What If Less Really Is More?

It was 8:46 p.m. when I paused to reflect. Not 9pm. Not midnight. Just a small window carved out by the limits of the day. Sometimes I begin this reflection at 10. Sometimes 2 in the morning. But tonight, it came early. A rare quiet moment. I have learned that when life feels limited, when time is short, resources tight or energy thin, something precious happens. Scarcity becomes sacredness. Limits, when embraced, can become a gift.

We chase freedom by wanting more. More time, more money, more capacity. But sometimes it is the limits that carve out what is sacred. My grandfather once said that a rice bowl cracks when it is overfilled. It is the rim that holds the blessing together. Family, leadership, legacy, these are no different.

Family Lessons in a Limited World

This morning I sat for breakfast with Eann. My wife was cleaning the house. It was not just a routine wipe-down. It was the kind of deep, careful sorting that only happens when her xian qing (闲情) shows up. In Chinese, xian qing means a quiet spirit. A leisure of the mind. An unhurried mood that makes space for beauty. It cannot be forced. When it comes, she does what I do not see or think of. She clears out things I did not even know were clutter. It is the same spirit that makes a poet pick up a brush or an artist hold a broom.

My mother has the same gift for order, but her way is different. She does it with consistency. She is ten times more vigilant, more routine, more relentless. Both ways have their limits and their gifts. Some things are sacred because they come once in a blue moon. Others are precious because they come like clockwork. There is no point comparing them. The tension is what holds the gift.

After breakfast, I brought Eann to visit my parents. We only had half an hour, maybe one. That shortness made it sacred. When you know time is short, you do not waste it on complaints. There is no room for small talk about what is irritating. There is only space for what really matters. Scarcity sharpens focus.

I remember last year when I gave my boys a simple reward. They could each choose something worth RM10 at 7-Eleven. You might think RM10 is nothing. But that day, it became everything. It was the longest time we ever spent in a convenience store. They debated, counted coins, argued, made deals. Aden, the older one, tried to broker with Eann. Combine yours and mine. Get something bigger. The limit forced them to think harder than abundance ever would. Scarcity is not just a burden. It is a forge.

Researchers back this up. Studies show that constraints sharpen creativity. Too many choices can paralyse you. Too few can push you. It is not having everything that makes us wise. It is learning how to choose within our limits (That explains why I couldn’t choose what I want to eat when there are too many options).

Blame vs. Ownership

After lunch that day, something happened in the car. I overheard the boys talking about dropping my laptop. My wife stayed quiet and let them explain. I asked them, “Aden, Eann, what happened?” They took turns blaming each other. “Because he did this, I did that.” It was classic. So I asked again, “Who is willing to own up? Who will take this, even if it was not fully your fault?”

They did not get it. So I told them a simple story. “Imagine I am sick after dinner. Who will own the job of washing the dishes? You could say you did not make me sick. You did not cook the meal. But you can still choose to own the work.” I shared another example. Just days before, when Eann got hurt in the car, I apologised to him. He asked me, “Daddy, why did you apologise? It was not your fault.” I told him, “That does not matter. As your father, I am responsible. I could have done better. Owning up is not about blame. It is about standing tall.”

This is one of the greatest hidden gifts of limitation. When you know you cannot control everything, you learn to take responsibility for what you can. We think blame protects us. It does not. Blame robs us of power. Ownership is where leadership begins, even in a child.

Scarcity Shapes Character

This idea is everywhere once you learn to see it. I see it during our coaching sessions. Sometimes a team has 2 hours to talk about big issues and makes no progress. Other times, we have only 15 minutes and clarity appears. A tight limit cuts through the noise. It forces you to get to the heart.

I see it in how my parents and I make our short visits count. In how my wife brings beauty out of a house in chaos, but only when the mood, the xian qing, shows up. In how Aden and Eann, given just RM10 each, learned more about value than they ever could with unlimited choices.

I see it in the small things too. Just this evening, I went jogging with Aden and Eann. They wanted to stop when they were tired, but I told them, ‘Life is tough, be tougher!‘ One fell, scraped a knee, but got up and ran again. They learned that you do not break when you hit the limit. You grow stronger by meeting it.

I see it in my own leadership. At Stellar, when resources are tight, when people feel the fear of losing control, we see what we are really made of. This is the paradox. Constraints can make us small and defensive or they can make us creative and brave. We are facing this now as we protect our culture. A leader misusing authority can create fear. The easy thing is to gossip or blame. But that is not what our Family Decree stands for. Our job is to protect people and still respect the authority that deserves respect. That tension is the test. This is the gift and the test of limitation.

The Family Decree: A Limit That Frees

When I thought about our fourth child’s arrival, our first daughter, I knew I needed to write this down. A Family Decree. Not just a wish list. A living limit. A boundary that shapes how we show up in the world.

So we did it. Ten lines:

1. Do whatever it takes to do what is right, with legal, ethical and moral integrity.
2. Take massive action toward our purpose, dreams and goals.
3. Do it well or do not do it at all.
4. Love to solve problems. Problems make us stronger and more valuable.
5. Seek the truth, speak the truth, walk the truth and live the truth, even when it is hard.
6. Get rich doing what we love. Be generous givers and excellent receivers.
7. Deliver what we promise, when we promise. Do it in spite of fear.
8. Stand like a rock on principles and character. Swim like a fish for style and grace.
9. Respect our work and our craft. Do it for mastery, not for praise.
10. Keep walking the path of mastery every single day.

It is not perfect. It is not fixed in stone. But it is a limit. It says: this is who we are, no matter what we have or do not have. These lines shape the freedom our children will grow into: Aden, Eann, Evan, and soon, the baby girl who is coming tomorrow.

A Legacy Carried by Choice

I told Aden about identity over lunch. We are boys. We are the LOH family. We are eldest sons. But that is only the surface. Behind that name is a story that came long before you or me. It carries the choices and sacrifices of those who came before us. Some parts of that story must stay because they keep us rooted. Some parts must break because they no longer serve what is true.

Traditions are not rules set in stone. They are tools we pass down, and we must learn when to hold them and when to let them go. Maybe in our grandfather’s time it made sense that a man must work while the wife stays home. But today, your mother works, creates, builds alongside me. That old tradition will shift. But some principles must never change. Like guarding the family legacy with integrity. Like carrying the LOH name with a clear conscience and an open heart.

You do not inherit these things by accident. You inherit them by choosing to hold them inside the limits that make them strong. This is not about having more freedom. It is about protecting what matters most. You protect it by owning it. You protect it by living it not once, but every day you wake up as a LOH.

The Reverse That Redefines It All

Freedom is not about breaking every limit. It is about living the right ones well. Limits frame our focus. Focus shapes our practice. Practice bears the fruit.

If your children could watch only how you handle limits, not how you talk about dreams, what would they see?

One day, when you look back, you will not remember the days you had everything. You will remember the days you had just enough, and you made them sacred.

This is the hidden gift of limitation. It teaches you to own what you can, release what you cannot, and cherish what you have. Less time can make you more present. Less money can make you more creative. Less certainty can make you more faithful.

This is how a family, and a leader, grow roots that last.