.

listen to your body.

life is built at the extremes. moderation in extremes.

think long term.

take care of your body, love your people.

find your life force through writing & meditation.

ride the wave.

have fun.

having kids is a miracle.

hockey is the greatest sport in the world.

the simple moments are some of my favorites.

i am so proud of myself.

— Molesy

It is a beautiful Saturday today. I took my kid for a e-bike ride and just put him down for a nap so I figured I would write a quick update. The dream of writing a book is becoming a reality.

I started this blog with the hopes that it would become a book but had no idea how. Well i started and you can’t start unless you start. I showed up everyday and the pieces molded together. But creating this book also took a village. I am thankful for all my friends and family. I am thankful to my close friends who are helping me with final photography and design work to create a timeless piece.

Here is the pitch - it is a coffee table book you actually want to pick up and read.

Timeline - Launch limited edition line July 2026

What will this blog turn into? Well after I finish this book I will be washed up again. Again, it will be time to start from the bottom of the mountain. Time to roll the boulder back up the hill. Time to catch another wave. Time to write the next chapter of this wonderful adventure.

happy easter and much love,

-Molesy

I heard something recently that when someone close to you dies, they give their strength to someone who is worthy. After that warm summer day on July 25th, 2014, it seemed my dad passed me the strength to create the kind of life I wanted for myself. Or so I thought…

I am currently writing at one of my favorite coffee shops in the Columbia Gorge. The sun is shining, the river is calm, spring is here. A woman laughs and throws a stick for her dog in the water, a random man bravely shares his poetry with me, the barista crafts the perfect latte…it’s peaceful.

I can’t say I was at peace after my dad died. Yes there were good times and fleeting moments of peace, but a fire raged inside of me. No one else saw it, nor did I let them and that only enlarged the fire. I guess this is where this book was born. It was born from a place of desperation to put the fire inside me out.

It wasn’t my father who gave me the strength to get through these thirteen years since his passing. It was inside me all along. I did it. I created the life for myself.

Just as I was writing this final letter, a great blue heron came flying along the river. I paused and watched it find a place to rest. For those that don’t know, I like to imagine that it is my dad spirit animal. I have spotted a blue heron at pivotal points in my life. One actually likes to hang out on our property’s pond. I’ve spoken about the Blue Heron’s meaning in my letter - evolve. Maybe I didn’t do alone.

I didn’t know what writing this book was going to uncover, but it has been an evolving process for myself. Creating this book pushed me to my limit and at points it has been some of the hardest times of my life.

I’ve talked about God a few times in these letters and even portrayed my dad has my god. But it seems suffering causes a search for god. Or as Will Durant puts, as long as there is poverty there will be religion. External and internal suffering and poverty creates a god. But if we can get to a place of calm, peace of mind, we internally create transcendent qualities with no need for a god or anyone but us…our true self. That is god. My dad is not my god anymore. He’s just my dad. And I think thats just better for both of us.

So instead of looking out, look in. Instead of holding it in, show the world your true self.

The first time in a decade or more I stopped holding it in. For the first time I felt a wave of peace and lightness wash over me. It was last Thursday. My wife and I don’t have childcare that day and we wanted to get our son out of the house. We went to go grab a coffee at a local spot in town that has a park next to it. We got our coffee and let Beau play for a short while. It was raining pretty hard but Beau and I had fun smashing puddles with our boots. We got back in the car and headed home. Beau fell asleep in the back seat…oh boy. As a parent you want to get him home so you can have him nap in the crib. That way the parents get some ‘me’ time. Today we were like fuck it, lets just drive around the area and let him enjoy a little snooze. My wife and I talked, drove by an old park, orchards, and up the windy road next to an angry flowing river sparked but the copious amount of rain we got this past week.

That’s when it hit me. I have never experienced anything like that before. It wasn’t happiness but lightness. For the first time since my dad died, I felt like it’s all going to be okay. The damn cliche 5 stages of grief landed me at acceptance on that raining drive with my son napping in the back seat. Lost in the up and down, I finally felt connected to it all.

The last few days have felt like a dream. During the last few days, I have come to realize the destination was the reward. My dad is the throughline. Beau is the destination. My wife, Kayla, is how I got there.

My wife, Beau, and I just went to Cabo San Lucas in February to get some much needed sun and ocean time. We stayed at a luxury resort and it happened to be at the same time as the Olympic break. There were many NHL coaches and players there with their families. We drank tequila, ate good food, played in the pool, saw whales, and got to know some of these families. As a hockey player and now family man, this trip felt like a dream for me. My dad taught me how to take advantage of this life and this trip felt like - “wow I did it. Peter Moles would recognize and be proud of this person.”

The quieter I am getting, the less I need to find him somewhere else. The zest and the strength has been in me all along. I have to let go of the past, let go of my dad and those memories. And be here now.

Be here now with my son.

The other day my son and I were playing in our yard. We have a bench outside that faces Mt. Adams. I walk over to the bench. The sun is shining. I look back and there he is smiling at me. “Come on over here bud. Let’s sit on the bench.” He starts moving his little legs and eventually starts to run. He is running toward me yelling “dada! dada!”

I whispered to myself as he got closer, “I’ll never forget this moment.”

Beau, and my growing family, isn’t just a new chapter. It’s a mirror. Becoming a dad cracked me open in a specific way because it put me back in contact with everything I lost and everything I never got to finish with my own father. I am raising a son while grieving the father who didn’t get to see me do it.

But its time to let all that go and live now. This is living baby.

I don’t need to be this perfect person and ignore the fire burning underneath. Perfection is overrated. You can’t start your life with perfection in mind. You just have to start!

Ride the wave, treat yourself & your people with the utmost care, trust your gut and have joy in your heart.

As you get older you naturally start to think about life more often. You spend time in the past and future and less time in the moment. And that’s okay…Just as long as you don’t get lost. It’s very weird getting old. I had a phone call with my aunt and uncle the other day and my aunt texted me afterwards…

“Thanks for your call tonight. I loved seeing you guys. I also love reading what you write. You are so deep, thoughtful and just a great writer. I’m so glad that you have your very own family now- along with your original family- which includes us “old farts. It is very weird getting old. Sometimes I think about the fact that I won’t see what Beau- or my 2-Sully and El- will be when they are grown. Or maybe I will somehow even though my body will die. I won’t see you and Kayla get old. Then I have to stop myself and just live today and be thankful. Life is a wonder, for sure. Thanks for being part of mine.”

Life sure is a fucking wonder. Thank you to my friends and family for being a part of my life.

Flashback.

Here I was in life, 3 years after my dad died, and 7 months removed from graduating college. I picked up my camera and started documenting the journey and that camera has not left my side since.

On that December day in 2017 I took a self portrait of myself on a random street mirror in my neighborhood. My dad always loved these types of photos and I guess I do too. It’s a wonder to look back at and think about where I am today versus where I was. It's interesting to look back and see what has changed and what has stayed the same.

The same - well the mirror is still there and this is me now in 2026… a little bit older…a little bit wiser…but still Marcus Moles. Well, also a few more additions.

There is so much more I’d like to say but I will leave you with an email my dad sent me before I left to go to a hockey academy 3000 miles away from home at 15 years old.

So much I’d like to say, always seems not the right time. I need you to know I’m so very proud of you. What you are doing is very admirably, new family, town, friends and 100 percent hockey. Not to long ago I carried you on my back, hiking, skiing, walking, we feed + clothed+ watched you sleep. We tried to expose you to all we could. You are ready for this, I’m not sure your mother and I are. I know you have good values and you will do your best, and with that, will come success to what ever level it goes. I know you will take advantage of what life give you. Keep a positive attitude, work hard make your own luck, and you will have no regrets. Keep your ears and your hart open, and think of your family, we all will always be with you.

We love you

You are ready

Peter/dad

If you have made it this far, if you took the time to read this book, thank you. Thank you for coming along this journey with me. Time to close this chapter of my life and instead of building for my dad or some other fictitious person in my head, it’s time to build for myself. That’s what Peter Moles would really want. That would be his definition of perfection. That is what I want for you the reader. Keep your head in the clouds and feet in reality. You are ready.

Believe in yourself.

god speed,

-Molesy

P.S. After all this time, I have realized this book is about immense loss through quiet reflection. What is left behind…the love, the lessons, the fire…is not meant to sit in grief or gather dust on a shelf. It is to be lived. Use that fire. Don’t suppress it. Rage against the dying light.

I started this book by telling you to start. Well actually I was convincing myself to start…to create.

Can’t start unless you start. Ride the wave. Cowboy up. That was me trying to figure out how to move through life with some swagger and intention. Writing to myself out loud, hoping it landed for someone else too.

Then I slowed down. Bought a house. Built a museum. Watched my son take his first steps. And somewhere in the slowing down, I realized I had been running from something for a long time.

So we went back. Part II was where I kept the receipts…the raw journal entries, the hockey years, the floor of my living room at 25 asking my mom what to do next. The grief I never fully let myself feel because there was always another wave to catch.

Now we come out the other side.

This part is short. One final letter. I don’t need much space because I think by now you know me well enough. You’ve been in my museum. You’ve met Beau. My wife. My family…You know about my dad.

What I didn’t tell you, what I maybe couldn’t tell you until now, is that I spent a long time turning Peter Moles into something larger than a man. A god. A star to follow. A reason to prove something to the universe.

Part III is about letting him come down from all that.

Not because I love him less. Because I think he’d prefer it.

But more than that my friends, it’s about what I found when I finally stopped looking up.

Turns out it was me.

-Molesy

*You will see the final letter in your inbox tomorrow. I will be sharing details for the book release in the coming week.*

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When the Wind Picked Up

I wrote this on April 3rd, 2016 - what would have been my father’s 60th birthday. It was 618 days after his death. This is a letter to myself, trying to make sense of the universe, grief, and what he left behind.

As my mind wanders during this sad, happy, wild, emotional, beautiful day, I figured I’d reflect. It is hard to fathom Peter would have turned 60 years old today. It is hard to fathom any day without him. Every birthday, anniversary, new year settles in the harsh reality that he is no longer with us.

What a journey we went through when he was sick. I remember every day so vividly. His face, his touch, words that were said, words that weren’t said, the okay days, and the bad days. The experience makes you think about the universe. How does it work? Is there a point to it all? Will we ever see Peter again? Trying to answer these questions will surround my mind the rest of my life; a mental battle I must endure. However, countering the overwhelming sadness, are all the amazing things Dad (the universe) taught me. I am going to do my best to answer some questions that I ask myself everyday. Here it goes.

There is the universe, the stars, planets, earth, the clouds. There is the sky, and the trees. Those trees, exuberant and mighty, show off their leaves. Looking up, through all this mess makes you wonder. What is the point to all of this? When you look back down from looking curiously up, all you get is anxious and scared. Looking up to the leaves, to the trees, clouds, stars, planets, universe gives me hope. This magnificent view. How could someone not have created us for a purpose?

I look up often searching for my best friend. We all look up looking for answers or searching for an unknown. At points in my life, I like to close my eyes, stand up, and try to find myself in the universe. The universe, big or small, offers earth, offers humans, complexity and uncertainty. It is not dying that is scary, it’s living that’s treacherous.

Our mind and our heart try to comprehend all the pain and suffering but it is just too much. We look to the stars. We search the stars through the night sky. We take a breath. We breathe out the cold air and wait. We wait for a voice or sign amongst the bright creatures. Silence. It is always silent. You talk, they listen. They say nothing back.

The Universe, and its mysteries, make losing someone so much more painful. We want to reach out to our fallen loved ones but find no means to the end. Only tears and more tears are shed. Look up once more and know there are others still there for you. There are others like you. As I embark on my journey of sorrow, let me find peace. May the stars shine clear for me.

In order to begin, I must end. The most emotional and beautiful part of my life was experiencing the last breaths and lessons my father taught me before leaving this world. Every spiritual moment was riddled with broken tears. I felt completely helpless, as if I couldn’t really do anything to retain him.

My uncle slowly grabbed me, hugged me, and said “He’s gone bud...” I paused for a few seconds and replied “Are you sure?” and then the emotions took me over. The weird thing was I felt as if the world had been lifted on my shoulders. It was overwhelming sense of weightlessness. The emotional, mental toll my family went through was overwhelming.

My father’s strength kept me strong. His presence spurred me past my pain. As I pushed pass my uncle, I ran quickly to the porch. I watched my hero take one last breath, and that was it. The sun shined bright, the wind picked up, and off he went.

I got to experience life with Peter Moles; I got to experience life with God.

Will I see him again? For now, I wait. For now I take the values and experiences instilled and created by him and use it for my healing process. I use them to create an amazing journey for myself. My time on this earth is slowly ticking away. I am honored to finish the storyline Peter Moles has created for me.

I wish myself and you the reader nothing but a beautiful life.

-Molesy

Twenty Five

I wrote this in November 2017, several months after graduating college and ending my hockey career. I was 25 years old, three years removed from my father’s death, and trying to figure out what came next.

Part One

In May 2017 I graduated from college.

Almost three months ago, I turned 25 years old.

Up until this point in my life, everything was about hockey. My whole Identity was hockey. Like most players say, “Hockey isn’t a sport, it’s a lifestyle.”

I left home at 15 years old to play hockey. My parents weren’t ready but I was ready. Instead of picking a hockey academy close to home, I flew 3000 miles away, traveling from Lake Placid, New York, to Penticton, British Columbia. Just like that, my journey to be a college hockey player started.

After two amazing years at the academy, I was signed to a junior hockey team in Haverhill, Massachusetts, called Valley Jr. Warriors.

For the next three years, I lived in North Andover, MA. It was my first experience living in an apartment with roommates; I was only 17 years old. I learned fast to cook, clean, deal with roommates, but most of all, how to “live the dream.” ‘Juniors’ was a dream. I played nothing but hockey, and made nothing but lasting friendships with old teammates. I still talk to many of them to this day and it has been over 7 years; I think of them all often…

My goal throughout Juniors was to get recruited to play college hockey. I finally reached that goal, committing to SUNY Fredonia located one hour south of Buffalo, NY.

With 5 years of solid experience on and off the ice, I felt ready & excited. Fredonia was an amazing beginning to my college career. I had the pleasure playing/battling along side many amazing human beings.

My first ‘rookie’ semester came to a close and I headed off for a needed family vacation in La Ventana, Baja California.

The trip was incredible. We made the most of everyday by kiting, swimming with wale sharks, and even wearing American flag speedos!(tequila might have been involved)

I caught my mom (Patty), dad (Peter), and younger sister (Piper) up on my eventful first semester of college. However, I also shared some concerns I had and mentioned something about transferring schools.

I never thought I would transfer but the idea was coming from my intuitive ‘gut.’

Our warm Christmas past us by as did the vacation. It was time to head back to college and continue the hockey season.

I remember the moment my mom called me vividly. It was just after a team breakfast at about 8:45 am. The phone rang, I picked up. Silence for 5 seconds….My mom finally found the courage to speak.

In 30 seconds my life changed forever.

On my parents last few days of the trip, my dad started to express unusual behavior. Those around them thought my dad, Peter Moles, might be showing the beginning signs of a stroke.

My mom brought him to the hospital about 30 minutes in La Paz. The doctors administered an IV, thinking it was only dehydration or some type of bug.

Not getting any better, my mom & dad hopped on an airplane heading back home to New York; they didn’t make it. The East coast was undergoing a dreaded Nor’easter winter storm, so my parents were diverted to Houston, Texas.

Upon arrival in Houston, my mother explained to me she had to rush my father to the hospital via ambulance.

After an extensive review of my dad’s health, the doctors diagnosed my dad with Grade 4 Glioblastoma Brain Cancer.

When my mom called and told me the diagnosis, I dropped my phone & my knees collided with ground. I sat there for a few moments and cried...

A new journey had begun for myself and my family.

Part Two

The universe favors entropy; the universe seeks chaos. For 21 years of my life, the universe responded in perfect, rehearsed unity. I grew up in an amazing town, with even more amazing parents, with a gifted athletic ability.

I would never have thought I would be searching for calm amongst the chaos.

In January of 2014, when I was 21 years old, my father was diagnosed with Stage four Glioblastoma Brain Cancer. Glioblastoma is a rare, rapidly growing brain cancer with an expected survival rate of six months.

My hero fought seven hard months despite four initial diagnosed tumors growing. Our family, friends, and community battled right along with him through the surgery, the radiation, the continuous treatments, and in his last few weeks on this earth. We all couldn’t comprehend a life without him.

On July 25, 2014, Peter Moles died of the disease. It was my first experience with unbearable, unthinkable, pain & suffering.

Watching him take his last breath changed the course of my life.

About a year before his diagnosis, my sister, Piper Moles, went to see our dad in the garage. She reminisced, “I came into the garage to help him clean it. I can’t remember what we were doing, but for some reason, while organizing, he just stopped what he was doing and looked at me. I didn’t know what he wanted.”

Piper continued, “Out of nowhere he said, I am so proud of you and so proud of Marcus. If I were to die right now, in this moment, I would have a no regrets because I fulfilled my life. Of course, I would be heartbroken for leaving you, Mom, and Marcus. But I raised you guys right and I taught you what you needed to know. I fulfilled all my dreams and did everything I have ever wanted to do.’”

When I asked my sister, “How did this make you feel?”

After a few moments of deep thought and tears, she slowly responded, “I just started tearing up and hugged him. I said I love you. It changed my whole outlook on life. He made me want to strive to have a happy life. It wasn’t even about his business or the money he made. It was about building a family and a life he was proud of. It was a moment that just sticks in your memory forever. To have someone love you that much, it is crazy.”

I wish I could write paragraph after paragraph, page after page, about the type of man Peter Moles was. I can only hope to spread his values through my own actions now. Peter Moles was loved by all because he spread a lifestyle to admire and live by.

His mantra was simple: Work Hard. Play Hard.

Embedded in my DNA, I found my calm in the chaos, transferred schools, and in less than a month was back at school for my sophomore year of college.

I knew that is what he would have wanted me to do. Go build my own legacy & go fulfill my own dreams.

In September 2014, I arose out of the ashes at Nazareth College in Rochester, New York.

I owe my life to my teammates, coaches, friends, and teachers at that school. They helped me find a purpose again in my broken world. After losing my way, they helped me, more importantly, to become a better human being; not just to others, but to myself.

For the next three and half years, I proudly battled on the ice with my fellow teammates, playing the game I loved, because of the man I loved: Peter Moles.

I am extremely grateful for the friendships I made, from the senior class all the way down to the freshman. They are relationships that will be engrained in my heart and soul throughout the rest of my life.

If playing the game I love with my teammates wasn’t satisfying enough, graduating with them was even more of a delight. Our graduation day, sad & exciting, represented the long, strenuous, rewarding journey we embarked on.

I love you boys.

Yet, the celebration wasn’t over. I packed up my belongings, said goodbye to my room, said goodbye to my college house, said goodbye to my hockey career and traveled back to my home in Lake Placid, New York. A few days later, my family and friends treated me to a sensational graduation party.

Once the festivities were over, I said my goodbyes to everyone still at the house. Once the last family member exited, I closed the front door and walked into the living room. It was very quiet.

After a few moments pacing around the empty house, I slowly lied down on the hardwood floor of my living room. I stayed there for what seemed like five hours.

My mom walked by me a few times, not knowing what to say to her defeated son.

I was defeated as much as that sucks to admit. I looked up at her at one point, tears in my eyes, and said, “what do I do now mom?”

I had lost my father at 21 years old. Now, I was losing the game of hockey at 25 years old.

I spent over a decade refining my craft, to become a college hockey player.

A few months after that day of defeat, I recalled a memory of a hockey practice when I was very young. We were all huddled around the coach, eyes wide open and curious. The coach asked, “Who here wants to play college hockey?”

Of course, everyone raised their hands.

I was the only one to play NCAA college hockey. I am forever grateful.

Reflecting on the experience revealed to me that the journey, the process, was the most rewarding part. Every single practice, workout, game, was the reward. LP Blue Bombers, Okanagan Hockey Academy, Valley Jr. Warriors, SUNY Fredonia Blue Devils, Nazareth College Golden Flyers, culminated a journey filled with love, pain, fear, and glory.

Once again, since my dad died, I was faced with the entropy of the universe. I must seek the calm in the chaos. I must share my fathers’ values with the world.

I am now 25 years young. I will go build a legacy.

Suffer Proudly,
-Molesy

The Stars Are Bright Tonight

My father died on July 25th, 2014. These journals were written in the year that followed. Years of sadness, love, happiness, despair, and hope. Trying to find an answer or a purpose to it all. In the end it seems there was nothing to search for. Just be here, ride the wave, and be at peace with it all.

The Beginning

The first journal entry is the day after my dad took his last breath on this earth. He fought for 7 hard months before dying of the disease. A human we will never forget, because he made us feel.

Day 1: July 26, 2014

Hood River, Oregon

The stars are bright tonight. The breeze is cool yet comforting. There are wilted sunflowers in a vase to my right. A picture frame of my father and grandmother to my left. So much pain all around.

July 25th, 2014, my best friend left this earth. My father is dead. The script has been written for Peter Harold Moles born April 3rd, 1956. My mind is racing. I am waiting for the door to open, watch my father walk through it, and forget this horrible mess.

People laugh, talk, and reminisce today. All I want is quiet and more quiet. It is day 1 and I can already feel my body and mind slipping into the darkness. My life had purpose and drive. Now, I am left with memories and an empty hand.

The pain is unbearable. I see his face every second. Both faces. The sick face. The beautiful face - full of life and love.

The stars are bright and I have no idea which one to follow.

Day 2: July 27, 2014

Hood River, Oregon

I am remembering our trips up to Montreal, Quebec. The 2 hour drive.

We are close. He pays the parking man. We are walking fast now. Eager to see the game. Noise. More Noise. It is electrifying and inspiring. “Tickets, Tickets..” He talks the man down for cheaper scalp tickets but knows when to pay up. The noise is growing. We arrive at our section. The noise builds and then bam! The orchestra of fans hits our ear drums. It is magical. The Bell Centre. He Smiles. We have beer and pizza. “Go Habs Go! Go Habs Go!”

We are driving back now. I get sleepy and doze off. He drives. I sleep. Comfort. All I feel is comfort.

Back to reality. I am having trouble picturing a life without my father. I don’t have the tools yet to build a new road.

Nothing seems as important.

Trying to keep sane by exercising.

The noise is building, fists are clenching, tears are hidden.

Day 3: July 28th, 2014

Hood River, Oregon

It was a silent drive on the way to the funeral home. AC on high. Sun blazing on the black honda. The radio whispering in the background. We turn right after the tall green hedge bushes and park. I take a breath and exhale. My mom, sister and I open the door. The sun feels good. It is a beautiful day.

We wait in the lobby with the fake leather chairs and depressing music. God was it depressing. We take another breath. One more. Someone escorts us to the “Mt. Hood Room.” My father lay there. Dead. Cold. But very much at peace. A quilt draped over him and a red, luscious rose between his hands. Tears rush down my face. I’m waiting for him to talk. Talk please. One more time. More tears. I put a hockey stick, deck of cards, golf ball, drill bit, a Nazareth College t-shirt, and a picture of us at the hockey hall of fame. Tools Necessary for any journey.

“I’ll make you proud” I whisper to him. “I love you, you are my best friend.”

“I will make you proud.”

“Thank you for what you have given me.”

“I will make you proud.”

Kiss on the cheek. More tears. I quietly leave knowing I would never see his face again except through photos. And the mirror.

God I loved him so much. We had a big family dinner tonight at ‘Divots.’ I reminisced when Dad and I brought our putters and chipers to mess around while we waited for our meal. Longest putt competitions and 9 hole mini putt games we played. We both smile big. The sun would set and we would still play…

It was quite the rollercoaster today. Day 3. My soul grows older. In so much pain. The pain was worth it though. He gave me everything. I couldn’t ask my father for anything more. Except maybe one last goodbye, I love you, hugs, fist bump, handshake, cheers, hug. More tears. Keep Moles strong.

The Months That Followed

Wednesday December 31, 2014

159 days Rochester, New York

It has been five months and six days. One breath was taken, 5 months have gone by. I am depressed, lonely, and unsure. I can’t feel his presence much anymore. I try to imagine and picture him in the distance somewhere, waving at me, saying in his warming “best friend” tone, “Hey bud.” Reality pulls me back.

I wanted to write in this journal everyday. I wanted to write down my thoughts, fears, regrets, memories, but time has carried me onward. Routine after routine. Morning after morning. The same morning over and over again. Wake up. Laugh. Shake my head, “What the fuck? Huh?”

Get out of bed. Time carries me onward out the door to hockey practice, school, or social scene. I don’t want to feel bad for myself. Everyone has problems. But these problems are just background noise to me.

It is simple. I miss my father more than life itself. I hope I continue to write more. I like writing. It calms me. Keeps me focused on 1 thing. Time carries me onward.

One Year: Looking Back

July 27th 2015

1 Year 2 Days 30,000 feet above ground

I am currently sitting on an airplane heading back to Lake Placid, New York. Myself, sister, and mother are leaving Hood River, Oregon for a family get together to celebrate and remember the life of Peter Moles - my father. I have done much reflection this summer in conjunction to the events that have unfolded in my life. I feel as if it is an extraordinary to write down new experiences and people I have met. So here it goes.

We will begin with the moment I found out I was losing my father in this physical world:

I had just come back from our epic trip in Mexico with my good friends: The Jacksons and the Cohens. It was a family trip filled with laughter, drinking, kiting, whale shark swimming, and the occasional speedo. Life was certainly incredible. At one point in the trip, it was me, Dad, Piper, and Mom all kiting together. I don’t believe many families that can come together like that.

I have lived an incredible, interesting, bedlam, serene, unthinkable life so far. I have traveled all across North America, Mexico, Costa Rica, Dominican Republic, hockey in British Columbia for 2 years, hockey in Massachusetts for 3 years, and now Rochester, New York. Yes, I have been on quite the rollercoaster shaping my values and character.

There was a plethora of great times with my father - building houses with him at a young age, working for him, working with him, kiting at the coast. Just me and him in the cold Pacific (I don’t think I will ever forget that). Biking, skiing, hiking, Montreal Canadian games, dinners, lunches, hockey tryouts, games. Wow. We accomplished a lot.

He taught me valuable and invaluable lessons: Don’t burn a bridge, there is a purpose for everyone in this world, work hard, play hard. Death. It happens even to our heroes.

Our time is ticking, we must carry on and live to the fullest. To many people talk about this and don’t act.

July 30th 2015

1 year 5 days Lake Placid, New York

Woke up around 7 am this morning to paddle Cascade Lakes. I arrived around 8 am and set out on the left, longer lake. Cars pollute the air with noise, but the scenery was magnificent. Quiet shorelines and massive drop offs in the water, make the lake mysterious and scary. The paddle would be nicer early, say around 5:30 am.

Later that day a group of us rode up Whiteface Mountain for the monthly full moon ride. It is hard to put into words how incredible the ride and experience was. The whole uphill 5 mile ride, the sunset on the tired faces. I kept busy looking out on to Lake Placid, New York from above.

On top we drank beer, laughed, and cried. Watching the sunset and the moon come up on opposite sides was truly the best moment of my life since Dad died. We sprinkled some of his ashes at the top, and ate some for good measure (he is and always will be apart of us).

That weekend we enjoyed family time with the Moles. Playing cards, drinking, and singing along to Nick’s guitar playing. We talked of Kristy’s wedding which we all look forward to.

September 15, 2015

1 year 52 days Rochester, New York

I am back at Nazareth College now. Slowly getting back into the routine of college life. Life is great and life is horrible sometimes. Things feel different this year. I’m losing sense of time and perception. I have a very hard time envisioning my future. Living in the present moment has become very hard. I am extremely aware of the unknown future.

I think what scares me the most is that I am now trying to move on. My mind is pushing to carry forward but I won’t let it. This burden carries serious depression at times. I am still trying to figure out who I really am in the process.

I love you Peter Moles.

I love you Peter Moles.

Poem:

Smile is bright.
Hug is firm.
Hand is warm

He was ours
He was mine
Sometime

We will see
Into the darkness we trek
To the finish much driven

We will see
If plans have risen
Or darkness is given

Smile is bright
Hug is firm
Hand is warm

We will see

The End

A few months before my father died, we were walking through the hospital coming back from a doctor’s visit. A visit that showed little promise to my family and my father but we still remained hopeful. We walked slowly through the opening doors of the elevator, through a hallway, and into the large entrance of the hospital. It was an open space filled with tables, a large fountain, someone playing music on a piano. Those tables were filled with other lost stories.

To the left was a mosaic of Jesus Christ. My father glanced around and his eyes fixed on God’s son. He calmly looked at me and softly spoke, “I am going to need him soon.”

I didn’t know what to say. Tears started rushing down my face. “You don’t mean that. You don’t mean that. You got this Dad,” I hopefully responded.

My father wasn’t a religious man. We never grew up regularly attending church or praying our sins away. Yet, he believed in a higher power. How could you not? Just look at the stars.

That higher power was calling to him. It was giving him the courage to accept his past and what was to come. He was learning the true lessons of life: learning how to die. A journey some of us never reach.

Peter Moles was a man. Yet, his actions did not suggest so. He faced his disease with courage. He never wavered, or panicked, or wished for this or that. He never wished for more time.

When asked if he wanted to do anything before he died Peter responded with a firm ‘nothing.’ He lived his life to the fullest and achieved his dreams. He didn’t waste his time with unworthy pursuits. His heart was full. Did he want to leave his family behind? Hell no!

My Dad owned his own home building business, The best in the Adirondacks, called Cascade Builders. Before he died, I pleaded, “Who is going to help build my house?” I was worthless without him. He smiled, “You will figure it out. Ask someone.”

He knew I would somehow be alright…

-Molesy

When I ended the last letter, I told you we’d dive deep into my soul. That you’d learn more about my leader, my dad, and how his death changed my life.

I’ve been sitting on these pieces for years. Some were written in the immediate aftermath…raw journal entries from the days and months after July 25th, 2014. Others came later, when I was trying to figure out who I was without hockey, without my identity, without the man who taught me everything.

Part I of this book was about the present - me as a father, a husband, a man building a life in Oregon with a ‘museum’ my office. It was about slowing down, connecting dots, and finding meaning in what I’ve collected along the way.

Part II is about the past. It’s hard, vulnerable, and goes into deep waters.

These three pieces span from the day after my father’s death through age 25, when I graduated college and lay on my living room floor asking my mom, “What do I do now?”

“the stars are bright tonight” - Journal entries from the first year after his death. Day 1 through 617 days. The immediate, visceral experience of grief.

“twenty five” - My hockey journey, the diagnosis, transferring schools, rebuilding my life, and that moment of defeat at 25 when everything I’d worked for ended.

“when the wind picked up” - A letter I wrote to myself 618 days after his death, on what would have been his 60th birthday. Trying to make sense of the universe, grief, and what he left behind.

I’m not going to lie…these are heavy. But they’re also honest. And I think honesty is the only way through. The only way through is inside you. Go towards the storm.

If you’ve lost someone, if you’ve had your identity stripped away, if you’ve ever laid on a floor and asked “what now?” - these are for you.

If you haven’t, they might prepare you. Because loss comes for all of us eventually.

I’ll be back with Part III when the time is right. For now, let’s go back to 2014.

Thank you for being here.

—Molesy

I just bought my dream home this summer and for the first time in a long time, I am slowing down. Smelling the roses as they say. Yet I didn’t want to smell the roses. I guess I was pushed into this. Where was I pushed from? I’ll get to that in a minute.

Over the holidays, my brother-in-law asked me, “What are you going to do now?” as he admired my new fortress of solitude. I thought for a moment, and another moment, and another moment…He could tell I didn’t have anything to say and finally he jokingly blurted out “Just sit there and rot now huh?”

I fucking thought about that brief interlude for months on end. I am still thinking about it. It scared the living hell out of me. What am I going to do? Finding and buying our dream home was no small task. It took years of dedication, focus, and determination. I stood on the edge and looked across at the abyss and leaped.

My risks paid off but somehow I knew buying this house would unravel other parts of me, other parts of me I didn’t want to uncover. I knew it would be worth the process, but the process would be long and emotional.

When I finished my hockey career I laid on the living room carpet of my childhood home and wept for a long time. I did not know what to do next. I forgot about that moment for a while until my brother-in-law asked me that question. A month or so later I would be lying on the carpet of my new house, crying, weeping, asking my wife and myself over and over again - “what do I do now?”

I was in this rotting state for two months and just taking it one day at a time. I wasn’t sure I was going to figure it out. I went for a walk with my mom and during it she confidently said to me, “You will figure what to do next.”

I didn’t believe her at the time but I felt grateful she saw the fire in my eyes to write the next chapter of my life. Maybe I’m being overly dramatic and introspective but this really felt like a big moment for me so fuck, call me a romantic at least.

I slowly started dusting myself off and then started to think about my life, the big and small moments, and the moments in between. As our boy Steve Jobs said, “You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something—your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever.”¹

How could I connect the dots? Well for years I have been keeping a physical storybook of my life. Everything has been collecting dust in boxes for decades. For decades, I have been adding little trinkets, trophies, trading cards, pictures, journals, letters, burnt CDs, and more to the collection. I have been doing this since a young age and I never knew why, until I bought this house.

My office I thought! My big new office! I could buy a big shelf and put stuff on it and look at my life. Maybe if I don’t know what to do in the future, I will just reverse engineer and look back. I’ll look back and connect the dots.

With the help of my wife, we got to work unraveling my keepsakes. It might not look like much in this picture, but to me it’s everything and more. I have a whole stack of NHL tickets back from the early 2000s, a round of golf with my dad (he beat me by one stroke), a newspaper clipping of me playing hockey in college, Disneyland pins from that one special surprise family trip, Pokemon cards, Magic: The Gathering cards, the 1st edition GoPro, the Apple Shuffle, the Apple Nano, the Apple iPod, the Apple iPod Color, pictures of me as a baby, pictures of my wedding day, hockey trophies, high school theater signage and signatures, my first LLC binder, signed sports cards, and even my old Quicksilver wallet from middle school with a school picture of my girlfriend at the time.

My wife and I were moving efficiently setting things up, and then I saw my freshman binder. It was labeled “Project Me.” It must have been a final assignment before the year end. I flipped slowly through it…and then the last few pages came. It was talking about the future and what I wanted, what I was going to do. Now, everything didn’t work out exactly as I planned but I basically got everything I wanted out of life.

“The only true test of intelligence is if you get what you want out of life”

— Naval Ravikant²

I wrote about who I wanted as my wife, where I wanted to live, and even started talking about the details of my dream home.

“I will walk down a hallway and there will be big master bedroom. Next to it will be my office and all my hockey trophies.”

There was more to the manifestation but let’s cut to the chase. Everything I truly wanted came true. That little 14-year-old boy pushed me into this next chapter of my life.

Then one thing led to another and I started to think about September 2022.

September 2022 marked the closing of a significant chapter in my life. I turned 30 and got married that same week.

After the culmination of events, I found myself alone for the first time. The wedding was over. The birthday party was over. Friends and family, who might never be in the same place again, were flying on a jet plane home. Silence for the first time.

I had time to reflect on the last 30 years of my life, and I couldn’t help but be emotional. There were good times and bad times, sprints, mountains to climb, pondering walks, love and loss, victory and defeat. 30 years old and married. It has been a great story up to this point.

At this time, I caught a glimpse of a mirror in my room, and instead of seeing my reflection, I saw my father’s. I thought of his life, his childhood, his wedding day, his career, and his trials and tribulations. I felt him thinking of our family and how to best raise children. I cried over his life being cut short at the young age of 58 years old due to brain cancer. As I said, emotional. A chapter closed with a new one to write.

I was dealt a great hand in life. I was fortunate to have had a great dad.

My dad also taught me many lessons.

These lessons included:

• Respect everyone. Demand they respect you.

• Everyone has a purpose, so don’t treat people differently — The janitor, small business owner, landscaper, hedge fund manager, or movie director. They all give this wonderful universe purpose.

• Do things the right way even when no one is watching, or no one will see it.

• Work hard, play hard.

• Love.

• Calmness in uncertainty.

• Sing your death song by going willingly without fear.

• How to raise kids.

• Nurture friendships and build community.

• Invest in yourself.

• Take risks.

• Don’t burn bridges no matter the other person’s character.

• Be patient and pick the right partner for life.

• Suffering and death are the greatest teachers of all.

Most recently, my father and his death have reminded me not to look to the past for long. Continue to grow, build something great for yourself, and play long-term games.

Also:

Good things take time.

Becoming a man takes time.

I feel like most problems and anxiety that arise in your 20s can be attributed to a lack of patience. Be like an Aspen, I have been telling myself.

Aspens have always been my favorite tree because of their beauty and deeper meaning. Aspens are patient, resilient, and always growing. I am lucky enough now to have some euro Aspens on my property.

Patience. Resilience. Growth.

A great man continues to learn and grow all the time.

Well, it’s taken me a long time to collect the things of my past and connect these dots. I wouldn’t have been able to do it unless I slowed down and listened to the birds chirp outside my window for more than 5 seconds.

When I first got my new house, my grandpa visited from New York. He wanted to walk around the property. Now usually I would speed run it with new guests and we would do a quick house tour then quick glance of the 5-acre lot.

Not today though. I was on my grandpa’s time frame. We walked slow and methodically from tree to tree. We found a pear tree and picked a few. We both ate from our pears and just sat in silence as the summer sun beamed down on our faces. We were out there for an hour just noticing.

I thought of the Charles Bukowski quote: “Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.”³

Crazy in today’s world is slowing down. Normal is scrolling and consuming and moving fast. You gotta be crazy and weird, and keep that individuality.

Fast forward to this winter, and it’s trash day. I usually drag the trash cans down our long driveway as quick as possible and scurry back inside. But not this time. I looked at my year-and-a-half-old son and brought him with me. “Let’s do the trash little man.” Together we wheeled the two trash cans, one at a time, down the long driveway. Along the way we stopped and listened to a plane flying by, felt little worms on the ground, pointed at the ducks in the pond, and just stared at nothing. It took forever! It was magical. We waved and said hi to people walking by. We looked at each other and laughed for no apparent reason. We smashed our boots in puddles and held hands.

Kids and grandparents remind you life is long, if you know how to use it. They are our very own living Senecas.⁴

Now like I said, my wife helped me with this project. I’ll bring up my old friend Charles again - “A good woman will steal your soul.”³

A good woman doesn’t steal your soul out of cruelty; she takes it because intimacy dismantles the version of you that learned how to survive alone. Nothing meaningful comes without exposure. And nothing real leaves you unchanged.

This whole reflection process has for sure changed me…I think. Well hopefully not too much. I’m just hoping now I have a better answer to my brother-in-law.

Time to rot? No time for life. Time to write. Time for balance?

No! The balance of life is slowing down and speeding up, not one steady pace your whole life and certainly not trying to optimize everything into grey dullness.

Speaking of grey…if you can peer even closer at my bookshelf. You know the bookshelf next to ‘the Molesy Museum’ or what my wife likes to call it. Do you see that red typewriter? Do you see that Mark Twain newspaper article there?

The article is titled “Mark Twain’s Advice on Growing Old.” My wife and I received it in the mail as marketing material but as soon as I read the article I knew I had to keep it for safekeeping instead of throwing it into the recycling bin.

In the reflection, Twain says “we can’t reach old age by another man’s road.”⁵

After looking back at my life, and looking back at the previous “Washed Up” letters I have written, my hope now is for you, the reader, to take one thing from me. I hope that you reach old age by the road you carved out with your intuition, love, laughter, and determination.

“Left behind are the purified truths of what really matters, such as love and honor and friendship.”⁵

Every time I look at my office shelf, I think of Mark Twain’s words. Every time I think of what my wife told me, “I see your life and I see a leader.”

It’s hard not to cry as I write this…

This letter completes Part 1 of my book. Next we will dive deep into my soul and you will get to learn a little bit more about my leader, my dad, and how his death changed my life.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading.

-Molesy.

Appendix — Sources & References

¹ Steve Jobs — “You can’t connect the dots looking forward...” from his commencement address at Stanford University, June 12, 2005.

² Naval Ravikant — from his writings on wealth, intelligence, and happiness. Widely circulated via his blog and social media.

³ Charles Bukowski — from his novel Women (1983).

⁴ Lucius Annaeus Seneca — Roman Stoic philosopher. His reflections on patience, time, and the art of living are found throughout his Letters to Lucilius (commonly known as Letters from a Stoic).

⁵ Mark Twain — as written by Jeff Minick. Published by Epoch (ireadepoch.com) as a sample article. No date listed.

“When I am… completely myself, entirely alone… or during the night when I cannot sleep, it is on such occasions that my ideas flow best and most abundantly. Whence and how these ideas come I know not, nor can I force them.”
— Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

I wish I had some clean, stoic, neatly optimized explanation for why I’m writing this, but the truth is simpler: I’ve been walking around for months feeling like I might explode.

That’s usually how these pieces happen.

When trying to write these one off pieces, I usually spend months writing little things down into my notes. One liners, ideas, quotes, things I see, all end up in the notes app. The pressure builds and builds until one day I can’t take it anymore. It is like I am about to explode from the inside out unless I sit down to write.

And every time I ask myself the same question:

Why the hell am I like this?
Why do I think so much?

The quote on the tea I’m drinking right now is staring me in the face as I write - “Everything will happen the way it has to happen. Everything you’re stressing about will eventually fall into place.“

Thanks tea bag.

The last few months have been nothing but the universe giving me tests disguised as delays: sick babies, old friends popping back into my life, late-night spirals, and the kind of exhaustion where your soul feels hungover.

A rebirth, apparently.
Happy 33rd birthday to me.

the trip.

Flash back to May 2025. Our baby got sick before our trip to the east coast. My wife and I had very little sleep for multiple days. We both turned to each other in bed as the baby cried viciously through the baby monitor. My wife says out loud what I am thinking, “Should we cancel the trip?”

After some pacing around, I think of my old friend Jack. Jack would say “What did I tell you about thinking Molesy?”

“No we are getting on that plane.” I tell my wife.

• It’s going to be hard but just do it.

• Bring your kids along for the ride.

• Don’t think too much about it.

We took planes, trains, and automobiles across our travels from the west to the east coast and had a blast. Some plans were on time and others severely delayed. However, sometimes when things go wrong it turns into a funny memory later on.

the overthinking spiral.

Stop thinking.

I find myself doing just that too much - over thinking. Overthinking this blog, my work, my life, my wardrobe, all of life’s inconsistencies. Perfection and control is what us humans want but life and especially children remind us that life is anything but that.

I often look for answers about life’s secrets in books. I have read a lot of books. I love to read. Yet lately, I pick up a book about love and it doesn’t make my love life better. I pick up a book about Stoicism or Buddhism and I feel less happy, peaceful, calm. I start over thinking. Why the fuck am I reading these books?

All these books on how to be happy, peaceful and live a good life, yet we are more unhappy.

Fuck the quotes. Fuck stoicism. Monk mode is overrated. Stop outsourcing intuition to books. Don’t look for the meaning of life, stop searching. Be yourself, embrace your individuality, leave a dent. Be a beauty.

rebirth.

The universe works in mysterious ways I tell you.

Right before I turned 33 — that age people love to assign “rebirth” energy to — life basically sat me in the last row of a very delayed airplane and said:

“Here. Sit with your bullshit. Think about your life up until this point.”

Old friends came back.
New memories formed.
Everything felt like a full-circle moment to me. A completion of a multi decade cycle if you will. It was the kind of moment you don’t notice until you’re forced to slow down. Well delayed 2 hours, deplaned, then stuffed into the back row by the bathroom with your wife, child, and your wife’s grandmother.

You gotta get lost to find yourself. Annoying, but true. And somewhere in the middle of sickness, chaos, airports, exhaustion, and mild existential dread… I started feeling something like clarity.

Not the clean kind.
Not the spiritual kind.

The real kind — the kind that comes after you’ve mentally given up and accidentally fall back into who you actually are.

the single tree.

While I was on that airplane sitting with my thoughts, I wrote this - “The mountains get the credit, the eye balls, the views. Give me the forest, the single tree in the vastness of life. Show me the small things that make up the large. For that is what makes the mountains.”

Life happens in the micro, not the macro.

washed up.

So yeah.
I’ve been washed up.

Overthinking everything until my back hurt, my shoulder tightened, and my brain felt like it might actually explode.

But washed up isn’t failure. It’s a clearing of what you thought was all true in this world.

It’s what happens right before the next version of you steps forward. It’s what happens before you trust yourself again. Before you stop gripping so hard. Before you stop searching. Before you start living instead of thinking about living.

So here’s what I learned:

Stop thinking so much. Thanks Jack.
Stop the self-help.
Stop trying to solve life like a math problem.

Pay less attention. Be less informed.

Oh and bring your kid(s). Get on the plane. Write your own story. Trust your own gut. Be yourself. Be a beauty. And if things go wrong? Fuck it…those become the best memories anyway.

Washed up isn’t the end. It’s where the real beginnings hide.

Cheers to the next chapter,

-Molesy

P.S. This story didn’t make the cut but I wanted to include it:

I watched this guy driving in NYC park, get out, open the trunk of his mini van, and use it as a shield from the rain while he smoked a cigarette. For some reason it was the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a while. Truly not giving a flying fuck and totally in the moment despite the pouring rain. He just sat there and stared into the wet distance as I waited for my wife to finish shopping. We both were having a moment it seems.

When I was around 17 years old, one of my friends’ dads said to me, ‘Molesy! You have such a great smile. Don’t stop smiling.’ I think of that moment often. Every time I look in the mirror, I think to myself, smile.

I lost that smile at some point in my life. Everyone loses that smile at some point in their life. I believe it is a necessary part of life, a lesson to hold onto.

Your job is to get that smile back. Some never do. The far majority of us drift through life with a fake smile, only to realize, as time passes, that we can never get it back.

I lost my smile when my dad died of brain cancer. I was 21 years old.

The next day, I got up, put on my clothes, and went to the gym. I wanted to keep training for my upcoming college hockey season. It was an emotional session. I remember someone I knew coming up and talking to me. Time slowed at that moment as I realized reality was still going on. The sun would still rise, and the daily routine would take over. I was having a hard time processing my dad's gone forever and my newfound life.

Lift the weight. Forward only. Fake smile resumes.

As my hockey season started, I felt stronger and faster, but still wore that same fake smile. Through those times, I am grateful to great teammates, coaches, friends, family, teachers, and mentors. However, there is a time in particular that still sticks with me. At the beginning of my hockey season, sophomore year, we had a church member come to our locker room. He hoped to meet once a week with anyone willing to discuss God’s teachings, religion, insights, and analogies.

I am not religious in the traditional sense. I had no church upbringing. I was never forced to attend church every Sunday or obey the Bible. I am pleased my parents raised me like that. I believe it kept me curious and contrarian. I didn’t need a God(s) to act respectfully or empathetically.

Despite my feelings, I had an innate curiosity to go to a session with several of my more religious teammates. We shared some stories, but I don’t remember much from the group setting.

However, after my teammates left, I got to speak one-on-one with this shepherd of God. I told him a bit of my story and how I lost my dad to brain cancer a few months ago. I will never forget what he said to me.

‘One day you will thank him.’

For clarity, this man was saying I would one day thank God because my father died.

As you can probably already assume, I never attended another weekly session. Thank him?

Thank him for taking my hero from me. How could I ever do that?

We all must suffer.

“To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.”

- Friedrich Nietzsche

It wasn’t until many years later that I realized he was right. Admitting this was a tough pill to swallow. Even etching these words into my personal history book makes me slightly ill.

Thank God for killing my father? Am I crazy?

Yet, his death gave me everything. It gave meaning to life that no other life experiences would have taught me. Death is truly one of life’s most outstanding teachers.

His death re-priced risk for me and set me on a path towards truth.

Suddenly, everything I wanted to do or try became an internal statement of, ‘Well, you are going to die. So go all in.’ The risk of embarrassment and failure faded away as time became my most significant resource and friend. What is the point of telling you all this, though? Surely you don’t need another cliche tale of death and suffering — YOLO bro.

Life begins when we suffer because suffering re-prices risk and brings us closer to the truth. When risk is re-priced, the fear of acting on a pursuit is substantially diminished.

“Everything you’ve ever wanted is sitting on the other side of fear.”

- George Addair

Fast forward to today, and my son is 9 months old. Rebirth is another one of life’s teachings. Raising a child does not make you happy. Experiencing death and raising a child gives you meaning.

Thank you for giving me twenty-one amazing years with my father. Thank you for showing me that everything arises and everything falls away. Thank you for giving my son. Thank you for showing me that everything lies in the here and now. Thank you for my beautiful wife, who I make read these intense letters.

Smile back.

I also lost my smile when my hockey career ended in 2017. Once again, I was faced with change and washed up on a new shore.

I remember being in denial in November 2018. I wrote this to myself:

I was a kid with a dream of playing professional hockey. Hockey never worked out for me...but in a way it did...it did and it didnʼt. Let me explain. You see I never played professional hockey or made the nhl...But I got to play the game I loved from 6 years old until 25 years old, almost 2 decades of doing something I loved with the people I loved. Amazing teammates and coaches and family surround me along the way...I came back home to my hometown in Lake Placid, New York, after my college hockey career was finished. I was happy, but inside, very depressed. Then I went to dinner at my best friend’s house. His mom is like a second mom to me and I spoke of some of my frustrations…you know never played pro or won any meaningful championships.. I dreamed of being a national champion with my college team...she didnʼt say much...just smiled and shook me off.

”Marcus, you have already won.”

What a wake-up call. I am very grateful for my life.

Smile back.

Let’s get back out there.

“Drained of faith

I kneel and hail thee as my Lord

I ask not life

Though need not swerve the bullet

I ask but strength to ride the wave

and one thing more—”

-Henry Lee in Ghost Soldiers

And one more thing, get your smile back because life is too short not to laugh at the universe’s chaos. Life is too short not to be fearless and happy.

Instagram will make you think everyone is happy when in reality, most are sad and depressed.

X.com and the news will make you think the world is falling apart when in reality, we live in the most peaceful and abundant times ever.

Cut out the noise, unplug, and do less. Listen to the wind, feel the sun on your face, and watch the stars. Choose happiness now. Find meaning.

And for God's sake, smile.

-Molesy

Just be grateful, dude.

What about the past? Maybe I could have changed something, been better, been kinder, maybe…

Be grateful.

Well, yeah, sure, but man, the house I am renting isn’t what it is anymore. I am feeling claustrophobic. My boss is on my ass; I got deadlines to catch and shit a vacation to dispatch.

Be grateful.

I have been feeling really good lately. Why is that? How am I thinking? Positive, calm, not judging my thoughts, more present, empathy, letting things go. Thinking in decades instead of seconds, exercising, hanging with people I enjoy, planning trips, and making money. Learning from my son. Loving my wife.

My wife, my son, and I recently returned from a beach vacation in Mexico. On the way to the airport, I looked down to see three passports in the middle console of the car. That was the first time I realized I was responsible, not just for myself but also for my wife and son.

It might seem very silly, but I was filled with gratitude when I saw those three passports. This is what life is all about, I thought to myself—growing the passport stack and adventuring. Mexico was spent winging, wedding dancing, and wetting our whistle with tequila. The week came and went all too soon, and we were heading back home.

I picked up the car from long-term parking, loaded the family and luggage, and started the drive home. I have felt grateful before, but this time was different. As we were driving home, gratitude overtook my body. I felt lighter, warmer, and peaceful in a sense. I know it sounds so cliche and boring to write this out, but I felt it wash over me. I thought I had it all. I was grateful for my past (my successes, failures, hockey career, and family). I was thankful for whatever god had in store for my future. Yet, most of all, I was grateful for what I had at that moment.

All that material stuff, the striving, that wanting, brings us less and less happiness. It is truly a roller coaster to hell. It is a destination to a desolate field.

I just want to be washed up on a new shore, grateful I am alive, forever collecting driftwood and ideas. I don’t wish to have more THINGS; I want more reasons to be grateful when I wake up.

I want gratitude and presence. This is all we need to seek in life.

Having gratitude amplifies everything in your life.

Being present gives you insights to shape the life you want.

How do you become present?

My notes from The Power of Now:

• Get in touch with the energy field within the inner body

• Be intensely present

• Disidentify with the mind

• Surrender to what is

Pay attention to the silence to find god. “God” is the consciousness of the whole, not of the individual. When you are present, there is no past nor future. This is the realm of the timeless. This is the realm of God.

That’s far out, dude.

Gratidude is knowing the sun’ll rise, even if you’re too lazy to watch it.

-Molesy

Style is knowing who you are, what you want to say, and not giving a damn.”

―Gore Vidal

God damn, I wish this was my quote. It sure is timeless. STYLE. Do I have it? Do you have it? Do I know who I am?

You tend to ask yourself who you are during tough times. A lot of people wonder who I am. I am hard to read when you first meet me. I come off as introverted, mad, and intense, but with a good smile. I tend to go inward before outward, listen before speaking, and watch before playing. If you give me a few cocktails, I may be a little more talkative.

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Despite the rough edges of my first encounters, I am a lover who just wants to make my mark on this world. “Make me tired,” I ask this world and God. I wrote a poem called “tired.”

I come here to rest. 

But before I rest, give me the strength to be tired

Tired through all that life has to offer 

Tired from love, suffering, adventure, work, generosity 

Tired from the pursuit of moral perfection

I was born to someday rest

So make me tired.

If you want to know who I really am, read my writing. My writing is where my soul is. When I can’t find my soul, who I am, or my style, I think of a memory from many years ago.

Well, here's the thing, I was going through a hard time many moons ago, so I went to breakfast with a mentor and a friend. I explained my trials and tribulations. He patiently listened until I finished. Then he gave a little smirk and said, “Well, at the end of the day, no matter what happens, you will still be Marcus Moles.” Strip it all away, and I will still be me, the one & the only, the optimist standing on the edge. And I was at peace.

Who am I? a lover, an optimist, a risk-taker.

What do I want to say? Give me a keyboard or piece of paper and someone who loves me, and I will pour my heart out.

Today is December 29, 2024. What do I want to say today? Well, today, I am at peace. I am at peace even during the rough seas in my head. My faith grows. My faith grows as I am washed up on my next wave of fatherhood. I thought for a second there I would just start only writing about being a father but fuck that. That is not my whole identity. Strip it all away, and there will still be “-Molesy” l-i-v-i-n. I want to write about the wave I have been on, the wave I am looking for, and the wave I am on. The full human experience. Why? Sometimes, we have to look back to go forward, and sometimes, we have to look forward to go back.

But back to fatherhood for now…

There are some lessons my little man BEAU tiful has graciously bestowed upon me in his first 5 months of life. I think I would like to share them if you don’t mind. To me, god is speaking in the only way he or she or it or them knows how - through love and through my child. If we didn’t love, would we really be listening? I am listening my son.

Lessons:

1. Go for walks, at least two a day. It is my favorite part of my morning with my son.

2. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.

3. Happiness and fun are outside; stay busy and active socially

4. Talk less & communicate clearly (this might be one of the most important lessons).

5. Slow down and don’t rush. There are very few things in life you need to hurry for…maybe to catch a plane.

6. Take care of yourself first. Keep your mental and physical health at the top of your mind. If you can’t help yourself, how can you help others?

7. Having a child kills the ego. Life is about bigger things now.

8. Trips with your new family are a blast. Create as many core memories as possible for them to look back on.

9. Protect and support your wife. They put more work in than you realize.

10. Smile more. My son has the best smile that melts my heart.

11. Don’t focus on the past. Let it be a dream. Focus on the here and now and the what is. I am not going to get these moments back with my son.

12. The hard is what makes life so special even though it’s hard to see in the moment. The hard is what makes it great.

13. Be in awe, keep the passion lit, and stay curious.

14. Let things go.

15. Every day is a blessing. Everything is a new experience, even if you are stepping into the same river.

16. This is what life is all about—raising a family, loving something more than yourself, and being closer to God.

Written on December 20th, 2024

Lesson 17 - Who cares?

New outfit in the middle of the day? Who cares. Puked on myself? Who cares. Shit my pants? Who cares. I was playing with a toy and now it is gone? Who cares. See a moment and now it is gone? Who cares. Kids really show what and who is important in life…the answer is well not much. Shitting, sleeping, and smiling, crying, farting, and laughing. Beauty, love, connection. Nothing to care about means there is everything to care about. Every moment matters.

Your mother is screaming, “Oh my god!” while she is trying to get you ready for bed so I got to go. I’ll be back in 2025. The year will be the year of change, adventure, leveling up, and leveling down. Thank you my son for showing me what to care about. Thanks for bringing more beauty and love into my life. Thanks for showing me how to change a diaper. Now, that is poetry.

Anyway, that’s me and what I wanted to say today…

go fuck yourself,

-Molesy

I am so bored.

12 entries into this experiment, and I am bored. What do I write about? My work has been dull for the last several months. What do I work on? Where should my focus be right now?

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I conversed with a friend over beers, and he said, “I hate being bored. I really struggle with that. What do you do when you are bored?”

What do I do when I am bored? I have been thinking about that conversation for the past couple of weeks. I think a better question is: Why are we so afraid to be bored?

When we are bored, it really means we don’t like being with our own thoughts. We have to find something to focus on to avoid being with ourselves. Instead of looking inward, we fill the void with social media, video games, social events, or that new Netflix show everyone has recommended.

Speaking of being bored, have you ever noticed that TV shows always end up being talked about when you are at a social event and the conversation is getting too stale or boring. Try and be aware of that the next time you are out to dinner with friends. TV shows and movies come right before the check comes out.

Digressing, we are afraid to be bored. We are afraid to admit that activity does not mean progress. As the sun rises later and sets earlier, the dark creeps into the mind rapidly. There is something scary but meaningful about the seasons bringing about introspection.

Where I live, it is about to start raining pretty heavily for the next three days. It seems like more time inside, oh no. Boredom.

There is an old Navajo Chant that goes:

I follow the scent of falling rain

and head for the place where it is darkest

I follow the lightning

and draw near to the place where it strikes

The next time you find yourself alone, go into the darkness instead of running and hiding. Don’t judge your thoughts; watch them closely. Question your ideas, your anxieties, your beliefs. Be aware of what you spend a lot of time thinking about when you are alone. Take out a journal and write some things down.

I like to organize my thoughts using the framework Naval Ravikant discussed: “A fit body, a calm mind, a house full of love. These things cannot be bought—they must be earned.”

My writing is blocked out in sections of:

• Health (Physical) - Am I exercising and eating well? How can I be better?

• Health (Mental) - How peaceful am I? How are my thoughts when I am bored? Reassuring or doom-like?

• Love and relationships - Am I checking in on my partner and friends? Am I being present around them and showing them true love.

• Career and Material Wealth: Does my work still feel like play? Do I obsess over this even when I am bored? Are there other opportunities out there?

I would also like to add a "Fun" section because you shouldn’t take yourself or life too seriously. What trips do you have coming up? What would you like to plan or do for fun over the next 6-12 months?

Life should be fun and happy, or what is the point? You don’t want to spend your days being miserable all the time. You don’t want to spend your moments in boredom in misery, either. So when it is dark and silent this coming winter, follow the lightning and draw near to the place where it strikes.

What does your heart say when you are bored? What gets you excited? What or who should you stay away from? How can you gain some perspective? Watch the mind.

Boredom is good. Again, never mistake activity for progress. Rest is good. Be like a lion, not like an ant.

My work has been boring, so my focus has shifted to the other buckets of my life (my new son, my health, travel, research, and some fun). Sometimes, boredom allows you to pick up the pieces of things you might have left behind.

Yet, even when bored with my work, I still spend all day obsessing over it. I love being in the investing and trading market. I love the research, the game, all of it. That is my lightning strike. I also spend a lot of time thinking about this Washed Up blog, writing about it, and turning it into a book. Signal. Do stuff you are deeply curious about, even in the depths of boredom and uncertainty.

Boredom might help you recognize you need to change. Depression can overwhelm you in these times of boredom. I know because it does to me. And I say, “Not today, Satan!”

I love Jim Carrey's thoughts on this:

Your body needs to be depressed. It needs deep rest from the character that you've been trying to play.

As I wrote about in Ride The Wave, you are washed up on a new shore, a new beach, a new situation, a new life journey with new people, and it is finally time to dust yourself off and find the next wave.

You don’t want to look back on your life, escaping your own thoughts and boredom, never finding the place where you were meant to be. Yeah, you might work hard, build the house, get the fancy car, and collect all the material things that stoke the ego. Yet, someday in the future, you will leave it all behind. This is the slavery of our generation. A generation scared to stop for one fucking second and look inside to find the light.

-Molesy

My dad died 10 years ago on this day. God, I hate fucking typing that. I hate reading that. It still shocks me. I hate it even more when you read it. Feel bad for me, give me attention, my life is so hard…blah blah blah. We all suffer as our collective consciousness grows and grows. Spare me your pity and your sorry. It is okay. I am going to be okay. We are going to be okay.

Yet, I still miss him every day.

Ten crazy years later, my son was born. July 20th, 2024. Time is a flat circle. As my father passed away, the sun shined on his face, and the warm wind blew strong. My mom, sister, and I held his hand, and that was that. One more breath and then a legend was gone.

As my son was born, the summer sunset pierced the hospital windows, and the wind howled. I held my wife’s hand, and then that was that. One new breath and my beautiful boy was here.

Just as I was writing this, my wife came up out of nowhere and hugged me. I stopped writing. I closed my eyes and embraced her for a few minutes. We both cried. Childbirth is an incredible undertaking. I am so proud of her.

I am so proud of my mother and have a newfound appreciation for her endless sacrifices. As I stared into my son's eyes for the first time, I felt pure love. I felt my dad's love for me—that Intense and eternal love. I am crying thinking about him seeing me for the first time and what he must have felt. I find so much comfort in that. It was his beautiful new chapter with my mother. It was his transition from husband to father.

10 years later, a new chapter began for me. You become a man when you lose a parent and also become a father. You see life in its entirety. Death and re-birth. Death and re-birth. Over and over again as the universe keeps expanding. We have so many stupid problems and a short gratitude list. When you experience these two moments, gratitude and love wash away the small stuff. You realize we are just little ants on a spinning plant, happy that a leaf gives us shade in the beating sun.

These minor problems give us anxiety, and we look too far into the future. As young adults, we yearn for the future—we look to the future. But as we get older, we look to the past. For it is in the past that we find the future—the right way to live.

As Steve Jobs said, you can only connect the dots by looking backward.

Too much time is spent in the future. Too much time is spent thinking of our own impending death. Death…What an interesting and scary thing. The absolute unknown. I definitely spend too much of my life worrying about it, especially after watching my own father die. It is scary shit.

Today, I had a different perspective. Today, after holding my son, I was more okay with death because I knew he would be there with me, holding my hand, and I would be watching over him as he wrote his own story. I found intense comfort knowing that. Comfort, after watching my father die and my son born, that it would all be okay. Life will keep marching forward, but his love and my love for him will be eternal.

Honestly, I don’t know what the point of this blog is. I just wanted an outlet to pour my heart out on the page.

Let’s end it with:

Have kids and write a great story with them because you’re going to die one day. You can’t escape it. That is not a question. The question is whether your kids are going to have a good story to tell about you when you’re gone.

Okay, one last thing. After this baby was born, I looked at my endless, unread text messages.

From a friend & father of two:

“Now the trick is to continue to put as much energy into your relationship with each other as you do Beau. If you want to do one thing for your kid it is have a great relationship with each other. Probably the hardest thing you’ll ever do. Just remember that you don’t have to be perfect parents. There isn’t such a thing. Ok, I’ll stop preaching now.“

I will stop preaching now.

Much Love,

-Molesy

My hope for the end of this experimental blog is that it will turn into a book. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. I really don’t spend a lot of energy on that, but it is a big goal.

Write a book.

It has been on my life goal list for a while now.

Yet, to write a book, you need to write a chapter. To write a book, you need to write a page. To write a sentence, you need attention in a world where attention is fleeting.

Aim small and miss small, my friend would tell me when shooting the hockey puck.

It's the small efforts day in and day out that blossom into a mighty Douglas-fir.

Life is about the little things that contribute to the big.

• Seeing my hometown sign driving off the exit

• A cold breeze on the cheek at the ski hill

• Adirondack stewarts coffee

• Throwing the ball for the dogs

• My wife randomly breaking out in song at the house

• Smiles on my family’s faces

• A random phone call with a friend

• Sitting on my deck early in the morning, watching the sunrise, the birds chirping, and the squirrels running about the trees.

• A random drive to nowhere

When is the last time…

When’s the last time you just got in the car and went exploring, mixed up the routine, found a new hike, new locations you haven’t been to, or watched the birds and wildlife without an agenda.

I’m not talking about a vacation to the 4 seasons in Costa Rica. I am talking about somewhere where you live.

• Those little streets you never drive down

• That store you never go in

• That trail you haven’t walked

• That stranger you have never smiled and waved at

These are little things you miss because you have your routine as if routine made for an interesting life.

Step out of your little bubble, maybe try not to think about your problems, and watch those problems fade away because you spent too much time focusing on the big stuff when it is the little stuff that counts.

When was the last time you appreciated the little moments, and a little smirk came to your face? Every moment is a little death. There are little moments all around us to be cherished.

These little moments will turn into a big, beautiful life.

And, god willing, these little posts will turn into a book. But not yet.

For now, we write, smile, slow down, and enjoy the little things that make life great.

-Molesy

Some people go to church, and others find a church in daily life.

After three months of traveling this winter, God can be found, not in a stand-alone structure, but in the flowers, the long travel days, skiing the mountains, swimming in the rivers, kiting the oceans, talking to strangers, working on the move, laughing with friends and family, or dancing your heart at a wedding.

Take me to church. Take me on an adventure.

Growing up, my family had a saying, “No mold on the Moles.”

I love and admire my parents for engraining this sense of wonder and adventure from a young age instead of being sheltered in the forest. I flew over the trees to faraway lands. I was able to create new memories, meet new people, and understand new cultures.

There is no mold on the Moles. The Moles never take the escalator, always the stairs. We are constantly moving, never stagnant. Always find the next wave, but be conscious of the one you are on now. These trips would encourage stress, learning, and improvement.

I remember how stressful but fun it was when my parents gave over the reigns to me at a very young age and let me guide them through the various airports to find our gate. Let the youth lead, but be there for guidance when they fall.

This mantra has given me perspective. Perspective on how lucky I am to be born where I was from such incredible parents. My church has taught me perspective, gratitude, love, and adventure. God and the present moment weren’t forced upon me at the altar of some speech but through hundreds of plane rides, car rides, hikes, walks, and setbacks.

Setbacks & The Family Wave

The Moles family wave involves waving the middle finger in the air. It is absolutely hilarious when a group of us does it.

Like most humans, we Moles have experienced hard times. The wave is there to help us find humor during these times, suffer proudly, and smile through life's challenges.

And to our friends, the wave is a hello & goodbye - “Fuck you. I love you.” Friendships and families are not all sunshine and rainbows. We go through these moments together. We don’t always have to agree or like the same things, but we still love each other to the ends of the earth. You can only tell those genuinely close to you to go fuck yourself, but also, I love you to the end of the world and back.

“Fuck you. I love you with all my hart.”

I love you with all my Hart.

This was a latecomer to the Molesisms. My dad wrote me a letter before I went away to my private hockey school in Canada.

Keep your Hart open, Molesy. I do not know if he meant to misspell heart or not. Building his business and growing solid connections was always his forte, not spelling. Nevertheless, the word has stuck with our family. On good days, bad days, and travel days, we usually finish with “I love you with all my hart.”

It is a playful reminder not to take life or yourself too seriously. You will make mistakes, learn from them, and move on. Mispless words, screw grammar, dance, try new things, embrace your individuality, be creative, get a little mud on the tires, get up every day, and be yourself.

“Get up. Survive. Go to bed.”

This phrase comes from my wonderful and loving grandmother, Norma. It sounds pretty morbid to the naked eye. However, deep down, the simplicity shows its hidden beauty.

So many of us are trying to change the world. Yet, we can’t change the world unless we look inward. We try to overcomplicate this life when life really isn’t that complicated.

Get up.

Survive - love your people, adventure, don’t take life too seriously

Go to bed.

“Real revolution takes place not through mass movements but through the inward revaluation of relationship — that alone is real reformation, a radical, continuous revolution. We are afraid to begin on a small scale.”

-J. Krishnamurti in The Book of Life

One step at a time. Don’t think too far down the track of life, or you might miss the critical moments. A general problem with our generation is that we overthink the past and future. Social media is at our fingertips. A comparison engine telling you, “You are just not enough.” A machine telling you to be me more, make more, look sexier, only to arrive at the end of the day feeling shitty.

Come back to reality and the simplicity of life. Get up. Survive. Go to bed.

If I hold these Molesisms close to my hart, I can be more present in daily life, for it is in the present that we find God and all the earth’s beauties.

-Molesy

WHAT DO YOU WANT?

What do youuuuu wannnttt?

Tell me! What do you want?

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There is an external and internal dialogue within you during the holiday season. What do I want for my Christmas presents? What do I want my goals to be for the year 2024? What do I want to drink while I hang out with my mother-in-law? High West Whiskey, of course.

Oh yes, this time of year is not only for family and giving but also for reflection.

Along with sending my Christmas list off into the family group chat and making a cliche New Year’s Resolution list, I also reflected on three things:

1. Career and Wealth Reflections

   • Did I hit my wealth goals? Where do I want to be a year from now? How can I get there?

   • Am I happy in my career? Does what I do feel like play to me but look like work to others? Where is the world heading? What are possible new opportunities? How much has my network grown this year? How can I increase my meaningful network?

2. Digital & Physical Clean Up

   • If your physical and mental environment is a mess, how do you expect to succeed in this life? Clean up around the house. Sell some stuff. Give some things to the Goodwill. Organize your phone and laptop home screen (make folders, delete pictures, delete emails, etc). Cancel useless subscriptions and delete apps you don’t use. You could stretch this further and ask how my physical health was this year. How can I be healthier? Diet? Lifting Routine?

3. Values and Personal Reflection

   • Go back over your values and who you want to be. If you don’t have a list, make one.

   • A few of mine are:

     Be calm

     Be fit and healthy

     Live in the moment

     Be kind

     Seek knowledge and truth

     Be a leader

   • Honestly, have I done myself justice to live up to my values? How can I improve each year? What areas are lacking? What areas am I doing well at?

While the above reflection exercise has been crucial in my life, I find that as I get older, I crave more and more simplicity. Simplicity is in my investing decisions, banking, and budget, how I exercise, how my environment is structured, and in my values.

Fuck the reflections for a moment.

The question again - WHAT DO YOU WANT?

It is quite a simple question. I am not asking what other people want or expect of you. I am not asking about career or spring cleaning or your value list.

I am asking one question - What do you want?

To make a difference, you must be selfish and start with yourself first. As I am writing this, I am reminded of what the great thinker Confucious said:

“To put the world in order, we must first put the nation in order; to put the nation in order, we must first put the family in order; to put the family in order; we must first cultivate our personal life; we must first set our hearts right.”

― Confucius

What does your heart want, Marcus?

As Gilbert Grape said, “I want to be a good person.”

“I want to be a good person,” Gilbert calmly and spiritually told Becky.

I want to be a good person and cherish those I love around me. We tend to admire the dead and forget the living. “I wish I had just one more day with this person,” we tell ourselves. Well, that person is right in front of you. It is your mother or father, brother or sister, friend or family.

My father passed when I was young, and I spent and still do spend the majority of my time thinking of him and wishing for more time with him. This is a mistake. This has been my mistake. I forget that my wonderful mother is still here and breathing and living and….well, you catch my drift.

Take your regrets with the dead and make them right with living. Ask the questions you never got to ask. Forgive them, hug them, and create memories with them. Take pictures and videos with them. Laugh, cry, and tell stories with the people you love.

Life is short. Be a good person and cherish the ones helping you be one.

Love and peace into 2024,

-Molesy

This summer was the best, wasn’t it?

Travel, friends, parties, sunshine, sports, early mornings, and long nights. It is pretty impossible to be mad when the sun is shining.

During the craziness of the endless summer, I needed some alone time.

• Take a breath

• Take a hike

• Be in nature

On a path less traveled…I come across a great blue heron.

• Still

• Calm

• Powerful

• Alone

It was a magical moment. Why though? I couldn’t put my finger on it.

My subconscious sat on that moment for some time. Time goes by. Change happens. Fall sneaks up on us. Winter shows signs of approaching with the cold air and fallen leaves. 2024 New Year - “What are we doing for the 1st?!” Friends mumble occasionally.

My subconscious brought that summer memory back to me today. What is the message?

According to North American Native tradition, the Blue Heron brings messages of self-determination and self-reliance. They represent an ability to progress and evolve. The long thin legs of the heron reflect that an individual doesn't need great massive pillars to remain stable, but must be able to stand on one's own.

Blue Herons have the innate wisdom of being able to manoeuvre through life and co-create their own circumstances. Blue Herons reflect a need for those with this totem to follow their on unique wisdom and path of self-determination. These individuals know what is best for themselves and need to follow their hearts rather than the promptings of others. Those with the Medicine of the Great Blue Heron may sit until the rest of us loose patience. And, when they follow the promptings of the heart, they are one of the most magnificent when they choose to soar.

This is the message that Blue Heron brings.

Again, The Blue Heron represents an ability to progress and evolve.

This is what this blog, Washed Up, is all about.

As I talked about in Ride the Wave - you are washed up on a new shore, a new beach, a new situation, a new life journey with new people, and it is finally time. It is time to dust yourself off and find the next wave.

Embrace the wave and embrace the change.

Life is change. It is a consistent state of flow. Better depicted, according to Chinese Philosopher Lao Tzu, Life is a dynamic path full of uncertainty and instability whose source is an energic flow.

Washed Up - a flow, from wave to wave, from one challenge to the next, from one experience and relationship to the next.

Your unwillingness to accept change is making you unhappy. No, happiness is not the goal, but peace. Peace within yourself. Like the Heron - calm, strong, steady, willing to evolve.

Allostasis - order, disorder, reorder

Allostasis means ‘achieving stability through change.’ It is a term that pushes us to adapt rather than seek order and familiarity.

Why would you want to order your whole life? Put some WD-40 on the bones, you grumpy old bag, and make this life spectacular.

Your life will become much more spectacular if you view suffering and change optimistically. You will have a tolerance for emotional instability and, in turn, more empathy for those going through the depths of hell.

Life is a human experience, not an individual experience. There are other people surfing waves all around you. Some are unwilling to let go of that perfect wave. Some are unwilling to catch another wave. Some are thinking about another wave rather than enjoying the one they are on.

Slow it down, Kelly Slater. Stand on your own. Follow your heart.

And don’t be afraid to get washed upppp.

-Molesy