Welcome to a space where business acumen and introspection converge—a place I like to call Entrepreneur in Resonance. This perspective emerged when I recognized that my entrepreneurial journey had naturally shifted from relentless “doing” to deeper reflection. After founding businesses on multiple continents, immersing myself in diverse cultures, and navigating the unpredictable terrain of startup life, I began to see that the work was no longer just “out there”: other places, in the marketplace…. It had become just as vital inside, in the form of reflective practice.
In the startup world, the title Entrepreneur in Residence often signals a seasoned operator brought into an organization or venture fund to develop new projects. Over the years, I’ve held such roles—and I relished the thrill of launching ventures, mentoring teams, and bringing fresh ideas to life.
Yet, after a decade of continuous enterprise-building, I found myself longing for more than the next big project. I realized that, amid all the doing, I had rarely paused to resonate with what I’d built or fully absorb the personal growth hidden in each venture’s story.
“Resonance” here is more than a metaphor. It’s the idea that, like an echo, our experiences ring back at us—if we listen. The shift from in residence to in resonance marks a more inward-looking approach, where the entrepreneurial energy still exists but is balanced with reflection, integration, and personal meaning.
My turning point occurred around midlife, while living in India. There, I encountered the concept of Vanaprastha—the forest-dweller stage—one of the four traditional Hindu life stages (ashramas).
When I first learned about Vanaprastha, I was still very much in entrepreneurial mode: founding startups, exploring new markets, living abroad. But something resonated. I realized my inner drive to pause and look back on the path I had carved. Like the forest dweller in ancient times who leaves behind worldly obligations (or at least sets them to the side) to seek wisdom, I, too, felt compelled to slow down, peel back the layers of my experiences, and reflect on their deeper significance.
Over the course of my career, I’ve started businesses on four continents. Each new environment brought its own cultural, logistical, and psychological learning curves. Whether it was navigating bureaucracy in post-communist Eastern Europe, building networks in Latin America, or adopting a new pace of life in Asia, each chapter contributed invaluable experiences.
Yet, while I was living these entrepreneurial adventures, there was sufficient time to examine them. I was too busy moving forward: pitching investors, hiring teams, solving crises. It took stepping into a more reflective stage—my own “Vanaprastha”—to see patterns, harvest lessons, and come to terms with mistakes made and opportunities seized (and missed).