Rustam Akhmetov: The Journey to Self — From Overachievement to True Leadership
Rustam Akhmetov (CELA'13) is a man with over 20 years of experience in Kazakhstan’s oil and gas industry, education, and corporate governance. He has held significant roles, including leading the legal department at USKO International and serving as Legal Advisor to the President of KIMEP University. He also managed compliance and corporate governance at CNPC International Kazakhstan. Currently, Rustam is a Professor of Practice at Almaty Management University, an SDG/ESG expert, and the Executive Director of TransCaspian Cargo, a logistics platform promoting sustainable development.
His career, marked by both professional achievements and personal trials, including the loss of his teenage son, has led him to embrace a leadership philosophy rooted in empathy, vulnerability, and purpose. In this conversation, he shares how these experiences reshaped his faith, deepened his understanding of human connection, and inspired his mission to help others find clarity and meaning in their own lives. Rustam’s story is not just about rebuilding - it’s about rediscovering what it means to lead and live authentically.
His career, marked by both professional achievements and personal trials, including the loss of his teenage son, has led him to embrace a leadership philosophy rooted in empathy, vulnerability, and purpose. In this conversation, he shares how these experiences reshaped his faith, deepened his understanding of human connection, and inspired his mission to help others find clarity and meaning in their own lives. Rustam’s story is not just about rebuilding - it’s about rediscovering what it means to lead and live authentically.
For so many years, I thought leadership meant being invincible, never showing weakness. But it's the opposite.
Rustam, when you think about the challenges leaders face in Kazakhstan today, what stands out to you the most, and how have those challenges shaped your perspective on leadership?
If I had to pick one overarching challenge that leaders in Kazakhstan face today, it would be the deeply ingrained culture of egocentrism - a mindset that elevates the leader above all others and reduces the contributions and individuality of team members to insignificance. This way of thinking creates a system that is expensive to maintain in terms of financial and human resources and damaging on a deeper emotional and psychological level for everyone involved.
When I reflect on my own journey, there was a time when I, too, was caught up in this trap of ego-driven leadership. Early in my career, as the head of legal services at USKO International, I was responsible for working with major international clients like Procter & Gamble, Kimberly-Clark, and L’Oréal. Externally, I was seen as a highly successful leader with material wealth, professional status, and strong networks to back it up. However, this self-focused approach eventually led to cracks in both my career and personal life. Stepping away from that was an incredibly painful but transformative process. Imagine removing layers of armor that you’ve worn for years—armor that you thought defined you. This armor is made up of your reputation, the image you’ve carefully constructed, and the power you believe you hold. Stripping it away felt like I was losing a part of myself, but as the noise of my ego subsided, I discovered a calm and a freedom I had never experienced before. It allowed me to trust not only others but, perhaps more importantly, myself.
This shift opened the door to a completely different kind of leadership—one I like to think of as empathetic or collaborative leadership. It’s about creating a culture of openness where people feel genuinely heard and valued, where decisions are made collectively, and where everyone is seen as an integral part of the team. In this type of environment, people are no longer just employees following orders; they become part of a living, breathing organism moving toward a shared goal. I’ll admit this kind of transformation is rare, but when it happens, it is profound. And that is the kind of leadership we need more of today.
Generational diversity in the workplace has become a pressing issue in modern organizations. How do you personally approach bridging the generational gap and fostering understanding between such different age groups?
The generational gap in organizations today is not just a difference in years; it’s a difference in worldviews, priorities, and life experiences. At CNPC, for example, we worked with teams ranging from individuals whose formative years were shaped by ideologies and conditions of leaders like Brezhnev, and on the other, you have young professionals born into a world that has always been connected, digital, and fast-paced. This gap, which spans not just decades but entire paradigms, is daunting, but it’s also an opportunity to create something truly dynamic and inclusive.
What I’ve found is that emotions are the one constant that transcend these generational divides. No matter how different their experiences, people are bound by their ability to feel, to connect on an emotional level. I often start conversations with a metaphor that’s simple but effective: I ask people how they feel in the moment, comparing their emotions to seasons. “Do you feel like it’s summer—full of energy and ideas? Or perhaps autumn—where you’re reflective, gathering your thoughts and resources?”
These questions may seem basic, but they encourage self-awareness and help bridge the generational divide because emotions are universal. Everyone, no matter their age, can relate to these internal cycles.
I’ve seen this work in practice. Before beginning new projects, I ask my team to share where they are emotionally. This exercise allows people to connect with themselves and with each other on a level that transcends age or experience. When you understand someone’s emotional state, you approach them with more empathy, and as a result, collaboration improves. People let go of superficial goals, stop chasing recognition for its own sake, and begin working with sincerity and focus. In such an environment, trust and respect naturally replace tension and misunderstandings.
If I had to pick one overarching challenge that leaders in Kazakhstan face today, it would be the deeply ingrained culture of egocentrism - a mindset that elevates the leader above all others and reduces the contributions and individuality of team members to insignificance. This way of thinking creates a system that is expensive to maintain in terms of financial and human resources and damaging on a deeper emotional and psychological level for everyone involved.
When I reflect on my own journey, there was a time when I, too, was caught up in this trap of ego-driven leadership. Early in my career, as the head of legal services at USKO International, I was responsible for working with major international clients like Procter & Gamble, Kimberly-Clark, and L’Oréal. Externally, I was seen as a highly successful leader with material wealth, professional status, and strong networks to back it up. However, this self-focused approach eventually led to cracks in both my career and personal life. Stepping away from that was an incredibly painful but transformative process. Imagine removing layers of armor that you’ve worn for years—armor that you thought defined you. This armor is made up of your reputation, the image you’ve carefully constructed, and the power you believe you hold. Stripping it away felt like I was losing a part of myself, but as the noise of my ego subsided, I discovered a calm and a freedom I had never experienced before. It allowed me to trust not only others but, perhaps more importantly, myself.
This shift opened the door to a completely different kind of leadership—one I like to think of as empathetic or collaborative leadership. It’s about creating a culture of openness where people feel genuinely heard and valued, where decisions are made collectively, and where everyone is seen as an integral part of the team. In this type of environment, people are no longer just employees following orders; they become part of a living, breathing organism moving toward a shared goal. I’ll admit this kind of transformation is rare, but when it happens, it is profound. And that is the kind of leadership we need more of today.
Generational diversity in the workplace has become a pressing issue in modern organizations. How do you personally approach bridging the generational gap and fostering understanding between such different age groups?
The generational gap in organizations today is not just a difference in years; it’s a difference in worldviews, priorities, and life experiences. At CNPC, for example, we worked with teams ranging from individuals whose formative years were shaped by ideologies and conditions of leaders like Brezhnev, and on the other, you have young professionals born into a world that has always been connected, digital, and fast-paced. This gap, which spans not just decades but entire paradigms, is daunting, but it’s also an opportunity to create something truly dynamic and inclusive.
What I’ve found is that emotions are the one constant that transcend these generational divides. No matter how different their experiences, people are bound by their ability to feel, to connect on an emotional level. I often start conversations with a metaphor that’s simple but effective: I ask people how they feel in the moment, comparing their emotions to seasons. “Do you feel like it’s summer—full of energy and ideas? Or perhaps autumn—where you’re reflective, gathering your thoughts and resources?”
These questions may seem basic, but they encourage self-awareness and help bridge the generational divide because emotions are universal. Everyone, no matter their age, can relate to these internal cycles.
I’ve seen this work in practice. Before beginning new projects, I ask my team to share where they are emotionally. This exercise allows people to connect with themselves and with each other on a level that transcends age or experience. When you understand someone’s emotional state, you approach them with more empathy, and as a result, collaboration improves. People let go of superficial goals, stop chasing recognition for its own sake, and begin working with sincerity and focus. In such an environment, trust and respect naturally replace tension and misunderstandings.
"There was a time when I, too, was caught up in this trap of ego-driven leadership. Stepping away from that was an incredibly painful but transformative process. Imagine removing layers of armor that you’ve worn for years—armor that you thought defined you. This armor is made up of your reputation, the image you’ve carefully constructed, and the power you believe you hold. Stripping it away felt like I was losing a part of myself, but as the noise of my ego subsided, I discovered a calm and a freedom I had never experienced before."
Rustam Akhmetov
CELA'13, Kazakhstan
Your time at KIMEP University seems to have been pivotal in your journey. How did your experiences there influence your approach to leadership and communication?
KIMEP is not just an academic institution; it’s a transformative environment. My role as Legal Advisor to the President during my tenure taught me more than just the technical aspects of governance. My time at KIMEP was a turning point, not just academically but in how I learned to view the world and interact with people. It wasn’t just about studying theories or memorizing case studies—it was about cultivating a way of thinking that emphasized connection, intentionality, and responsibility. A saying stuck with me during my time there: “If you want to receive smart answers, you need to create smart questions.” That simple idea transformed the way I approach communication. It taught me that if you want meaningful dialogue, the effort has to start with you.
At KIMEP, I learned how to ask better questions and to listen in a way that went beyond simply waiting for my turn to speak. This wasn’t just a soft skill—it became a foundation for navigating complex cross-cultural and professional dynamics. Whether working with international stakeholders or negotiating with partners, understanding and adapting to different perspectives has been invaluable. And that lesson—of listening with intention and responding with care—has shaped my leadership approach ever since.
Over the last decade and a half, there have been many changes in corporate culture. What transformations are the most significant to you, and how have they shaped your philosophy?
One of the most significant transformations I’ve witnessed is the slow but steady shift from an obsession with relentless achievement to a focus on collaboration, creativity, and purpose. For so long, the corporate world revolved around metrics, achievements, and an almost ruthless drive for results. But as time has passed, we’ve started to see the cracks in that system. People are physically, emotionally, and mentally tired, and many are beginning to reevaluate what success means.
What I find most remarkable is how this shift isn’t just happening at an organizational level; it’s deeply personal for so many people. I’ve watched colleagues in their 40s and 50s step back from high-powered roles to rediscover their passions or focus on their families. I’ve seen younger generations enter the workforce with a completely different set of values, prioritizing well-being, ethics, and inclusivity over status or salary. These changes are reshaping what leadership looks like and what it means to be successful.
As a leader, adapting to this shift has meant redefining my own role. I no longer see myself as someone who directs or controls but as someone who facilitates, inspires, and creates space for others to thrive. It’s a humbling but incredibly rewarding way to lead, and I believe it’s the future of leadership.
You’ve shared a beautiful vision of moving from achievement to creation. How have you seen that shift unfold in your work and the lives of those around you? Can you tell us a story where this really came alive?
For example, in the oil and gas industry, we began approaching negotiations with government agencies and partners from a position of mindfulness and confidence. We talk about our feelings, work through them before important meetings. This leads to successful results. We don't lie to ourselves or others; our partners see this. People start living the process, not just the result, which benefits everyone.
What would you say to your younger self, just starting out in his career?
If I could sit down with my younger self, I would tell him to slow down—not in terms of ambition but in terms of understanding the world around him. I would say, “Take the time to really see people, to listen to their stories, and to learn from them.” In my early career, I was so focused on standing out and proving myself that I often overlooked the wisdom and experiences of those around me.
I would also remind him that leadership isn’t about being the loudest voice in the room or the one with the most accolades. True leadership is about lifting others up, about creating an environment where people feel empowered to bring their best selves to the table. And I would tell him not to fear mistakes. Every failure is a lesson, and every lesson is an opportunity to grow. Life isn’t a sprint; it’s a journey, and the most important thing is to stay open to learning along the way.
KIMEP is not just an academic institution; it’s a transformative environment. My role as Legal Advisor to the President during my tenure taught me more than just the technical aspects of governance. My time at KIMEP was a turning point, not just academically but in how I learned to view the world and interact with people. It wasn’t just about studying theories or memorizing case studies—it was about cultivating a way of thinking that emphasized connection, intentionality, and responsibility. A saying stuck with me during my time there: “If you want to receive smart answers, you need to create smart questions.” That simple idea transformed the way I approach communication. It taught me that if you want meaningful dialogue, the effort has to start with you.
At KIMEP, I learned how to ask better questions and to listen in a way that went beyond simply waiting for my turn to speak. This wasn’t just a soft skill—it became a foundation for navigating complex cross-cultural and professional dynamics. Whether working with international stakeholders or negotiating with partners, understanding and adapting to different perspectives has been invaluable. And that lesson—of listening with intention and responding with care—has shaped my leadership approach ever since.
Over the last decade and a half, there have been many changes in corporate culture. What transformations are the most significant to you, and how have they shaped your philosophy?
One of the most significant transformations I’ve witnessed is the slow but steady shift from an obsession with relentless achievement to a focus on collaboration, creativity, and purpose. For so long, the corporate world revolved around metrics, achievements, and an almost ruthless drive for results. But as time has passed, we’ve started to see the cracks in that system. People are physically, emotionally, and mentally tired, and many are beginning to reevaluate what success means.
What I find most remarkable is how this shift isn’t just happening at an organizational level; it’s deeply personal for so many people. I’ve watched colleagues in their 40s and 50s step back from high-powered roles to rediscover their passions or focus on their families. I’ve seen younger generations enter the workforce with a completely different set of values, prioritizing well-being, ethics, and inclusivity over status or salary. These changes are reshaping what leadership looks like and what it means to be successful.
As a leader, adapting to this shift has meant redefining my own role. I no longer see myself as someone who directs or controls but as someone who facilitates, inspires, and creates space for others to thrive. It’s a humbling but incredibly rewarding way to lead, and I believe it’s the future of leadership.
You’ve shared a beautiful vision of moving from achievement to creation. How have you seen that shift unfold in your work and the lives of those around you? Can you tell us a story where this really came alive?
For example, in the oil and gas industry, we began approaching negotiations with government agencies and partners from a position of mindfulness and confidence. We talk about our feelings, work through them before important meetings. This leads to successful results. We don't lie to ourselves or others; our partners see this. People start living the process, not just the result, which benefits everyone.
What would you say to your younger self, just starting out in his career?
If I could sit down with my younger self, I would tell him to slow down—not in terms of ambition but in terms of understanding the world around him. I would say, “Take the time to really see people, to listen to their stories, and to learn from them.” In my early career, I was so focused on standing out and proving myself that I often overlooked the wisdom and experiences of those around me.
I would also remind him that leadership isn’t about being the loudest voice in the room or the one with the most accolades. True leadership is about lifting others up, about creating an environment where people feel empowered to bring their best selves to the table. And I would tell him not to fear mistakes. Every failure is a lesson, and every lesson is an opportunity to grow. Life isn’t a sprint; it’s a journey, and the most important thing is to stay open to learning along the way.
Rustam, you’ve spoken about significant personal challenges in your life. Can you tell us about the period when your family moved to Astana and how it affected you?
The move to Astana was one of the most challenging chapters in my life. My first marriage was going through a turbulent phase, and as my wife and son moved to Astana for a fresh start, I stayed behind to continue my career. This physical separation highlighted the emotional distance that had grown between us. It wasn’t easy—it felt like my personal life was unraveling while my professional life thrived.
Despite the separation, I committed myself to maintaining a strong presence in my son’s life. I flew to Astana frequently, attended his school events, and ensured he felt supported. These efforts were driven by an understanding I gained while studying at the International Federation of Family Development: parenthood is a lifelong responsibility, regardless of marital status. This understanding later became a foundation for how I approached fatherhood, even after my son’s passing.
At the time, I was at the height of my career. On the surface, I had everything: a prestigious position, financial stability, drivers, and a lifestyle that many would envy. But inside, I was falling apart.
When my family left, I was forced to confront the emptiness of a life built solely around external success. I remember driving to work every day, tears streaming down my face, listening to the surahs from the Quran, searching for solace. The physical separation from my family mirrored an emotional and spiritual crisis I hadn’t fully acknowledged until that moment. I felt unmoored like everything I thought defined me was slipping away.
For months, I lived in this state of turmoil. I poured myself into work, hoping it would distract me, but the weight of my loneliness and self-doubt was inescapable. During this time, I realized I needed to rebuild—not just my relationships but myself. I began exploring spirituality more deeply, revisiting my faith, and turning to meditation and reflection to find answers. These practices became my lifeline, helping me rediscover who I was beyond the roles and titles I had clung to for so long.
Reconnecting with my family was a slow process. I realized I had been so focused on providing material comforts that I had neglected the emotional bonds that truly mattered. I made a conscious effort to be present financially and emotionally. It wasn’t easy, and it took years to rebuild the trust and connection we had lost fully. But that period taught me the importance of balance, humility, and the courage to face one's own shortcomings.
That must have been an incredibly challenging time. How did this crisis influence the way you approached your career and leadership?
It changed everything. When you go through something that shakes you to your core, it forces you to reevaluate your priorities. For me, it was a wake-up call that leadership isn’t about power or control—it’s about service. I realized that the same principles I was applying to rebuild my family relationships—listening, empathy, trust—were just as crucial in the workplace.
I started focusing more on the people I worked with, not just employees but individuals with their struggles, dreams, and potential. I began to see leadership as a partnership, where my role was to support and inspire rather than dictate. This shift wasn’t immediate, and I had to unlearn many habits that came from years of ego-driven ambition. But over time, I found that this new approach created better results and brought a sense of fulfillment I had never experienced before.
This period also taught me the importance of resilience. When my family moved, I felt like I had hit rock bottom. But in that place of vulnerability, I found the strength to rebuild—not just my relationships but my sense of self. That’s a lesson I carry with me today: no matter how broken you feel, there’s always a way forward if you’re willing to face your truth and do the work.
Losing your son later in life must have been another profound challenge. How did that experience reshape your worldview?
Losing my son was the most devastating moment of my life. He was 14 years old, full of energy and potential, and then, in a single instant, he was gone. He had been closing a window on a windy day, and a tragic accident occurred. It’s something no parent ever imagines, and the grief was overwhelming.
At first, I didn’t know how to move forward. The pain was so immense that it felt like the world had stopped. But as the days and weeks passed, I realized that I had a choice: I could let this tragedy consume me, or I could find a way to honor my son by living with purpose. I chose the latter, though it was far from easy.
What helped me most was my faith and the support of the people around me. I allowed myself to grieve fully—to cry, to mourn, to feel the depth of my loss. But I also leaned into the practices that had helped me during earlier crises: prayer, meditation, and reflection. These gave me the strength to keep going, even on the hardest days.
This loss reshaped how I view everything—life, leadership, relationships. I’ve become more patient, more empathetic, and more aware of the preciousness of every moment. It’s also deepened my commitment to helping others navigate their own struggles. If sharing my story can help someone else find strength in their darkest hour, then I believe my son’s memory lives on through that.
The move to Astana was one of the most challenging chapters in my life. My first marriage was going through a turbulent phase, and as my wife and son moved to Astana for a fresh start, I stayed behind to continue my career. This physical separation highlighted the emotional distance that had grown between us. It wasn’t easy—it felt like my personal life was unraveling while my professional life thrived.
Despite the separation, I committed myself to maintaining a strong presence in my son’s life. I flew to Astana frequently, attended his school events, and ensured he felt supported. These efforts were driven by an understanding I gained while studying at the International Federation of Family Development: parenthood is a lifelong responsibility, regardless of marital status. This understanding later became a foundation for how I approached fatherhood, even after my son’s passing.
At the time, I was at the height of my career. On the surface, I had everything: a prestigious position, financial stability, drivers, and a lifestyle that many would envy. But inside, I was falling apart.
When my family left, I was forced to confront the emptiness of a life built solely around external success. I remember driving to work every day, tears streaming down my face, listening to the surahs from the Quran, searching for solace. The physical separation from my family mirrored an emotional and spiritual crisis I hadn’t fully acknowledged until that moment. I felt unmoored like everything I thought defined me was slipping away.
For months, I lived in this state of turmoil. I poured myself into work, hoping it would distract me, but the weight of my loneliness and self-doubt was inescapable. During this time, I realized I needed to rebuild—not just my relationships but myself. I began exploring spirituality more deeply, revisiting my faith, and turning to meditation and reflection to find answers. These practices became my lifeline, helping me rediscover who I was beyond the roles and titles I had clung to for so long.
Reconnecting with my family was a slow process. I realized I had been so focused on providing material comforts that I had neglected the emotional bonds that truly mattered. I made a conscious effort to be present financially and emotionally. It wasn’t easy, and it took years to rebuild the trust and connection we had lost fully. But that period taught me the importance of balance, humility, and the courage to face one's own shortcomings.
That must have been an incredibly challenging time. How did this crisis influence the way you approached your career and leadership?
It changed everything. When you go through something that shakes you to your core, it forces you to reevaluate your priorities. For me, it was a wake-up call that leadership isn’t about power or control—it’s about service. I realized that the same principles I was applying to rebuild my family relationships—listening, empathy, trust—were just as crucial in the workplace.
I started focusing more on the people I worked with, not just employees but individuals with their struggles, dreams, and potential. I began to see leadership as a partnership, where my role was to support and inspire rather than dictate. This shift wasn’t immediate, and I had to unlearn many habits that came from years of ego-driven ambition. But over time, I found that this new approach created better results and brought a sense of fulfillment I had never experienced before.
This period also taught me the importance of resilience. When my family moved, I felt like I had hit rock bottom. But in that place of vulnerability, I found the strength to rebuild—not just my relationships but my sense of self. That’s a lesson I carry with me today: no matter how broken you feel, there’s always a way forward if you’re willing to face your truth and do the work.
Losing your son later in life must have been another profound challenge. How did that experience reshape your worldview?
Losing my son was the most devastating moment of my life. He was 14 years old, full of energy and potential, and then, in a single instant, he was gone. He had been closing a window on a windy day, and a tragic accident occurred. It’s something no parent ever imagines, and the grief was overwhelming.
At first, I didn’t know how to move forward. The pain was so immense that it felt like the world had stopped. But as the days and weeks passed, I realized that I had a choice: I could let this tragedy consume me, or I could find a way to honor my son by living with purpose. I chose the latter, though it was far from easy.
What helped me most was my faith and the support of the people around me. I allowed myself to grieve fully—to cry, to mourn, to feel the depth of my loss. But I also leaned into the practices that had helped me during earlier crises: prayer, meditation, and reflection. These gave me the strength to keep going, even on the hardest days.
This loss reshaped how I view everything—life, leadership, relationships. I’ve become more patient, more empathetic, and more aware of the preciousness of every moment. It’s also deepened my commitment to helping others navigate their own struggles. If sharing my story can help someone else find strength in their darkest hour, then I believe my son’s memory lives on through that.
"Every joy, every sorrow, every challenge—serves a purpose. We often get caught up in trying to control our circumstances, thinking that we have all the answers. But the truth is, there’s a greater wisdom at work in our lives. When you learn to trust that wisdom, to accept life as it unfolds, you find freedom and peace that no amount of success or wealth can provide."
Rustam Akhmetov
CELA'13, Kazakhstan
Rustam, you’ve spoken about the most difficult moments of your life, particularly the loss of your son. Can you share how your faith helped you navigate that time and how it continues to guide you today?
My faith has been my anchor, not just during the loss of my son but throughout my life’s most challenging moments. When my son passed, it was as if my entire world had been shattered. He was just 14 years old, and losing him felt like losing a part of myself. But in the midst of that unimaginable grief, my faith reminded me that life and death are not in our hands—they belong to a higher power.
I turned to prayer and meditation every day. These weren’t just rituals for me; they were lifelines that connected me to something greater than myself. In those quiet moments, I found strength, not to erase the pain but to carry it with grace. I kept reminding myself of one truth: “God gives, and God takes.” It’s a simple phrase, but it carries profound wisdom. It taught me to accept what I cannot control and trust that there is a purpose, even in the hardest experiences.
Faith also brought people into my life who supported me in ways I didn’t even know I needed. Friends, mentors, and spiritual guides appeared at just the right moments, offering comfort and perspective. I believe that was no coincidence. My son’s passing has deepened my understanding of life, death, and the importance of living with purpose and integrity. Now, every prayer I say includes a sense of gratitude—not just for the joys of life but for the lessons that come with its hardships.
Now, with everything you’ve experienced—joy and loss—what message do you hope to leave with others? What do you want people to take away from your story?
I plan to create the Institute of Consciousness—a platform for developing emotional intelligence and self-awareness. I want to help people better understand themselves and cope with life's challenges. The idea for the Institute of Consciousness comes from my journey of transformation. Over the years, I’ve realized that many of the challenges we face—whether they’re personal, professional, or societal—stem from a lack of awareness and understanding of ourselves. We carry emotional baggage, unresolved pain, and limiting beliefs that shape our decisions and interactions without us even realizing it. The Institute is my way of helping others unpack and overcome these barriers.
The core mission of the Institute will be to guide people toward self-awareness, emotional intelligence, and freedom from what I call “mental and emotional clutter.” Imagine a snow globe with snowflakes representing all the beliefs, fears, and anxieties clouding your vision. The goal is to settle those flakes so you can see clearly and choose from a place of calm and purpose.
We’re developing a methodology that combines practical tools, spiritual wisdom, and scientific insights to help people work through their challenges. This isn’t about therapy in the traditional sense; it’s about giving people the knowledge and resources to take control of their own lives. Whether navigating grief, managing stress, or building healthier relationships, the Institute will provide a framework for people to grow and thrive.
What excites me most is the potential to make a real impact, especially on family dynamics, workplace relationships, and even societal issues. If we can help people become more conscious of their actions and choices, I truly believe we can create a ripple effect that transforms individuals and entire communities.
What would you share with others if you could distill your life experiences into one piece of wisdom?
If there’s one lesson my life has taught me, it’s that everything—every joy, every sorrow, every challenge—serves a purpose. We often get caught up in trying to control our circumstances, thinking we have all the answers. But the truth is, there’s a greater wisdom at work in our lives. When you learn to trust that wisdom and to accept life as it unfolds, you find freedom and peace that no amount of success or wealth can provide.
I’d also say that true strength comes from vulnerability. For so many years, I thought leadership meant being invincible and never showing weakness. But it’s the opposite. When you allow yourself to be vulnerable—whether it’s sharing your struggles, admitting your mistakes, or asking for help—you create space for connection, growth, and healing. That’s what makes us human and what makes life meaningful.
My faith has been my anchor, not just during the loss of my son but throughout my life’s most challenging moments. When my son passed, it was as if my entire world had been shattered. He was just 14 years old, and losing him felt like losing a part of myself. But in the midst of that unimaginable grief, my faith reminded me that life and death are not in our hands—they belong to a higher power.
I turned to prayer and meditation every day. These weren’t just rituals for me; they were lifelines that connected me to something greater than myself. In those quiet moments, I found strength, not to erase the pain but to carry it with grace. I kept reminding myself of one truth: “God gives, and God takes.” It’s a simple phrase, but it carries profound wisdom. It taught me to accept what I cannot control and trust that there is a purpose, even in the hardest experiences.
Faith also brought people into my life who supported me in ways I didn’t even know I needed. Friends, mentors, and spiritual guides appeared at just the right moments, offering comfort and perspective. I believe that was no coincidence. My son’s passing has deepened my understanding of life, death, and the importance of living with purpose and integrity. Now, every prayer I say includes a sense of gratitude—not just for the joys of life but for the lessons that come with its hardships.
Now, with everything you’ve experienced—joy and loss—what message do you hope to leave with others? What do you want people to take away from your story?
I plan to create the Institute of Consciousness—a platform for developing emotional intelligence and self-awareness. I want to help people better understand themselves and cope with life's challenges. The idea for the Institute of Consciousness comes from my journey of transformation. Over the years, I’ve realized that many of the challenges we face—whether they’re personal, professional, or societal—stem from a lack of awareness and understanding of ourselves. We carry emotional baggage, unresolved pain, and limiting beliefs that shape our decisions and interactions without us even realizing it. The Institute is my way of helping others unpack and overcome these barriers.
The core mission of the Institute will be to guide people toward self-awareness, emotional intelligence, and freedom from what I call “mental and emotional clutter.” Imagine a snow globe with snowflakes representing all the beliefs, fears, and anxieties clouding your vision. The goal is to settle those flakes so you can see clearly and choose from a place of calm and purpose.
We’re developing a methodology that combines practical tools, spiritual wisdom, and scientific insights to help people work through their challenges. This isn’t about therapy in the traditional sense; it’s about giving people the knowledge and resources to take control of their own lives. Whether navigating grief, managing stress, or building healthier relationships, the Institute will provide a framework for people to grow and thrive.
What excites me most is the potential to make a real impact, especially on family dynamics, workplace relationships, and even societal issues. If we can help people become more conscious of their actions and choices, I truly believe we can create a ripple effect that transforms individuals and entire communities.
What would you share with others if you could distill your life experiences into one piece of wisdom?
If there’s one lesson my life has taught me, it’s that everything—every joy, every sorrow, every challenge—serves a purpose. We often get caught up in trying to control our circumstances, thinking we have all the answers. But the truth is, there’s a greater wisdom at work in our lives. When you learn to trust that wisdom and to accept life as it unfolds, you find freedom and peace that no amount of success or wealth can provide.
I’d also say that true strength comes from vulnerability. For so many years, I thought leadership meant being invincible and never showing weakness. But it’s the opposite. When you allow yourself to be vulnerable—whether it’s sharing your struggles, admitting your mistakes, or asking for help—you create space for connection, growth, and healing. That’s what makes us human and what makes life meaningful.