When You Realise Today Is Not a Rehearsal
If I put a score to my day, it would look like this.
- Productivity: 8 out of 10.
- Self expectation: 6 out of 10.
- Marriage: 8 out of 10.
On paper, it sounds decent. But numbers do not tell the full story. They only hint at the gap between what I am capable of and how I actually live. My strength is intrinsic motivation. I move from within. I do not need someone to push me. I drive myself. That is my superpower.
It is also my weakness.
The world is not built only on intrinsic motivation. Most people move because of external triggers. Deadlines. Rewards. Consequences. Recognition. And if I forget that, I will judge others unfairly and lead them poorly. The same with my introspective nature. I feel deeply. I think about life from the inside. But if I only trust my feelings, I can still be wrong. I need research, data, external anchors, not to replace my conviction but to sharpen it.
So when I say today was an 8 out of 10 in productivity, 6 out of 10 in self expectation, 8 out of 10 in marriage, what I am really saying is this. I lived, but I could have been more awake. I was present, but I could have been clearer. I moved forward, but there was a deeper way to live the same hours.
The day started like many others: 15 minutes devotion with my children. From the outside, 15 minutes looks small. From the inside, it shapes everything. Neuroscience tells us the first 7 years of a child’s life form their identity like cement being poured into a mould. Once it sets, it is very hard to reshape. So I treat those fifteen minutes not as a ritual, but as construction time.
I remind them of two identities:
- You are my children.
- You are children of God.
One anchors them in my love, the other anchors them beyond my lifespan. Then I send them to school. Short talk. Short prayer. Grab every moment. This is how I buy back time from a busy schedule. Not with big events, but with small, repeated seeds.
All this while, I am carrying my 5 month old daughter. She does not understand my words, but she recognises my presence. She does not yet have the language for trust, but her body is already learning it. One day, when she chooses a life partner, I pray she chooses someone who will lay down his life for her, because that is the model she grew up watching. A father who loved, not by overprotecting, but by preparing.
Many fathers say something like this, out of love.
“If your marriage ever fails, come back to Daddy, I will take care of you.”
It sounds noble on the surface. But hidden inside is a subtle assumption that the father will always be there. That he can always rescue. That his presence is guaranteed.
I do not carry that assumption.
I live as a father who might not have another 30 years. I wish I did. But I cannot assume I will reach the average lifespan. So instead of promising my children I will always be there, I live every day getting them ready for the possibility that I will not.
This is the starting point of the Life Assumptions:
- I know I will die.
- I do not know when.
That changes everything about how I live today.
A Normal Day, a Sudden Death, and a 7 Year Old’s Question
After dropping the children at school, I went back to work. Meetings. Planning. Leadership conversations. I sent my team to Malacca for a company team building project. This period is one of our busiest seasons. We are helping other organisations build their culture and teamwork.
That might sound like a side business, but to me it is an extension of our philosophy. You cannot see the full picture of your own environment if you never step out of it. Transformation may grow from the inside, but innovation often enters from the outside. Sometimes, to raise your internal standard, you must leave your hometown, see more, return with a bigger reference point.
So I watched my team preparing. Tired faces. Heavy eyes. But there was a quiet fire. They are building more than income. They are building a name. A track record. A set of abilities that can generate value again and again. Many people wish for a million dollars in their bank account. I would rather my team use their youth to build the ability to generate millions than to simply possess money they do not know how to sustain.
Later in the day, I sat for another meeting, this time focused on the continuity and legacy of Stellar for the next ten to one hundred years. We are not waiting for crisis to ask big questions. We start with the end in mind so that today’s decisions point in a clear direction.
Then my phone delivered news that cut through the day.
Paul Wong had been killed in a bike accident in Thailand.
We were not close friends. I cannot claim that. But he was a man I respected. Someone whose life and work inspired me. To describe his death as disturbing feels too light. It shook me. Not emotionally loud, but quietly deep.
When someone you respect dies suddenly, you re-enter the old questions with a new sharpness.
What does it really mean to be alive?
As a father, what will I leave behind when I am gone?
Will my children be ready to live without me?
Will the things I have built collapse once I am no longer here?
These are not poetic questions. They are operational ones. They affect how you design your day, your company, your family culture.
That night, I had a simple moment with my second son, Eann, seven years old. I was showering him, mind half on the day, when he suddenly asked, with full seriousness.
“Dad, who is going to cook for me when you die?”
Developmental psychology says children often ask their deepest questions during routine, low pressure moments. At dinner. In the car. While bathing. When systems feel safe, the heart feels free to surface its fears. This was one of those moments.
I told him he could look for Teacher Chang, our head chef at the central kitchen.
He thought for a moment.
“What if Teacher Chang dies?”
Then you can look for Uncle Joshua, I said. He is younger than Daddy.
Another pause. Processing.
“What if Uncle Joshua dies?”
By then, I said, you will have grown up like Uncle Joshua. You will know how to cook.
He still looked unsatisfied. The fear was not fully resolved.
“What if I still do not know how to cook?”
Then you can ask your big brother, Aiden. I will teach Aiden to cook, and he will cook for you.
Something shifted in his face. Finally, he was relieved.
So when Daddy dies, big brother will cook for me.
That was enough for his seven year old logic. For him, older people die first. Younger people live longer. Therefore, Daddy is at risk, but big brother is still safe. His assumption is normal for his age. In a strange way, it is healthy. If a child truly believed everyone could die at any moment, including themselves, their mind would be overloaded.
That conversation held a quiet revelation. He did not need the promise of my immortality. He needed a map of continuity. As long as someone would be there in the gap between his current ability and his future capability, he could rest.
I walked away from that moment more convinced than ever.
My responsibility is not to be here forever.
My responsibility is to prepare them to live as if I might not.
The Life Assumption Framework, the Ocean, and the Things That Do Not Matter
From this day, the Life Assumption Framework became clear.
There are three ways to move through life.
First, the Immortality Assumption.
This is not rational, but it is common. People act as if time is abundant. They delay difficult conversations. They postpone healing. They assume they will “have time” to fix things later. Success will come later. Apologies will be made later. Dreams can start later. But psychological studies consistently show that this mindset breeds regret. When you treat time as endless, you use it carelessly.
Second, the Countdown Assumption.
This is where you feel as if you know when everything will end. Whether because of fear, diagnosis, or imagination, life turns into a countdown. Every day becomes a subtraction. Anxiety rises. People stop living fully because they are busy preparing to end. When you know exactly when you will die, you can easily become paralysed, because every decision feels like a final decision.
Third, the Mortality Awareness.
This is where healthy clarity lives. You know you will die. You do not know when. You accept both. That acceptance changes the way you treat today. You stop drifting, because there is no guarantee of a convenient future. You also stop panicking, because you are not counting down to a fixed date.
This is the Life Assumption.
The greatest blessing in life is that you do not know when you will die.
The greatest responsibility is to live knowing that you will.
From this flows my parenting model. I often think of it as the ocean.
I can give my children a boat.
That is wealth, comfort, opportunity, networks, education.
But I must also teach them to swim.
That is skill, resilience, discipline, and the mindset to survive hardship.
Then I must teach them how to build a boat when the ocean becomes bigger.
That is the ability to regenerate wealth and solutions.
And then I must teach them to navigate storms.
That is wisdom, judgment, character.
If they only receive a boat, they will capsize when the ocean grows larger than their preparation. If they only learn to swim but never learn to build or steer, they will survive, but never carry others. True resilience is not just surviving the waves. It is carrying people across them.
The same pattern applies to leadership.
I can build a school that stands while I am alive.
But if I have not built the people who can rebuild, reimagine, and regrow it when I am gone, then what have I really built?
Mortality awareness gives depth to every design decision. It forces me to think in terms of generations, not just personal achievement.
At the same time, the Life Assumption exposes another problem. Many people are suffering not because life is objectively cruel, but because their expectations are unrealistic. They want life to be fair in the way they define fairness. They want relationships without misunderstanding, progress without resistance, leadership without cost.
I have seen people torture themselves with 纠结, getting trapped in loops over details that do not matter. In doing so, they 迷失更多生命的美好. They lose more of the beauty of life.
Take the example of a friend who is about to get married and move to another city. Their time in Johor Bahru is limited, yet they hold on to grudges and face issues. They sacrifice community and connection to protect an image. One day, they will look back and realise how much they gave up just to stay offended.
Here is where another clarity is needed. Not everything in life demands perfection.
When we talk about the Purpose Built Campus, we must insist on precision. Structural load. M and E. Safety. Calculations. Integrity. One mistake can cost lives. In this realm, perfection is not an obsession. It is responsibility.
But when it comes to people who upset us, those who do not align with us, those who criticise us? It does not matter as much as we think. Life is too short to pour emotional energy into battles that have no eternal value.
Wisdom is knowing what belongs inside your circle of control and what must remain outside it. What you must execute well versus what you must release to God. To hold everything as if it depends entirely on you is another way of assuming you are central and immortal.
The Life Assumption breaks that illusion. It reminds you that you are a steward, not the centre of the universe.
How to Live Today When You Truly Accept You Might Not Have Tomorrow
So how do we live when this truth is not just an idea, but a conviction?
First, we live with identity clarity.
You are someone’s child.
You are also a child of God.
For my children, that means they are deeply loved in two dimensions. One day, I will not be here. My love will remain in memories, habits, stories, and seeds. But God’s presence is not limited by my lifespan.
Second, we invest in regenerative capability.
Do not only give comfort.
Give competence.
Whether in parenting or leadership, the goal is the same. Do not create people who only function when you are around. Create people who can rebuild the boat when it breaks. Who can cook when the one who used to cook is gone. Who can lead when the original leader is no longer in the room.
Third, we adjust our expectations to reality.
Stop demanding that life be emotionally perfect.
Stop expecting yourself to function without limits.
Stop expecting relationships to have no tension.
There will be inconvenient people. Misunderstood seasons. Unfair outcomes. The question is not whether they exist. The question is whether you will let them hijack your short life.
Fourth, we choose our battles with mortality in mind.
If you knew you might not have thirty more years, would you still spend so much energy on this argument, this pride, this resentment?
If the answer is no, then it does not deserve that level of attention.
Leadership is not about controlling everything. It is about seeing clearly enough to decide where your finite energy belongs.
Fifth, we live today as if it matters, not as if it is a rehearsal.
There is a big difference between living cautiously because you fear death, and living intentionally because you respect it. When you respect death, you honour life. You make time count. You forgive faster. You say what needs to be said sooner. You love while you still can.
This is how I want to live as a father, as a husband, as a leader, and as a child of God. Not in fear of the end, but in faithfulness to the time I have.
The Reverse That Redefines It All
The opposite of living is not dying.
The opposite of living is assuming you have time.
Death is certain.
The timing is hidden.
That hiddenness is not a curse.
It is a design.
If you knew the exact date of your death, you would live counting down.
If you forgot that you will die, you would live drifting away.
The greatest gift is that you do not know when it will end.
The greatest wisdom is to live every day as if it could.
So the question is not how long you will live.
The question is what you will do with the only day that is truly yours.
Today.
Live as if life is fragile, because it is.
Live as if love is urgent, because it is.
Live as if your children and your team need preparation more than protection, because they do.
You will die.
You do not know when.
Let that truth free you from what does not matter, so you can finally give yourself to what does.
