A Leadership Reflection on Fear, Commitment, and the Power of Anchored Values

A Saturday Full of Life

It was a Saturday worth remembering.

I woke up knowing I had missed one day of reflection. Not because I was lazy. Not because I chose comfort over purpose. But because I chose to spend time with people who matter most in my life. If serving people is the highest form of purpose, then that day was not wasted. It was invested.

The morning was LegoLand with my children. Laughter, play, and the small frustrations of family outings, all of it reminded me of what is precious. Later in the day, my children went off for Chinese lessons, and I spent three hours with a young man, helping him chart his life. It was mentally draining. Coaching, when done seriously, is not just talking. It is paying full attention, carrying another person’s burden for a while, and guiding them toward clarity. By the time it ended, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep.

That 10-minute nap was so deep, so heavy, it felt like a glimpse of death. Not in a dark or fearful way, but in the sense that sometimes life brings you to the edge of exhaustion where the only release is rest. It made me think: when death comes, will it feel like that? A slow surrender into stillness?

And yet, after waking, what remained was not dread but gratitude. Gratitude for parents I could share dinner with. Gratitude for simple conversations. Gratitude for being alive to reflect at the end of the day.

The Fear That Once Defined Me

Growing up, fear was my constant companion.

It was rarely about the thing itself. It was about the unknown. I feared marriage not because I doubted love, but because I could not imagine the future. I feared having children not because I disliked them, but because I could not picture myself capable. I feared starting a business not because I hated risk, but because I could not calculate what lay beyond the next step.

The unknown paralyses. It is like standing before a fog-covered road. You do not know if the bridge is stable, if the path continues, or if a cliff awaits. And because you cannot see, you stay still.

Even simple things felt overwhelming. Starting a new conversation. Admitting a weakness. Revealing that I am colorblind. For years I carried the fear that people would look at me differently if they knew. Today I can say it openly. The fear has lost its grip.

But the journey here was long.

When I first considered marriage, I asked myself: what is the worst that can happen? Divorce? Heartbreak? It would not kill me. When I first thought about children, I looked at others who had less ability than me, yet managed. It gave me confidence that parenting, while difficult, was possible. When I thought about business, I asked: what is the worst? Bankruptcy? In 2019 I asked my wife that very question. Could she accept it? She said yes. And so we risked it together.

But now the equation has changed. Back then, it was just us. Today, with 200 staff and over 1,000 students, the weight is heavier. Bankruptcy would no longer just affect my wife and me. It would ripple through families, children, and futures. The responsibility is not just personal. It is communal.

This is the paradox: I was once afraid of small commitments, but bold with reckless risks. Today, I embrace heavy commitments but am cautious about risks that harm others. Fear has shifted. Values have deepened.

Near-Death and Shifting Boundaries

I remember my father gave me a Proton Wira during my final year of university. It cost RM26,000. Not an expensive car by most standards, but to me it was a treasure. I cried driving it from Johor Bahru to Kuala Lumpur. I did not feel I deserved it.

To save petrol, I would carpool, charging RM25 per person, the cost of a bus ticket. University students rarely slept before travel, so we would doze in the car. I was so tired that the only way I could stay awake was to drive faster. 180, sometimes 190 kilometers per hour. It was insane. The car had no ABS, no safety features. I once hit the brakes at 80 and spun two full rounds on the road. It was my first near-death experience.

Back then, the risk seemed small compared to the thrill. Today, I look back and shake my head. Some risks I would never take again.

The same goes for my words. I once spoke recklessly to my parents. “If you are hurt, then be hurt,” I would say. I did not care. Today, I would never risk those relationships.

The same goes for health. I once stayed up late, drank carelessly, ate junk food, and thought nothing of it. Today, I guard sleep and health. Not out of fear, but out of value. I value the relationships I want to sustain. I value the years I want to invest.

The shift is clear: when I was younger, I avoided decisions out of fear. Today, I avoid recklessness out of value.

The Lens of Value

This is where clarity changes everything.

There is a framework by Jeff Bezos, the founder of Amazon, called the Regret Minimization Framework. When he was working on Wall Street, secure and wealthy, he faced a choice. Leave his job to start an online bookstore, or stay comfortable. He asked himself one question: When I am 80 years old, will I regret not trying?

That single question reframed everything. It was no longer about the fear of losing money or reputation. It was about the value of contribution and impact. What would matter more at the end of life: security or significance?

It struck me: the opposite of fear is not courage. It is clarity of value.

Because courage can be inconsistent. One day you feel strong, the next day you shrink. But when your values are clear, the decision makes itself.

Bold Goals That Overrule Fear

The same principle applies in leadership.

Jim Collins called it the BHAG: Big Hairy Audacious Goal. It is the kind of goal that feels impossible, yet unites people. Kennedy’s moonshot in the 1960s is a classic example: “We will land a man on the moon and return him safely before the decade is out.” At the time, the fear of failure was massive. The Soviet Union was ahead. NASA was struggling. But the vision reframed fear into shared purpose.

That is how bold goals work. They do not erase fear. They make fear secondary.

At Stellar, I see this too. Starting the international school was terrifying. Expansion felt impossible. But when the vision was clear not just for us, but for the next generation, the risk became worth carrying. Staff, parents, and students aligned not because fear disappeared, but because value gave us something bigger to move toward.

Fear shrinks people into self-preservation. Shared vision expands them into bold collaboration.

The Courage of Mother Teresa

And perhaps the most moving example is Mother Teresa.

People assume she was fearless. Walking into the slums of Calcutta. Touching the sick, the dying, the rejected. But she confessed often that she was afraid of sickness, afraid of violence, afraid of not having enough resources.

What made her extraordinary was not the absence of fear. It was that her values were stronger. She valued human dignity above her own safety. She valued love above comfort. And so fear lost its power to dictate her choices.

That is the essence of value-driven living. Not that fear disappears, but that it is overruled.

Serving as the Only Way Forward

This is why I say that serving is the highest purpose of life.

When you understand why Mother Teresa served, you have found your purpose. It does not have to be global. It can be for your children, your parents, your students, your community. What matters is that it is anchored in what you truly value.

Because when your values are clear, you stop asking, “Is it worth it, by the world’s standards?” You stop measuring by the ROI others impose. Everyone has a different return on investment. The real question is: what is worth it to you, in light of the values you will not compromise?

The Reverse That Redefines It All

Looking back, I see the paradox.

I once feared marriage. Today, my family is my anchor. I once feared business. Today, leadership is my calling. I once feared being exposed as colorblind. Today, I speak it freely. Fear has not vanished. But value has redefined it.

So here is the reverse insight I leave with you:

The opposite of fear is not courage. It is clarity of value.

And when you live with that clarity, fear no longer decides your future. Value does.