By Daniel Loh | April 23, 2025 | Reflections at 8:48 p.m.
It’s Wednesday evening. I’m walking our dog, Loki, while my sons, Aden and Eann, cycle ahead. Before this, we paused for a photo—just one moment, frozen in time.
Today was exhausting.
I had four hours of sleep last night. I tried sleeping early, but my skin was unbearably itchy. Not pain—itch. The kind that doesn’t just interrupt sleep—it unravels your patience.
But I still went to school.
Why?
Because lying in bed would’ve left me more frustrated, not more rested. If I was going to struggle either way, I might as well struggle with purpose.
A Conversation Before 8 a.m.
I arrived to find a colleague already in the office—earlier than usual. Turns out, he’d had an argument with his wife. So we talked.
He’s two years into marriage. I’m ten years in.
He was trying to “solve” his wife’s emotions, and feeling stuck. I told him something I’ve learned the hard way:
“She’s not a puzzle to fix. She’s a person to understand.”
As men, we often lead with logic. But our wives—our partners—lead with emotion. It’s not irrational. It’s human.
I said, “Think of her like water—you’re the anchor. Her waves may rise and fall, but your calm, patient presence gives stability.”
That’s reverse leadership:
Not leading by control, but by composure.
Not fixing the problem, but absorbing the weight.
Not being the loudest in the room, but the safest.
What Itchiness Taught Me: 3 Life Lessons
This itch wasn’t just physical—it became metaphor.
1. Scratching Feels Good—But Hurts Later
I knew I shouldn’t scratch. But I did. It brought momentary relief, then lasting sting. In the shower, it burned.
How often do we do this emotionally?
We react in anger. We say what we “feel” instead of what’s wise. We scratch. And later? We feel the relational damage.
Leadership—especially at home—isn’t about reacting. It’s about resisting the urge to scratch, and instead, applying calm: reflection, prayer, counsel, space.
2. Steroids vs. Snacks
I hesitated to use steroid cream—worried about long-term effects. But I eat junk snacks without hesitation.
Which is really more harmful?
We often fear the visible “medicine” while blindly indulging daily poison. Whether it’s diet, decisions, or digital habits—what we fear isn’t always the real threat. What we normalize might be.
3. Self-Control Is the Real Cure
I want to grow old strong. I want my kids to experience my strength, not carry my regrets. That long-term vision shapes my short-term choices.
Self-control isn’t restriction. It’s alignment.
It’s not about saying “no” to life—it’s saying “yes” to what truly matters.
That’s reverse leadership again:
Where the leader isn’t driven by impulse, but by values.
Where discipline isn’t imposed on others—it’s modelled inward first.
Parenting Through Presence
Today, Aden joined a chess competition. When I asked how it went, he said, “I won half. I lost half.”
I replied, “Sometimes we win. Sometimes we learn.”
We unpacked every loss. Not to correct it—but to mine it for wisdom. Because failure isn’t the opposite of success—it’s the tuition you pay for it.
That’s the mindset I want in my kids. Not perfection. Purposeful resilience.
Multiplier-tasking, not multitasking
Tonight, I walked Loki in the park.
At the same time, I reflected. I processed. I documented. I created this article. Six outcomes—one act:
1. Time with My Sons
Relational Legacy
I build trust through shared rhythm, not forced talks.
I model presence in motion—leadership they can feel, not just hear.
Every step together sends one message: “I’m here with you, and I’ll keep showing up.”
This is how I strengthen their identity—and quietly shape future fathers and leaders.
2. 2km Walk with 1.5kg Knee Weights
Mental, Physical, and Identity Discipline
I strengthen my body and mind—gently, daily, without drama.
The added resistance trains not just my knees, but my will.
Every walk is a signal to myself: I show up even under weight.
I return clearer, lighter, and more focused than when I began.
3. A Moment with Loki
Compassion and Grounding
Loki keeps me anchored in the now—no judgement, just presence.
This isn’t just about walking the dog. It’s about practicing kindness in the ordinary.
He reminds me to laugh, to pause, to be simple again.
And he connects me and my sons through shared care and joy.
4. Voice Reflections While Walking
Leadership Clarity On-the-Move
As I walk, I speak out loud what matters most.
Ideas come unstuck. Emotions surface. Insight flows.
I don’t chase perfection—I capture truth in motion.
These voice notes are not just content—they’re clarity, caught in real time.
5. A Deeper Marital Insight
Relational Wisdom in Solitude
In the quiet space of walking, I often see my marriage more clearly.
Moments I missed, grace I received, truth I avoided—they all rise gently.
This reflection makes me a better partner: slower to speak, quicker to understand.
Love deepens when I listen—first to myself, then to her.
6. Post-Walk Article Creation
Purpose-Driven Thought Leadership
I don’t write to perform—I write to understand, to serve, to remember.
The walk clarifies. The voice note records. The article refines.
This is not a task—it’s the overflow of an aligned life.
Each piece I write carries real steps, lived out first.
This is not multitasking. It’s multiplier-tasking: Aligning physical, emotional, spiritual, intellectual, and relational energy—into one integrated rhythm.
Salt and Light
Doing one thing—layered with purpose. Aligning your day with your values.
And in all of it, I try to live like salt and light:
- Salt adds flavour—making life richer for those around me.
- Light gives clarity—guiding others through what they can’t yet see.
Whether it’s a morning conversation about marriage, or a night-time moment with my boys, I want my leadership to be invisible but impactful—anchored, not flashy. Quiet, but clear.
Final Prompt:
What discomfort are you facing right now that might be a teacher in disguise?
Don’t waste it. Pause. Reflect. Lead—differently.
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