Mark Alan Fish

Some lessons enter your life quietly, linger in the background, and wait patiently until you’re ready to understand why they arrived.

I was reminded of that recently during a return visit to Sun Valley, Idaho.

For those who have been following my journey, Sun Valley was the very first stop of the reMARKable Odyssey back in November 2025. It was a cold month. The busy summer crowds were long gone, and ski season had not yet begun. Many businesses had shortened hours, some were temporarily closed, and at times, the town felt almost like a ghost town. It’s what the locals refer to as Slack Season, the quiet transitional periods between the peak summer and winter resort seasons.

I spent a lot of time walking.

Partly to explore.

Partly to get out of my Airbnb.

Partly because that’s what I do when I’m trying to make sense of a new chapter in life.

One afternoon, I wandered into a small country-style store called The Farmer’s Daughter. It was warm, welcoming, and filled with keepsakes, gifts, and holiday decorations. I remember the smell of candles and the feeling of stepping out of the cold.

And that’s when I saw it.

The Tale of Two Wolves.

Perhaps you’ve heard it before.

An old Cherokee tells his grandson about the battle between two “wolves” inside every person. One wolf represents anger, fear, resentment, jealousy, greed, and ego. The other represents joy, peace, love, kindness, compassion, forgiveness, and faith.

The grandson asks:

“Which wolf wins?”

The grandfather replies:

“The one you feed.”

I don’t think that was the first time I had encountered the story.

But it was the first time it stopped me — the first time it felt personal.

Maybe it was because I was now working as a coach and could immediately see the connection to the work I was doing with clients.

Or maybe it was because I recognized something familiar in myself.

Like most people, I know both wolves.

The confident wolf and the doubting wolf.

The trusting wolf and the fearful wolf.

The grateful wolf and the resentful wolf.

The battle isn’t always visible from the outside, but it certainly exists inside.

At times, it felt as though my mind was the open field where those two wolves met regularly to settle their differences.

I stood there reading the story and found myself wanting a copy.

They had an inexpensive poster version available, and I seriously considered buying it. But I was living out of Airbnbs, traveling light, and trying to be intentional about what I accumulated along the way.

So instead, I took a picture of it with my phone and moved on.

Or so I thought.

The truth is, I didn’t move on.

The story stayed with me.

The picture remained on my phone.

And over the following seven months, as the Odyssey unfolded, I found myself returning to it again and again.

Then life took an unexpected turn.

As I wrote in my last article, I reached a crossroads and decided to create a Base Camp in Boise. What had started as reMARKable Odyssey evolved into reMARKable Odyssey 2.0 — an approach built around what I call Anchored Freedom.

Three weeks focused on building.

One week, sometimes two, focused on exploration.

A rhythm that allows me to be fully present with both.

When it came time for my first Explore week, I intentionally chose to return to Sun Valley.

It felt fitting.

The place where the Odyssey began would become the place where Odyssey 2.0 officially launched.

Before I left Boise, I made a small promise to myself.

This time, I was going to buy The Tale of Two Wolves and bring it back to my Base Camp.

On my second day in town, I was walking around exploring when I noticed what looked like a sidewalk sale outside a small store.

At first, I almost kept walking.

Then something told me to go inside.

As I stepped through the door, I was immediately confused.

The shelves were mostly gone.

The displays were sparse.

The store felt empty.

It took me a moment to realize where I was.

I was standing in The Farmer’s Daughter — the same store I had visited seven months earlier.

The owner explained that the building had been sold and, after nearly three decades in business, they were closing their doors.

As I looked around the nearly empty store, I spotted it.

The Tale of Two Wolves.

Not as a small poster but a beautifully framed piece of art hanging on the wall.

The posters were gone.

The framed version was all that remained.

I asked about the framed version and discovered it had been marked down significantly as part of the closing sale.

It was still more than I had planned to spend.

But standing there, I knew I wasn’t leaving without it.

A few minutes later, it was mine.

I walked out of the store feeling grateful, excited, and oddly satisfied.

Not because I had purchased a piece of artwork.

But because something about the moment felt meaningful.

Some lessons enter your life quietly, linger in the background, and wait patiently until you’re ready to understand why they arrived.

Maybe it was the timing.

Maybe it was the symbolism.

Maybe it was simply the realization that some lessons have a way of staying with us until we’re ready to receive them more fully.

What strikes me most isn’t that I bought The Tale of Two Wolves.

It’s that the story found me twice.

Once, when I was beginning the Odyssey.

And again, when I was beginning its next chapter.

Looking back, I don’t think I found the story.
I think the story found me.

The wolves haven’t gone anywhere.

They still live within me.

Just as they live within all of us.

Every day presents a choice about which one we feed.

And perhaps that’s why the story stayed with me all these months.

Not because it offered an answer.

But because it continues to ask an important question.

One worth revisiting again and again:

Which wolf are you feeding?