Adulting101

manhood

Quiet Geniuses Among Us

Friends leaning on a campus balcony railing

Have you ever heard someone say something so profound that it stays with you for life? I’m not talking about charlatans masquerading as motivational speakers. I’m referring to classmates, friends, or coworkers who, despite occasional silliness, drop a line in conversation that hits you squarely in the face. In that moment, you realise you’re among great minds, secret geniuses who see things from completely different perspectives. Other times, the truth in their words cuts deep into your heart, leaving you no choice but to change for the better. Despite the sting, you appreciate them for telling you the hard truth.

As human beings, we often overlook the people around us. That’s why, when you start building a brand, a business, or simply exploring your talent, the people most likely to discourage you are those closest to you. It’s human nature not to expect extraordinary things from the person next door. We often expect greatness from people who are far away. Only when they hear third parties sing your praises do those close to you recognise and appreciate your worth.

Nobody transitions from childhood to adulthood unscathed. We lose loved ones, endure traumatic experiences, or witness family members facing hardship, all of which ultimately affect our mental health. Words may not break our bones, but they have a profound impact on us. A negative comment from an adult you look up to or a friend can stay with you forever. Conversely, words of affirmation can leave a lasting impact. Just one person expressing confidence in your potential can set you on a path to success.

Today, I reminisce about statements made about 10 years ago, when I was still in campus. These statements have helped me navigate adulthood. The kicker is that they were all made by my peers, so their wisdom was not solely based on age.

On most Wednesdays, a couple of classmates and I would go to a restaurant on campus run by students pursuing hospitality-related courses. The restaurant offered three-course meals at a bargain. During these lunches, we would talk about our ambitions in life and the challenges we faced.

At one point, the university administration issued a circular stating that, in the following semester, all senior students would have to seek accommodation off campus. Having lived in hostels and still recovering from the loss of a business I had invested all my money in, I was extremely worried about how I would pay the bills. I raised this concern at our next lunch meeting.

“Get a house and move in. I can assure you that things will improve, and you will always pay your rent on time,” said Jose.

At the time, Jose was staying in a two-bedroom apartment and running a few side businesses, so I didn’t think he fully understood my predicament. However, I decided to move out the next semester, even though I was jittery about living off campus. Strangely enough, I soon discovered publications where I could write articles and get paid. I became a freelancer, spinning SEO articles that helped me pay all my bills on time and raise enough capital for the next business I started. It was only later that I realised what Jose meant: once you take a leap of faith, somehow the universe conspires to help you succeed. You never truly know what you can achieve or handle until you are put to the test.

Having performed well in exams throughout my schooling and earned a few trophies, I was constantly worried about the possibility of failure. Being accustomed to success bred a deep fear of not winning. This fear made me take fewer risks and try to control outcomes. I became a control freak, almost a nervous wreck, constantly worrying about the most trivial things in life. On the other hand, my wingman Nelly lived carefree. He wasn’t bogged down by the future; instead, he seized each day as it came. Together, we would walk up to girls on campus, trying out our best pick-up lines and boosting our egos about being cool dudes.

As I approached two beauties who had been eyeing us at a concert on campus, I turned to Nelly and asked, “Dude, how come you’re never stressed out about life?”

“Man, as long as umeshiba, ukang’ara, and you’ve done your best, there’s nothing to stress about in life,” retorted Nelly.

His words struck a chord with me. I realised that for the longest time I had been worrying about the future, yet every time I had managed to navigate the challenges I faced. Constant worrying did not prevent bad things from happening, and even when they did, they weren’t fatal. I decided to live by Nelly’s mantra. It became central to maintaining my sanity later, during a quarter-life crisis. During that period, I was struggling to carve out an unconventional career path, leaving the house at 7 am and getting back home at 1 am, working two jobs with very little to show for it. I would often tell myself, “As long as umeshiba, ukang’ara and you’ve done your best, there’s no stress.” This mindset helped me push through periods of extreme stress until all the sacrifice and hard work paid off.

I find it easy to make new friends, understand people, and really connect with pretty much anyone, which is why I often find myself moderating conversations at most meetups. However, that wasn’t always the case. For the longest time, I was hard on myself and on everyone around me. I despised mediocrity or anything average, and I couldn’t understand why anyone else wouldn’t seek to be the very best in everything they did or strive for grand things in life. I would label people who stayed in toxic relationships or workplaces as cowards and had choice words for those I felt were not living up to their full potential, instead choosing to remain in their comfort zone.

One evening, my roommate Philo, fed up with my BS, said to me, “The only reason you keep yapping and calling others lazy is that you’re speaking from a position of privilege. If only you knew the battles some of us have fought, you would understand why we yearn for things you consider average.”

I went silent. The whip of his words shattered my rose-tinted glasses. I realised that, in my naivety, I had expected everyone else to care about and aspire to the same things I did. Yet we all come from completely different socioeconomic backgrounds. They did not have the support system or advantages in life that I did. If I had been in their shoes, I would probably have been worse off than they were. It was an eye-opener, a lesson for me to first understand where someone has come from, the story behind their scars, aspirations, and hopes in life, before giving any advice. Because what you or I may consider normal, average, or even mediocre could be someone else’s dream.

Jaymo, the entrepreneur, was a busy man from his first year. While the rest of us were concerned about finishing school assignments on time, he was building several streams of income, riding the internet wave. He hardly wasted time after class, instead, he chased the next deal. Thanks to his laser focus, he’s doing well and expanding his empire.

One afternoon, as I told him about a business idea I was working on and described the challenges ahead, Jaymo said to me, “Whenever you want to level up or start working on something that can truly transform your life for the better, you must expect growth pains. A little pain, discomfort, and sacrifice are the only things standing between you and greatness.” He quickly moved on to other tales, perhaps unaware of the weight of what he had just said.

As someone who has worked on multiple projects across diverse fields with people from different cultures, I’ve never experienced a moment of stillness. I face a myriad of new challenges with each project. It’s extremely difficult to learn a new way of doing things, build synergy with new people, or work in a completely unfamiliar field. The first few weeks are filled with late nights and early mornings, sometimes working through weekends, only to make glaring errors or deliver substandard work. These are the times when I get close to giving up, but then I remember Jaymo’s words. I give it three months before deciding whether to pull the plug. What I have found is that holding on for this period gives me the chance to adapt to the new challenges and increase my capacity. Every single time, by the time I cross the three-month mark, I have fully adapted to my new project.

Consequently, I have been able to take on more risks in my new ventures, stay strong through difficult times, and attempt what seems impossible in life. I have embraced pain and discomfort as part of growth.

We often seek inspiration and wisdom from people far away, but greatness often lies closer to home. Pay attention to what those around you say; there may be nuggets of wisdom in their words. Those around us see the nooks and crannies in our lives that we don’t. Listening to the wise among us can truly help you reorient your life and become a better human. Listen more!

Mark Maish

Written by Mark Maish

Civil engineer by training, business strategist by trade and storyteller at heart.

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8 Comments

  1. Interesting read as always It’s true, wisdom and inspiration is usually closer than we think. It’s this collage of insights assembled from different sources that make us whole. I am glad that my frank phraseology changed your perspective for the better

  2. ‘I have embraced pain & discomfort as part of growth’. Not easy but very important. Great piece.

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