Learning Not To Waste My Life

When Busyness Becomes Self-Sabotage

It is funny how God arranges timing.

On 15 November 2025, at 11.23 p.m., I was not planning to do any reflection at all. I had already missed one day. I was ready to miss a second. My routine was broken, my head was tired, and my dog Loki was probably unhappy with me for skipping our usual walks.

If you know me, you know this. I am routine-driven to the point that when my rhythm is off, I feel as if part of me is dying inside. Daily reflections. Daily writing. Daily movement. These are not “nice to have” items for me. They sit somewhere between oxygen and food. When I do not hit them, I feel restless, almost suffocated.

So when I chose cycling over reflection two days in a row, it was not casual. It was my way of breaking my own law. I was testing whether my identity had become trapped in my own discipline.

Then my friend’s bicycle chain snapped twenty minutes into the ride.

In that small disruption, I saw an opening.

No more cycling. Space for walking. Space for Loki. Space for reflection.

And in that walk, in that opening, one sentence from Stephen Covey’s book returned and would not let me go:

“For every thousand hacking at the leaves of evil, there is one striking at the root.”

Suddenly, everything in my last forty-eight hours snapped into focus.

I realised my problem was not the number of things I was doing.

It was how many of those hits were landing on leaves, not roots.

This reflection is the story of those two days. The struggle, the noise, the quiet, and the question that now haunts my leadership:

How many of my strikes are actually hitting the root, and how many are just making noise in the leaves?

Two Days Of Noise, One Heart Looking For The Root

Let me rewind the tape.

The last two days were packed in a way that looked productive from outside, and felt suffocating from inside.

Friday morning:

I spent the whole morning coaching a potential senior leader at Stellar. This is our third long session, each around four hours. I see huge potential in her. Every hour I invest there feels like it multiplies a thousandfold, because if she grows into her leadership, it will not just affect her. It will affect the whole organisation.

There are private reasons I feel called to walk with her that I cannot disclose. They are between us, God, and the future we are building. So I treat it almost like ministry. Whether or not she ends up in that formal role, I know this investment is meaningful.

Friday afternoon and evening:

We rushed back for a quick debrief. Then we headed into our Seven Habits book reading club. We had even done one extra prep session just to get ready for that night.

And then, one by one, people dropped out.

“Sorry, cannot make it.”

“Something came up.”

“Next round I join.”

By the time we started, the group was mostly empty.

I was disappointed, annoyed, and honestly, frustrated. I had invested my time, my energy, my preparation. I expressed my disappointment openly in the group. Not to shame them, but because commitment matters to me. If you say you will grow, then grow. If you say you will show up, then show up.

But then the question hit me. What is the real purpose of this book club?

Is it to build leaders or to punish inconsistency?

Is it to grow people or to defend my effort?

We had already benefited from the first round of reading. The second round was meant to be for others. In the process, we would shift from “consuming” the material to “facilitating” it. The teacher always learns the most. Teach to learn. That is one of my core beliefs.

So even though the no-shows hurt, the truth was this. The time was not wasted. We did grow. We did sharpen our understanding. I was simply reacting, not responding.

In Covey’s language, I was being reactive, not proactive. I had not clearly set expectations at the beginning. I had not communicated the seriousness of the commitment “by hook or by crook.” Yet I was disappointed as if I had.

That lack of clarity was on me.

Friday night: GLS and an 18-year-old boy from KL

The day did not end there.

At night, we hosted a Global Leadership Summit (GLS) home group. This is not “work.” This is something we do for the community, because we believe in raising leaders, not only in Stellar but in Johor Bahru and beyond.

One of the attendees was an 18-year-old young man from KL. His journey to JB had not been pleasant. If I judged him based on my own maturity, I would probably label him ungrateful.

But I still remember being 18. Away from home. New environment. New city. Feeling lost.

KL is vibrant. JB, in his mind, is “boring.”

I wanted to show him that there is at least one thing worth staying for. A community that sees him, hears him, and cares.

So I picked him up personally from his hostel. Gave him my best self after a full, crazy day. Brought him to my home. Hosted him. Fed him. Tried to create a safe space for him.

He did not know what my day had been like. He just walked into the car, chill and casual, as he should. It is not his job to carry my burden.

At the end, I asked him to rate his JB experience. He gave it a three out of five. Homesick. Missing KL, his friends, his family.

But because of this one gathering, this one conversation, he said it went up to four out of five.

I appreciated his honesty. And I noticed something. Whether it was a potential senior leader in the morning or this young boy at night, the deepest currency was the same.

Attention.

To feel seen.

To feel heard.

To feel that someone is giving you their best in that moment.

Saturday: The day the roles collided

The next day did not become easier.

Morning: Kids. Church. Work. Everything integrated into one continuous flow.

I invited my wife for breakfast. She said she wanted to rest and turned me down. I respected it. So I brought the kids along as I met a potential key collaborator who might become an important partner.

The restaurant scene felt like a movie. Children messy. Table chaotic. I am half in the conversation, half in father mode. Thankfully, the collaborator has five children himself, so he smiled and took it in stride. But internally, it was not easy. It was heavy, noisy, and tiring.

We went home.

Then my wife announced she would go shopping with my mother-in-law.

My honest reaction inside: “Really? Now?”

I did not say it. I just said, “Okay, enjoy.”

So I stayed with all four children. Carried my four-month-old daughter to sleep. Managed lunch. The boys were not angels. Like any normal boys, they were loud, messy, and alive. I tried to encourage them. Then I had to be firm. Then encourage again. While doing that, I cleaned the fish tank, prepared the house because guests were coming for dinner.

I had also scheduled an appointment. Originally, I thought my wife would help put the kids to sleep while I met this couple. But she was not home.

So I postponed the appointment by 30 minutes. Took a short break. Locked myself in the room. Texted my pastor and poured out all my negative emotions to him.

“I need to unload to maintain my sanity.”

It was not dramatic. It was survival.

Then I came out, hosted the appointment at home. They felt a bit awkward. “We were supposed to meet at school. Suddenly we are in your house.” But we still had a meaningful conversation.

While this was happening, the church texted. “Daniel, service is starting. Where are you? You are the host.”

So I wrapped up the meeting as gently as I could. Rushed to church, which is in the school. Hosted the congregation. As soon as I finished, I rushed home. Woke the kids. Brought them back to church to mingle and be part of the community. Afterwards, rushed home again to prepare the dinner and host the evening.

By the end, I was drained.

Physically, emotionally, mentally.

Husband. Father. Host. Friend. Partner. Leader.

All these roles overlapped without any clean lines.

When the crowd left, there was a little space left in the day. I looked at the time and thought, “I am not a machine. I am completely drained.” I decided not to force another reflection. I took the bicycle out and went cycling instead.

Then the chain broke.

And that is how I ended up walking Loki in the dark, finally reflecting, with my body tired and my heart wide open.

The 1000–500–1 Pattern: Mastery, Disappointment, And The Root

As I walked, exhausted but strangely awake on the inside, one sentence echoed from our Seven Habits reading:

“For every thousand hacking at the leaves of evil, there is one striking at the root.”

And suddenly, my last two days became a living picture of that quote.

I started asking myself uncomfortable questions.

How many of the things I am doing are leaves?

How many are roots?

How many are simply part of the journey of mastery?

If I put numbers to it, it looked something like this:

• Out of 1000 strikes
  • 1 hits the root
  • 500 are part of mastery
  • 499 are pure wastage

It is tempting to say, “I want to skip the 999 and go straight to the 1.”

But that is not how growth works.

I believe in the Law of Process. Some repeated actions are necessary. You need the reps. You need the struggle. You need the friction. That is where muscles, resilience, and wisdom are formed.

So the real question is not, “How do I skip the 999?”

The real question is, “How many of the 999 are actually part of my journey of mastery, and how many are simply my failure to discern?”

That small shift in question changes everything.

The 3 Zones Of Effort

Let me name the three zones more clearly.

1. The 499 Wasted Hits

These are the actions driven by:

• People-pleasing
• Ego
• Guilt
• Indecision
• Lack of boundaries
• Reactivity instead of clarity

Examples in these two days:

• Showing disappointment at the missing book club attendees without first acknowledging that I had not set clear expectations.
• Letting internal frustrations accumulate across roles without naming them or grounding them.
• Carrying unprocessed emotional weight into family moments that needed calm, not spillover.

These hits do not build character. They only drain energy.

2. The 500 Mastery Hits

These are repeated actions that are tiring but necessary.

• Coaching a potential leader for four hours, again.
• Showing up to GLS after a long day, again.
• Hosting, parenting, cleaning, adjusting plans, again.
• Practising the art of attention, again.

These are not glamorous. They do not always feel efficient. But they are part of your inner training. This is where Self-Awareness, Teachability, Attitude, Relationships, and Significance are shaped.

This is STARS in slow motion.

3. The 1 Root Strike

This is the decisive insight or action that changes everything.

In this reflection, the root strike is not a big public act.

It is a quiet internal shift:

“I want to minimise the wasted 499 hits, without resenting the 500 mastery hits. I want my life to be fast, sharp, accurate, without becoming hard, cold, or transactional.”

In Chinese, we say 快狠准 (kuai hen zun).

Fast. Fierce. Accurate.

I want that quality in my leadership, but anchored in Stellar’s PVMC.

Purpose: To inspire the dream of a better world through innovating education and transforming lives.

Vision: To raise a generation of STARS for a sustainable future.

Mission: To empower global citizens with lifelong learning for an ever-changing world.

A life that keeps swinging at leaves does not raise STARS.

It only raises stressed people.

The Serenity Prayer completes the equation:

“Lord, give me the courage to change the things which can and ought to be changed, the serenity to accept the things that cannot be changed, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

Courage is needed for the root strike.

Serenity is needed to release the leaves.

Wisdom is needed to recognise which is which.

This is not just spiritual. It is leadership.

• Courage without serenity burns you out.
• Serenity without courage becomes passivity.
• Wisdom without action is just theory.

Leadership that matters requires all three.

How To Move From 999 Leaves To 1 Root

If this reflection stays as a nice story, it will become one more leaf.

So here is a simple way to apply it.

Step 1: Name Your 500 Mastery Hits

Ask yourself:

• What are the repeated actions in my life that are tiring, but are clearly part of who I am meant to become?
• Where am I building character, not just ticking tasks?

Examples for me:

• Coaching leaders, even when it is emotionally heavy.
• Showing up for my kids, even when meetings clash.
• Hosting and building community, not because it is convenient, but because it aligns with my calling.
• Reflecting and writing, even when my perfectionism wants to avoid it.

Write them down. These are your “necessary repetitions.”

Do not resent them. Honour them. They are your training ground.

Step 2: Identify Your 499 Wasted Hits

Now, ask the harder question:

• Which actions take a lot of my energy but do not move me closer to purpose, vision, or meaningful impact?
• What do I do purely out of guilt, habit, or fear of disappointing people?

For me, in these two days, some examples were:

• Responding with disappointment to the missing book club attendees without first setting standards.
• Carrying silent frustrations throughout the day instead of naming what I felt and what I needed.
• Letting emotional overload spill into the home before grounding myself.

These are the 499 hits I want to minimise.

Not overnight, but intentionally.

Use these three questions:

1. Does this align with my purpose?
2. Does this grow me or drain me?
3. If I never did this again, what is the real consequence?

If the honest answer is “no alignment, always draining, no real consequence,” it is probably a leaf, not a root.

Step 3: Clarify Your 1 Root Strike

Finally, ask:

What is one change, habit, or decision that, if I commit to it, will reduce a huge amount of unnecessary hitting at leaves?

Examples of root strikes might be:

• Setting clear expectations at the start of any growth commitment.
• Protecting a weekly block of time for deep reflection and writing.
• Establishing shared understanding with your spouse about roles and rhythms.
• Saying “no” to good activities that do not belong to this season.

For me, one root strike is this:

I will stop confusing my identity with my routine.

My worth is not defined by whether I keep every single daily streak.

My routines exist to serve purpose, not to become idols.

When I free myself from that internal prison, I choose reflection because it is meaningful, not because I am terrified of breaking a streak.

That change alone impacts how I lead, how I love, and how I show up.

How To Begin Tomorrow

Do not redesign your entire life in one night.

Take one simple first step.

At the end of tomorrow, write down three hits.

• One that felt wasted.
• One that felt like mastery.
• One that felt like a root strike.

Ask yourself:

“What can I learn from this pattern?”

Repeat for thirty days.

Your clarity will rise.

Your wasted hits will drop.

Your root strikes will increase.

The Real Opposite Of A Life That Matters

For a long time, I thought the opposite of a meaningful life was laziness.

If you do nothing, your life is wasted.

If you are disciplined, your life counts.

Simple.

But these two days exposed a deeper truth.

You can be very disciplined and still waste your life.

You can hit a thousand times a day and never touch the root.

The real opposite of a life that matters is not laziness, it is busy waste.

Busy in the wrong battles.

Busy defending your disappointment.

Busy reacting instead of responding.

Busy hacking at leaves with sincerity but zero accuracy.

The better question is no longer, “Am I working hard enough?”

It is, “Am I striking the right place?”

One thousand hacking at the leaves of evil, one striking at the root.

I want to be that one.

Not because I am smarter.

Not because I am more spiritual.

But because I am willing to do the hidden work:

• To name my wasted hits.
• To embrace my mastery hits.
• To seek, with God’s help, the wisdom to know the difference.

In the end, leadership is not about how many times you swing.

It is about whether your life is willing to aim for the root.