Vol.1, Ed. 44 March 15, 2026 - ✨The Secret Wasn’t a Secret

"First forget inspiration. Habit is more dependable. Habit will sustain you whether you're inspired or not.” — Octavia Butler

Dear Brilliant Community,

Over the last year, I've been learning in a way that feels both familiar and new.

Familiar because I've always loved to learn. Books have been my companions for as long as I can remember. Ideas have always been the way I make sense of the world.

But new because the learning lately has been focused on something very specific: business.

Not just how to start one—but how businesses actually grow and last.

Over the last several months I've been more intentional about becoming a student of entrepreneurship. I joined the Launch Raleigh program. I'm participating in a sustainability-focused business incubator. I've entered a few pitch competitions. And, of course, I've been reading—because reading is what I do.

But something else kept coming up in conversation with my coach.

“You need to talk to people.”

Not just read.

Not just think.

Talk.

To founders. To people who have been doing this longer than you. To people who have already walked the road you're trying to understand.

My parents have said the same thing to me more than once over the years. “You've got to get out of your head.”

Now, thinking has never been a problem for me. I can sit with an idea for a long time. I can turn it around, examine it from different angles, and think through possibilities.

But thinking and moving are not the same thing.

And for the last six or seven months, I've had a running list of people I wanted to reach out to. Friends who have been in business for years. People whose work I respect. People who might be willing to share a little bit of their experience.

I probably rewrote that list three or four different times—which is another way of saying I kept postponing the calls.

And if I'm honest, I'm not even sure what I thought I was waiting for. Maybe I didn't feel ready yet. Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe I didn't want to bother people.

But when I finally reached out this week, something surprising happened. The people who had shown up on that list again and again—especially three women whose work I deeply respect—responded almost immediately. Within twenty-four hours, every one of them wrote back.

Not cautiously.

Not reluctantly.

Generously.

Of course.

I'd love to talk.

Let's set something up.

And in that moment I realized something that was a little humbling.

I wasn't waiting on them.

I was waiting on myself.

One of those conversations happened yesterday.

It was supposed to be a quick catch-up.

It turned into nearly three hours—one of those conversations where you forget to look at the clock.

The person I was talking to has been running their business for twenty-one years. Twenty-one years is the long game. Long enough to have seen cycles. Long enough to know what works and what doesn't.

At some point in the conversation I asked a question that I suspect a lot of people ask.

“What’s the secret?”

They laughed.

There wasn't one.

No magic bullet. No single moment where everything suddenly made sense.

Instead, they described something much simpler.

For years, they kept their head down and focused on the work.

They knew what they wanted to build, and they stayed committed to that vision.

Day after day, they did the work that needed to be done.

And one day they looked up and realized they had built a successful business.

Not perfect. Not without lessons or things they might do differently if they had the chance to start over.

But real.

And sustainable.

That conversation stayed with me.

Because it wasn't the first time I've heard something like that.

Over the last several months I've talked to a handful of friends who have been running businesses for years—people in different industries, different stages, different paths.

And I'm starting to notice a pattern.

None of them talked about a formula.

None of them talked about a magic strategy.

None of them talked about chasing some perfect outcome.

They talked about focus.

They talked about staying committed to the work.

That idea has been sitting with me for a few days now, especially during Ramadan.

If you've ever observed Ramadan, you know that it's not just about fasting. It's about restraint. It's about discipline. It's about creating the space to listen more carefully—to yourself, to your intentions, to the things that might get lost in the noise of everyday life.

And during that quiet space, another idea kept surfacing for me: the law of detachment.

Not being married to the outcome.

Being committed to the work.

That doesn't mean they didn't want their businesses to succeed.

Of course they did.

But the founders I've been talking to didn't seem obsessed with outcomes in the way we sometimes talk about business success.

They were focused on building something that worked.

They were committed to the work itself.

And slowly, over time, the business grew around that commitment.

Over the last few months I've been trying to figure out what kind of business I'm actually building.

Not just what I do.

But what the work is really about.

And after a handful of conversations this week, something finally clicked for me.

I'm still sitting with it.

But here's what I'm beginning to see: the founders who last don't seem obsessed with outcomes in the way we often talk about success.

They're focused on the work.

The conversations.

The building.

The quiet, often invisible progress that compounds over time.

And I know many of you are doing that same kind of quiet work right now.

Work that doesn't always feel visible—but matters more than we realize.

This week, I'm practicing that.

Committing to the calls.

The questions.

The quiet work that doesn't feel urgent but compounds over time.

If you're in a season where the results aren't matching the effort, here's a small experiment you might try:

For one week, forget the outcome.

Focus on the work you'd want to be doing anyway.

At the start of each day, ask yourself:

"What's one piece of work I'd want to do this week even if no one noticed or rewarded me for it?"

Then do that.

See what shifts.

I'll share more about what I'm learning next week—including the question that helped me see what I've been missing.

Because sometimes the shift isn't about doing more.

It's about finally seeing the pattern.

Be Well,

Soyini