It’s a Daily Discipline
Sweaty Cycles and Quiet Realizations
It’s 21 May 2025, Wednesday evening. I’m outside with three of my children cycling around me. Their laughter fills the air. They’re sweaty, messy, and carefree—everything that pushes against my instinct to keep life perfect, neat, and orderly. But tonight, I just watch. I breathe in this moment because I know these small slices of time are precious. The tiredness I feel after a late night of deep conversations fades into the background.
These ordinary, chaotic moments suddenly feel like the foundation of something bigger—my legacy.
That morning was full of meetings, but one in particular stayed with me. Our lead architect spoke boldly and without hesitation about deadlines, budgets, and practical design concerns that many would rather avoid. At first, his bluntness made me uneasy, but I quickly saw that his urgency wasn’t about ego or awards. It was about faithfulness—to the project, to the future users, and to the mission.
He wasn’t crafting just another beautiful building. He was designing a structure that would breathe, endure, and outlast me. A design where breakdowns and maintenance challenges were anticipated and planned for, so that when troubles inevitably came, the building—and the mission—would survive.
This is leadership: it’s about building for the unseen future, not just the present show.
Nine Years of Building and the Weight of Time
Later, we visited the very first Stella Preschool, where it all began. The rent had tripled since we started nine years ago. It was a harsh reminder of how much time had passed. Nine years—almost one ninth of a life, if I live to 81.
I stood there, papers in hand, thinking: how many nine-year cycles do I really get? How much of myself have I poured into building this? And what am I building now that will last beyond my presence?
That’s when the weight of legacy settled on me—not as an abstract concept, but a pressing reality.
The market where we began was a quiet, empty street nine years ago. We were the crowd-puller, the first commercial operation. Fast forward nine years, the street is alive and expensive. We entered Puteri Harbour in 2019 when it was a ghost town. That gave us leverage to negotiate favorable rent. We survived because we were early. We took deals others wouldn’t touch. That advantage was a blessing, and not something to be hoarded.
Our job isn’t to guard advantage selfishly. It’s to multiply it by making quality education affordable and accessible. That is the true measure of legacy.
When Succession Becomes an Unseen Storm
But the day’s hardest lesson wasn’t about buildings or business—it was about people.
The landlord shared a heartbreaking story. An elderly couple next door, the restaurant owners, had planned to retire and pass the business to their son-in-law. But the auntie fell during a trip to China and can no longer walk. The uncle was diagnosed with cancer and is heading to Singapore for treatment. Then, the son-in-law backed out of taking over the business.
What was meant to be a gentle handover turned into a crisis.
This hit me like a blow. It laid bare a truth many ignore: succession is not something you schedule when you’re ready. It can crash down without warning.
I realized succession must be more than a plan—it must be a mindset embedded deep within the organization and family, long before crisis forces the issue.
This is the wisdom I now carry: Start succession planning when others feel no urgency. Build legacy while you’re still strong, so you’re not scrambling when the storm comes.
Building Strength Before the Fall
At almost 40, I feel the first whispers of time’s effects on my body. Muscle mass will decline. But I’m not working out to impress or compete. I’m investing in muscle now to carry grandchildren, to prevent falls, to remain functional.
Legacy is like planting a tree you may never sit under. You water it daily—not because you’ll enjoy its shade today, but because someone else’s tomorrow depends on it. The roots you nurture now will hold the soil when storms come, even if you’re long gone. Leadership and parenting are that tree. The daily care, the small sacrifices, the imperfect moments—they build a canopy that shelters generations.
This physical investment is a metaphor. Leadership, parenting, and legacy work the same way: the time to build strength is now, before it’s desperately needed.
Many parents wait too long—only realizing the cost when their children have grown distant, when hearts have hardened, and when relationships need repair.
I choose to be present now, imperfect as it is. Messy houses, late bedtimes, sweaty children are the currency of emotional legacy.
The Daily Discipline of Legacy
Later in the day, I met a friend who works with families on financial legacy and corporate succession. He lives deliberately—no screen distractions, selective meetings, deep boundaries.
He reminded me that legacy isn’t a distant finish line. It’s the daily rhythm of choices—what we prioritize, who we say yes to, how we steward time and energy.
As AI accelerates decision-making and information overload, I ask: how do we stay human? How do we keep the heart, presence, and timeless principles alive when everything else is racing ahead?
It’s those qualities that will make our leadership—and our legacy—distinctive and lasting.
Legacy Is Culture, Leadership, and Adaptability
As I sit with these reflections, two profound voices come to mind that deepen my understanding of legacy beyond personal presence.
First, Harvard Business Review teaches us that legacy is not about the power you hold or the title you carry—it’s about the culture, values, and systems you build that continue to thrive after you step away. Legacy is the invisible architecture that sustains mission and vision through generations. It’s about empowering others to lead, creating a fertile ground where leadership multiplies rather than concentrates.
In that sense, succession planning is just one piece of a larger puzzle: culture-building. Without a strong culture, succession becomes handing over a fragile structure, not a living organism.
Then there’s the timeless wisdom of Peter Drucker, who warned that “The greatest danger in times of turbulence is not the turbulence—it is to act with yesterday’s logic.” For legacy to endure, we must not cling to comfort or past practices. Instead, we need to build organizations and leadership that anticipate change, innovate continuously, and remain resilient.
Just like our architect designs the campus with future maintenance and adaptability in mind, legacy leadership demands that we design our organizations and families with flexibility and foresight. It’s a dynamic, ongoing process—not a static handoff.
Both HBR and Drucker remind me that legacy is living culture plus adaptive leadership. It’s the courage to build something that does not rely on a single person’s presence but flourishes because of shared purpose, trust, and continuous renewal.
This is the legacy I want to leave—not a monument, but a movement.
The Reverse Leadership Mindset: Leading by Letting Go
We often believe leadership means holding tight—gripping the reins, controlling outcomes, proving our indispensability. But the truth is paradoxical:
The opposite of leadership isn’t following. It’s self-preservation.
True leaders build legacy not by clinging to power or presence, but by letting go—trusting others to step up, stepping back so the movement grows beyond them.
Legacy is not what you accumulate or control.
It’s what you release and empower others to carry forward.
In this way, leading is less about being at the front and more about becoming the sturdy roots beneath—the silent strength that nourishes life unseen.
Legacy Is How We Live Now
We often think of legacy as what we leave behind. The truth is far more radical:
Legacy is how we live today — in every imperfect, sweaty, messy, loving moment.
It’s the courage to step back so others can step up.
It’s the discipline to build systems and culture before they’re urgently needed.
It’s the love we invest daily, knowing it will ripple beyond us.
So let your children be late to bed tonight. Let the house be less than perfect. Laugh, sweat, and build presence while you still can.
The best time to build legacy is when no one thinks you need to.
