A Life Not Wasted

It was a heavy Tuesday. I sat alone in the sauna, clock ticking at 7:10 p.m. It’s rare I’m alone. Even rarer when I’m so close to the edge of stress. The kind that doesn’t scream—but simmers.

Earlier that day, I had to lead a tough conversation. One of those emotionally taxing meetings every leader dreads, especially when it opens the new term. But that’s what leadership demands sometimes—not comfort, but courage. Not perfection, but presence.

We had our Tuesday core meeting—the first of the new term. In a blink, the first term of 2025 had passed. It made me pause and realize: the older I get, the more conscious I am of time. And ironically, the more conscious I am of time, the faster it seems to move.

From Term to Transformation

Our meeting wasn’t just business—it was reflection. A review of what went well, what must stop, and what’s worth starting. The classic Start–Stop–Continue.

It sounds simple, but reflection is unfamiliar territory in high-speed environments. It’s often dismissed as a luxury reserved for those with extra time. But I believe—no reflection, no refinement. No refinement, no growth.

We revisited our one-page Stellar Plan—the vision we cast at the start of the year. Some things we nailed. Some are in motion. Some? We missed. But that’s okay. Plans are tools, not prisons. The key is clarity, not perfection. Justify the “miss,” recalibrate, and move forward.

It reminded me: education systems can shape or strangle us. Standardization isn’t the enemy. Mindless adherence is.

Surface vs. Substance: Can You Tell When Someone’s Lost?

As we reflected, I noticed something:

• Some leaders had clarity, but struggled to transfer it.
• Some reflected deeply and honestly.
• Some… were clearly lost but pretended not to be.

Here’s the thing: when someone’s lost, others can tell. Even if they can talk the talk. Body language, word choices, vague answers—it all shows.

And that’s dangerous. Because when a leader loses clarity, the whole team starts drifting.

Don’t Chase Fruit. Strengthen the Roots.

Everyone wants visible results. Impact. Recognition. Success. But trees don’t grow by chasing fruit. They grow by strengthening roots.

And the strongest trees? They grow in concrete.

I once saw a plant—tiny, fragile-looking—burrowed into a concrete wall. No soil. No nutrients. Just a hairline crack. But it clung. It grew. And eventually, when someone tried to pull it off—the plant held so tight, it tore the wall down with it.

Strength doesn’t scream. It roots.

The same principle applies to leadership. You don’t ask permission from the wind to grow. You anchor deeper.

Business Maturity: The 33-Year-Old Life Stage

I’ve begun to see business like life.

Your early years? They’re about exposure. Exploration. Trial and error. But around age 33, something shifts. You start asking different questions. Not just what am I doing—but why? Not just success—but significance.

That’s when priorities realign:

• Fun friends fade, and growth-centered ones emerge.
• You think less about consumption and more about contribution.
• You stop running from failure and start walking toward legacy.

And I believe: just as people hit this inflection point, so do organisations.

At Stellar, we’re at that stage. We’ve passed the survival years. We’re not scrambling for oxygen anymore. We’re breathing. Standing. Thinking.

So we asked: what do we want to scale for?

And that led to a deeper reflection—one that brought me back to my own story.

Three Paths: Love, Skill, Passion

People often say: “Do what you love.” Others say: “Do what you’re good at.” And some say: “Do what you’re passionate about.”

But what if they don’t align?

Let me tell you my story.

I loved photography. So much that I wanted to major in it. But my mum, with her traditional views, vetoed it. Said it wasn’t practical.

So I ended up in accountancy. And I was really good at it. Not just good—I excelled. Grasped concepts easily. Solved problems others couldn’t. Even helped my boss sort out things seasoned accountants struggled with.

But… I didn’t love it.

Then came teaching. I started giving tuition to buy myself a camera—something I loved. I didn’t expect to love teaching. But when I saw students transform—from giving up on themselves to deciding to fight for their future—I felt something ignite. That was passion.

And that passion never left me.

Eventually, I landed a job teaching accountancy at a prestigious college in Johor Bahru. There, something magical happened:

• I taught what I was good at (accounting).
• I continued what I loved (photography) as club advisor.
• I lived out what I was passionate about (life impact).

That intersection didn’t just give me energy. It gave me joy. Deep, soul-rooted joy.

What If You Can’t Have All Three?

Some people never get the luxury of aligning all three. So what then?

• If you want comfort—start with what you’re good at.
• If you want fulfilment—prioritise what you’re passionate about.

When these values clash, choose passion.

Because skills can be developed. Love can evolve. But passion—true passion—is that rare internal flame. If it dies, so does something inside of you.

Nothing Is Wasted

Looking back, nothing was wasted:

• My accounting skill now helps me lead with strategy and clarity.
• My love for photography gave birth to a production studio—and joy in capturing my children’s moments.
• My passion for teaching evolved into a deeper purpose: building schools, communities, and families.

Everything has its place. But you don’t see the picture until you step back far enough.

So if you’re in your early 30s, start asking the real questions now:

• What trajectory are you setting?
• What will you regret not choosing?
• What story will your life tell 10 years from now?

Because like a plane, a one-degree shift today determines whether you land in the right country—or miss it by thousands of miles.

One Final Reflection: Today Is the Youngest You’ll Ever Be

Whatever season you’re in—this is your youngest day left.

Start something.

Recalibrate.

Choose again.

Make decisions your future self will thank you for.

And maybe, just maybe—you’ll look back and say:

“You didn’t waste it. I’m proud of you.”