The Next Level Always Costs Comfort

I wanted to talk about vision today.
But life handed me something more honest—discomfort.

Last night, we sent Hedki off to Singapore.
But rest didn’t follow.

My youngest son had eaten too much junk food. His little body couldn’t handle it.
He tossed and turned through the night, crying.
My wife and I barely slept.

And yet—there it was.
A window.

Not to scold.
But to teach.

A conversation on health. On self-awareness. On how one small decision affects your body.

He loves his snacks. I know this won’t be a one-time chat.
But that’s parenting.
We don’t control outcomes.
We shape character—one restless night at a time.

Morning came fast.

We headed to campus for a design meeting with Dr. Tan, our architect.

Every time I see my wife walk into these sessions, I’m reminded of something:
She has a superpower.

The moment she’s activated, her eyes scan like an architect and a mother combined.
She notices what others don’t. Flow. Function. Movement. Emotional logic.

It’s why we never finalize plans without her input.

And Dr. Tan?
He brings peace with him.
Humble. Funny. Sharp. Values-driven.

He’s one of the top architects in Malaysia—not because of prestige, but because of how he builds. From the heart.

Then he said something that hit home:

“The world is changing fast. But some things must remain timeless.”

Timeless design. Timeless values. Timeless principles.

That’s when he told us something that lifted the whole room—Yin is back.

Yin, our favorite senior architect.
Precise. Humble. Patient. Quietly excellent.

I texted her right there in the meeting:

“Best news of the week.”

She replied just as excited to return to the project.

On 29 May 2024 we asked her and Dr Tan to join us on a visit to another international school 29 May 2024.
Not to admire.
But to observe what doesn’t work.

We can’t always see the cracks.
But they can.

Because design isn’t about what looks cool.
It’s about what works for people.

That’s when the day’s theme locked in:

The next level of your life will always cost your current comfort.

It’s not a slogan.
It’s a universal law.

Growth requires discomfort.
Progress demands shedding.
We don’t evolve by clinging to what we know.

And here’s what most people miss:
The cost isn’t always dramatic.
Sometimes, it’s simply showing up.

Tired.
Drained.
Uninspired.
And still choosing to do the work.

Later that day, we rushed to Singapore. A brief meeting with the Director of Singapore’s Examinations and Assessment Board.

We came humbly.

“Here’s our architecture plan. Before we go further, any thoughts?”

In just a few minutes, he gave us insights that changed everything.

He had to leave, but offered to continue Saturday.
So we’re going back.

Because that’s what strategic servant leadership looks like:

Ask.
Listen.
Reflect.
Then decide—with clarity.

And before we do anything, we always return to one question:

What kind of school are we building?

Academic? Commercial? Prestigious?

No.
We’re building a community school.

A place where values are lived, not laminated.
Where students aren’t just prepared for exams—but prepared for life.
Where we don’t just teach lessons—we form legacies.

On the way home, I turned to Samuel and said:

“You realise we’re always five steps ahead?”

We laughed.

But it’s true.

When we built our first preschool, we were already planning an international school.
When the international school launched, we were sketching our purpose-built campus.
Now, even before we’ve laid a single brick—we’re dreaming of community living.

Why?

Because education is only one layer of impact.
True change happens when homes, schools, and values align.

That’s why growth is our strategy.
And urgency is our fuel.

Some schools have talked about online learning for years—budgeting, R&D, more R&D.

Then came COVID.

It took us three days to pivot fully online.
Not because we were brilliant.
But because we had no choice.

Urgency removes the luxury of perfection.
It kills indecision.
It creates momentum.

It reminds me of uni days:
Twelve weeks for assignments.
But 80% of the work?
Done the night before.

Because a deadline turns drift into direction.

That’s why I keep saying:

Don’t wait for perfect conditions. They never come.

What we need isn’t perfection.
It’s purpose—on fire.

Now, let me share something that guides how we grow:

One kick. 10,000 times.

But here’s the real punchline:

If by your 10,000th kick the power isn’t greater than your first,
what’s the point?

Practice isn’t enough.
Refinement is everything.

Because perfecting the wrong kick just makes you dangerous in the wrong direction.

Even if you realise halfway—kick #5,000—that your form is wrong?

So what.

Fix it.
Start again.
Get it right.

Mastery isn’t about repetition.
It’s about relentless improvement.

And I’ll always ask my team this:

Do you have your 3M?

• A Mentor who stretches you.
• A Mentee who grounds you.
• A Mate who walks with you.

Without these three, you’re flying solo.

And leadership?
Isn’t a solo sport.

Even for this campus project—we’re surrounded by mentors, advisors, consultants.
Not because we’re unsure.
But because we’re intentional.

So what does this all mean?

Tonight, after meetings…
Travel…
Zooms…
A sick kid…
Piano homework…
Multiplication drills…

I still wrote.

Not because I felt like it.
But because I’m building something bigger than now.

If I can’t even show up for a blog post…
How will I ever write a book?

And if I don’t write a book…
How will I ever build something that outlives me?

So here’s your step:

Ask yourself:

• What are you avoiding because you’re “not ready”?
• What small thing are you postponing until it’s easy?
• What’s the one uncomfortable step you can take today?

Call someone.
Start that project.
Practice the right kick.
Send that draft.
Ask for feedback.
Apologize.
Pitch.

Because the next level always costs comfort.

But what you gain?

Is clarity.
Momentum.
Legacy.

We’re not here for ease.
We’re here for impact.

Because one day, our children—and their children—will walk through the campuses we build.
The homes we shape.
The cultures we leave behind.

And I want them to know:

This didn’t come from convenience.
It came from courage. Discipline. Resilience.

Tonight, I wrote.
Not because it was easy.
But because I showed up.

Today wasn’t perfect.
But it was full.

Good night. A day well lived.