Brewing Ideas in the Quiet Hours

Every night I tell myself I will cycle. Yet fatigue often wins more than I do. What remains consistent is the two and a half hours I dedicate to myself daily. One and a half in the gym, one hour walking Loki, and in between, reflection. For some people, those same hours are lost in traffic. An hour to work, another back home. For me, they become a daily investment. Not wasted, but multiplied. Not for entertainment, but for health, clarity, and legacy.

It feels almost like an early rehearsal for retirement, except instead of idleness, it is filled with purposeful rhythm. The gym sharpens my body, the walk with Loki clears my mind, and the reflections brew ideas. Just like kopi-o in a kopitiam, legacy is never instant. Instant coffee fills the cup but lacks depth. Real coffee takes time to brew. The aroma builds slowly, bitterness and sweetness combining into something richer. That is how legacy is built. It brews.

The Sustainable Development Award has been brewing in my thoughts ever since Kuching. We were recognised as top 30 finalist in 2025, yet I cannot shake this question: What does it take to not just win, but to make it meaningful? How can we create something measurable, replicable, and scalable, so that the award becomes a platform for legacy, not a certificate for recognition?

Awards are given in a moment. Legacy is built daily. That is the tension.

Wins That Go Beyond Celebration

This reflection sharpened during our Merdeka Day celebration. It was a colourful, joyous event. Yet beneath the music, the costumes, and the speeches, there were deeper wins.

The first win was cultural. I remember a Russian boy told me before, “I am Malaysian.” He did not mean by passport, but by heart. Malaysia currently hosts over 170,000 international students, many of whom struggle with identity. Yet here, through culture and history, a foreign student found belonging. That is significant. It means our work is not just teaching subjects, but creating home.

The second win was institutional. A senior officer from MBIP attended and watched carefully. Afterwards he said, “Stellar should be a superbrand of Malaysia.” He was not referring to profits or marketing. He was speaking of identity. For MBIP has won the low carbon city awards in 2024, the alignment was powerful. For Stellar to be seen as a brand carrying the pride of a city and a nation is both an encouragement and a responsibility.

The third win was personal. Later that evening, my son Eann confessed something. “Dad, I was afraid you might forget your speech.” He was not worried about himself, but about me. That is his nature. He sees details others miss. “Did I forget anything?” I asked. “No,” he replied, “but I was afraid for you.” In that simple conversation, I saw something profound. Our children do not just watch what we do. They carry the weight of our presence, our vulnerabilities, our humanity.

But the greatest win of the day was a girl named Valerie Loh. The theme was “frontliners.” Students came dressed as doctors, firefighters, police officers, nurses. Valerie stood differently. She dressed simply, almost plainly. At first, I thought she was helping teachers line up the younger children. When her turn came, I realised her choice. She walked the stage not as a glamorous professional, but as a teacher.

Her presence on stage was quiet yet strong. She carried herself not as a performer but as someone who had already accepted a role. When she won, I handed her the prize and asked, “Are you serious that you want to be a teacher?” She nodded firmly. “Then you should be a teacher of Stellar,” I told her. Again, she nodded.

It was more than a costume. It was a declaration. She was saying, “I want to carry the light I have received and give it back.” That moment was worth more than any trophy.

But it also raised a deeper question. Why only one Valerie? Why not more? Why is she the exception? Have we not planted enough seeds for more students to rise with the same desire to give back? That question has stayed with me ever since.

Valerie’s Choice and the Question It Raised

Valerie’s dream aligns with what John Maxwell calls the Law of Legacy: a leader’s lasting value is measured by succession. Our worth is not in how many awards we win, but in how many leaders rise after us to carry the mission further. Valerie is evidence that the seeds are working. But she is only one.

Stephen Covey’s Begin With the End in Mind is equally relevant. Awards without alignment to the future are hollow. If the end is raising a generation of leaders who are self-aware, teachable, resilient, and significant, then our present must reflect that vision.

James Clear’s principle that habits are the compound interest of self-improvement points us to practical steps. What if we built a habit of regular life check-ins with students, the same way I do with my children and my team? These small, consistent reflections would compound into transformation.

And yet the question remains. Why only one Valerie?

The Paradox of Busy Yet Present

This reflection connects deeply with my children. They often tell me they wish I was less busy so I could spend more time with them. They are right that my life is full, from the moment I wake until the time I sleep. My thoughts are always working, even when I am still.

Yet presence is not only measured in hours. I reminded them that many fathers are absent not because of busyness, but because of distance. I am busy, but I am present. The key is involvement. It is not enough to be physically nearby. They long for me to be part of what they do, to watch what they watch, to be engaged in their world.

To explain, I showed them an image of an intersection. “At this point, is it horizontal or vertical?” I asked. They could not answer. “It is both,” I said. At the intersection, you experience both directions.

This is how I live. When we went to Kuching, I arrived a day earlier to be fully present with the family. The next day, I worked for half an hour during lunch, with a virtual background to hide the setting. Then I returned to the table with them. I was both busy and present. Work and family. Award and legacy. The best of both worlds is found at the intersection.

This intersection is also the truth about sustainability. Malaysia faces a brain drain of nearly two million citizens overseas. Many of our brightest talents see education only as a path out. Valerie represents a reversal. She sees education as a way back in. That is the kind of sustainable win that matters.

Legacy Is Greater Than Recognition

Awards have value, but only when they point us toward legacy. Recognition is useful for visibility, but without transformation it is hollow.

Maxwell’s Law of Process reminds us that leadership develops daily, not in a day. The same is true for legacy. Coffee takes time to brew. So does character. So does leadership.

In Purposebility’s vocabulary, culture comes before strategy, and identity before position. Valerie’s choice is a product of culture. The challenge is to make sure there are more Valeries, not by chance but by design.

Malaysia has 2.91 million households in the B40 category. For these families, education is the single most powerful path to transformation. If we create systems that raise students who are growth-ready, impact-ready, and future-ready, then we will not only win awards, we will change lives.

The real measure of success is not how loud the applause is, but how deep the impact goes.

From Reflection to Action

Reflection without action is wasted. Legacy without systems remains a dream.

The first step is to institutionalise student check-ins. Just as I check in with my children and my team, we can guide students to reflect on their lives regularly. They can measure themselves on the STARS values: Self-Awareness, Teachability, Attitude, Relationships, and Significance. They can identify areas of focus and commit to small actions. Over time, data will show measurable growth.

The second step is to extend impact outward. With Zoom and technology, our students can mentor peers from underprivileged backgrounds. They can support undocumented children, B40 families, or communities without access to quality education. Each small act creates ripples.

The third step is to redefine awards. They are not ends, but platforms. They give us a stage, but their true value lies in inspiring the next level of change. This aligns with Simon Sinek’s principle of the Infinite Game. The goal is not to win once, but to keep the mission alive across generations.

The Reverse That Redefines It All

The greatest danger is mistaking recognition for legacy. Recognition ends when the applause fades. Legacy continues when a student like Valerie chooses to carry the torch further.

The Sustainable Development Award is important. But the real award is not on the stage. It is in the hearts of the next generation.

The next generation is the only award that matters.