About These Letters.
On March 22nd, 1993, I woke to find my father had died of a sudden heart attack. He was 48.
 
    On March 22nd, 1993, I woke to find my father had died of a sudden heart attack.
He was forty-eight.
I was sixteen.
From that day, I became obsessed with pursuing life.
I travelled.
I played hockey.
I represented my country.
I coached at the highest level.
I wrote books.
But beneath the achievements, I was struggling.
Poor health — gout, inherited from my dad.
Dysfunctional relationships.
Restlessness.
An inability to stay present.
It taught me something deeper.
The urgency of time.
The fragility of success.
The patterns that repeat themselves.
The need to live fully, now.
Not someday.
Now.
That became my purpose.
The work I do today.
Guiding CEOs to clarity, balance, and presence.
Helping them align business, body, relationships, and mindset — The 4 Keys.
So they don’t wait for a crisis to wake them up.
So they can pursue life—before life pursues them.
These letters aren’t instructions.
Not quick fixes. Not clichés.
They are reflections. Perspectives.
Sometimes strategies.
Distilled from rare conversations with CEOs who dared to admit what wasn’t working—
and discovered what could.
Each letter begins in tension.
The weight of pressure.
The fog of burnout.
The quiet ache that success should feel different.
And each one offers a shift.
A way through.
From noise to clarity.
From overwork to balance.
From restlessness to meaning.
The lens is always the same:
Business. Body. Relationships. Mindset.
The 4 Keys that unlock lasting change.
What you read here is what remains when the conversation ends.
An echo. Distilled into words.
Sent as an invitation.
To pause.
To see yourself clearly.
To make one choice today that changes what comes next.
These letters are not a manual.
They are a mirror.
Sometimes a compass.
Always a beginning.
Stay with them, and you’ll see the arc.
From where you are now—restless, overextended, searching.
To where you could be—clear, composed, thriving.
Delivered every Sunday.
Take what lands. Leave what doesn’t.
Return when you need to.
Yours truly,
Andrew