My Inner Journey

In the dark night of the soul, I found illumination. The very insight was simple: since most of the suffering I endured was imposed upon me by forces beyond my control, rather than born of my own making, — instead of remaining a self-pitying victim or defining myself by grievance, I resolved to take responsibility for my part in shaping the world, acting in ways that advance the growth of humankind as a whole, — almost driven by a kind of Kantian moral law within (categorical imperative): Ich muss; es muss sein (I must; it must be so).

During my years of study in Europe, I encountered severe xenophobia, discrimination, and even physical assault during the pandemic. Time and again, I sank into despair, unable to glimpse even the faintest glimmer of hope. Hypocrisy and dysfunctional governance left me feeling powerless.

Yet it was precisely these experiences that awakened in me a resolute desire: to do everything within my power to ensure that others would not have to retrace the path I endured, and that social governance would never again descend into such cruelty. I believe that as an entrepreneur, one may influence thousands; as a statesman, one may shape the destiny of millions; but as a thinker, one may reach beyond a single generation and speak to countless futures yet unborn.

I am profoundly grateful for the resilience that carried me through relentless trials and refused to bow before fate—without it, I would not be who I am today. The hardships I faced were not of my own making; they were tragic by-products of a fractured social climate. And yet they shaped me. They led me to the partner I cherish, to the land I belong to. The discrimination I experienced in Europe affirmed my faith in the value of diversity, toleration, and inclusion, strengthened my resolve to seek a philosophy that truly benefits others' lives, and deepened my commitment to a freer, more inclusive world. The suffering I witnessed during the pandemic clarified for me what truly alleviates human pain. For the first time, I found myself voluntarily, and in a faith-driven spirit, eager to master the very knowledge I had once been forced to acquire in helpless circumstances. I chose economics as a path of public service.

As the sages of old observed, great leaders often rise from humble beginnings, and formidable generals emerge from the ranks. Because I have endured hardships others can scarcely imagine, I am better able to discern the fissures in policy, to detect risks early, to prevent small cracks from becoming catastrophic fractures, and to support those already structurally disadvantaged before crises spiral beyond control. My trials honed me into a steward of crisis. There was a time when fate nearly broke me—when, at my lowest point, I did not even have a stable desk at which to study. And yet those very hardships deepened my gratitude: I still have the chance to pursue my calling and to make a meaningful difference in the fields I care about.

Today, I seek to embody my vocation through philosophy, economics, and public service. I am grateful beyond measure to the teachers and mentors who guided me, inspired me, and taught me to love learning. Yet above all, I thank the self within me who remained insatiably curious, who refused to stop, who dared to challenge the impossible and to dream on a grander scale. For it is only those audacious enough to believe they can change the world who ever truly do.

For a long time, I spoke only with intellect and reason; my words did not come from the heart. Now I speak from its depths. A spirit weighed down by melancholy cannot lead the world.

My faith was born in a singular moment.

Wracked with anguish and on the brink of collapse, when I found myself almost at war with my fate, I thought of Spinoza. What kind of lofty and steadfast inner strength must one possess to endure profound suffering and yet preserve the integrity of the soul, to keep its inner light from being extinguished?

My conviction and optimism proved stronger than my pain and depression. It was fidelity to that vision that drew me back from the precipice and guarded what remained unbroken within me.

At one point, I nearly fell to my knees, ready to surrender to fate, to suffering, to a perilous world—to plead for protection from some higher power. But just as I bowed my head to pray, I realised something startling: I did not know how to pray. I had never learned.

So I turned inward and prayed to myself. In that instant, I found my inner strength and wisdom.

In the end, I passed through those tempests unscathed, miraculously traversing that long night. I do not know how I survived, but I did—and I was reborn.

For a long time, I believed in nothing. I was impatient for some ultimate spiritual truth; superficial values and conventional philosophical or theological explanations seemed insufficient. The constraints and disillusionments that followed bred a sense of meaninglessness that was both painful and terrifying. I read widely—philosophies, theories, the lives of saints, great minds, their moments of awakening. And yet my true faith did not arise from books. It was forged in suffering, discovered by my own hand in the struggle that nearly consumed my life and wrested from me all command over my own fate.