Values

Serve

"I slept and I dreamed that life is all joy. I woke and I saw that life is all service. I served and I saw that service is joy."

— Rabindranath Tagore, Indian poet

I used to chase success like a finish line.

Set the goal. Hit the milestone. Rack the win. But somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like enough.

Everything shifted when I stopped asking, “What can I get?” and started asking, “What can I give?”

Everything changed when I stopped focusing on personal wins and started focusing on how I could create real value for others. Service isn’t just about generosity; it’s about alignment. The more I focus on serving, the more fulfilling my work becomes.

The best part? Success follows service. When I show up to help, I build trust. When I prioritize value over vanity metrics, the right people stick around.

Here are three ways I apply it:

• Before starting any project, I ask: Who does this serve, and how does it help them? If I don’t have a clear answer, I rethink it.
• I prioritize depth over reach—it’s better to deeply serve a few than barely impact many.
• I operate from a give-first mindset, knowing that long-term success is built on trust, not transactions.

Ignite the spark in others

Some of the biggest shifts in my life didn’t come from reading another book or grinding through more work. They came from a single conversation, a well-timed question, or someone seeing potential in me before I saw it in myself.

I realized that my job is to help others see what’s possible for them. The right insight at the right time can be a turning point. A moment of clarity can change someone’s entire trajectory.

I don’t just want to build things. I want to create sparks.

Here are three ways I apply it:

• When I work with someone, I don’t just give answers—I help them see their own breakthroughs.
• I share my experiences openly and honestly, knowing that the right story at the right time can shift everything.
• I look for moments to encourage, challenge, and push people to think bigger than they currently are.

Believe in miracles

“When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

— Paulo Coelho (The Alchemist)

Before 2000, I operated within what seemed possible — the things that felt realistic, the goals that made logical sense. I played it smart. I played it safe.

However, my most powerful breakthroughs come when I suspended disbelief and opened myself to the impossible — taking leaps before I felt ready, trusting things I couldn’t yet see, betting on an outcome I had no proof would happen.

Every major transformation — personal, professional, or societal — was once considered impossible. But people who create change don’t operate on what’s "realistic" — they operate on what’s possible. But belief isn’t blind optimism. It’s actually the fuel that makes innovation, resilience, and extraordinary impact possible. The moment we stop believing in miracles, we stop creating them.

The biggest limitation isn’t the lack of opportunity — it’s the lack of belief.

Now, I don’t just aim for what seems doable. I make space for what seems impossible.

Here are three ways I apply it:

• I stay open to possibilities beyond my current understanding—not everything needs to make sense before it works.
• I take bold action even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed—trusting that progress comes from movement, not certainty.
• I remind myself that just because I can’t see how yet doesn’t mean it won’t happen—some doors only open once I start walking toward them.

Stay hungry, stay foolish

The moment I think I have it all figured out, I’ve already started falling behind.

Some of the worst decisions I ever made came from thinking I was done learning, that I had mastered something, that I finally had the “right” system. Every time, reality humbled me.

Staying hungry means I never stop exploring, questioning, improving. Staying foolish means I don’t let ego stop me from experimenting, making mistakes, and chasing things that don’t make sense—yet.

If I’m not growing, I’m shrinking. If I’m not taking risks, I’m getting stagnant.

"Stay hungry, stay foolish."

— Steve Jobs, Stanford Commencement Address

Here are three ways I apply it:

• I assume there’s always a better way to do things, even if I can’t see it yet.
• I surround myself with people who challenge my thinking—comfort zones kill ambition.
• I take risks that might make me look foolish, because playing it safe never leads to breakthroughs.

Clarity drives effective action

I used to operate in a constant state of movement without alignment — pushing forward, chasing goals, managing multiple projects. But the more I did, the more fragmented I felt. It wasn’t just about being busy. It was about not knowing if I was busy with the right things.

At some point, I had to face a hard truth: without clarity, effort is wasted.

I used to think clarity was a given. Now, I understand clarity is an emergent property, and I know it’s the foundation of everything. If I’m clear, I move forward with confidence. If I’m not, I spin my wheels, second-guess myself, or overcomplicate what should be simple. So I start looking for it early in new projects, watching it emerge from ambiguity.

Clarity isn’t just about knowing what to do. It’s about knowing what to ignore.

Here are three ways I apply it:

• If something feels overwhelming, I stop and define what actually matters before taking action.
• Before I add anything to my plate, I ask: Does this move me closer to what I truly want?
• I simplify everything—if an idea, task, or plan isn’t clear, I refine it until it is.

Control what you can, adapt to what you can't

I used to waste so much energy fighting things outside of my control.

Bad timing. Unexpected setbacks. Other people’s decisions.

I’d get frustrated, thinking that if I just worked harder, pushed more, I could force things to go my way.

But that’s not how reality works.

As a solopreneur, I had to learn the difference between what’s mine to control and what’s not. My effort? Mine. My systems? Mine. The results? Not always mine.

Once I accepted that, everything shifted. I stopped trying to control outcomes and started focusing on inputs—the things I could actually shape. My work. My consistency. My mindset. That’s where real power is.

Here are three ways I apply it:

• When something isn’t working, I ask: Is this within my control? If not, I stop obsessing over it.
• I automate, systematize, or structure anything that’s repetitive so I don’t have to make the same decisions twice.
• When things go sideways (because they always do), I shift from reacting emotionally to adapting strategically.

Make the darn decision

Right after completing my Master's degree and entering the workforce, I told myself that if I just had more information, I’d be able to move forward. I’d research, analyze, tweak my plans, convinced that once everything lined up perfectly, I’d take action.

But I wasn’t planning. I was stalling.

As a solopreneur, there’s no boss handing down decisions. It’s all on me. If I hesitate, the business hesitates. If I second-guess, momentum dies. Waiting for the perfect answer is just an excuse dressed up as strategy.

I had to learn that most decisions don’t require certainty — just commitment. I don’t need a perfect plan, just the next step. The faster I decide, the faster I learn.

Here are three ways I apply it:

• When I feel stuck, I remind myself: Not deciding is a decision too—and it usually leads nowhere.
• I trust that I can course-correct. Most decisions aren’t permanent. Moving forward beats standing still.
• I prioritize momentum over perfection—action creates clarity, not the other way around.

Systems over willpower

As a kid, I thought success was about discipline — waking up earlier, trying harder, pushing through. I believed that if I could just force myself to be more productive, I’d get everything done.

But willpower is unreliable. It fluctuates. It burns out. And when it runs out, so does momentum.

I kept trying to outwork my own inefficiencies, when what I really needed was a system—a way to make execution automatic instead of something I had to will myself into every day. Once I built structured workflows that supported the way I think and work, everything became easier.

The less I rely on motivation, the more consistent I become.

Here are three ways I apply it:

• If I find myself relying on motivation, I stop and ask: How can I systematize this instead?
• I use repeatable processes, templates, and automation to reduce decision fatigue.
• If something keeps getting delayed, I don’t just try harder—I build a structure that makes it inevitable.

Execution is the ultimate filter

Plans.

I used to think having a plan was enough. I’d map out goals, brainstorm ideas, refine strategies — but somehow, things still weren’t moving. I was stuck in the planning loop, mistaking preparation for progress.

Then I realized: if it isn’t getting done, it isn’t real.

Ideas mean nothing without execution. A strategy that never leaves the page is no better than having no strategy at all. Thinking about something, tweaking it, refining it—it feels productive, but it’s not. Only action counts.

Now, execution is my filter. If something isn’t happening, I don’t just analyze it. I fix whatever is stopping me. And when I can't fix it, I ask for help.

Here are three ways I apply it:

• I focus on high-impact actions, not endless strategizing. If I’m stuck planning, I ask: What’s the smallest action I can take right now?
• If execution isn’t happening, I identify and remove the real bottleneck—whether it’s fear, friction, or a broken system.
• I don’t measure progress by effort—I measure it by what actually gets done.

Simple scales, complex fails

"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication."

— Leonardo da Vinci

For years, I overcomplicated everything. My systems were too intricate, my workflows too detailed, my plans too rigid. I thought complexity meant sophistication — but all it did was slow me down.

The truth is, complexity collapses under pressure. When things got busy, my overbuilt systems became a burden. I’d spend more time managing them than actually executing. If something wasn’t simple, I wasn’t going to sustain it.

Now, I design for effortless execution. If it’s not simple, it won’t last.

Here are three ways I apply it:

• If something feels complicated, I strip it down until it’s so simple I can’t mess it up.
• I design systems that work even on my worst days—because if they only work when I have unlimited time and energy, they’re useless.
• Before optimizing anything, I ask: Is there anything I can remove first? If not, I move forward.

Thank you for stopping by and reading. Reach out anytime. I read every email.