Hey friends,

I used to think New Year's resolutions were stupid.

Actually, I still do.

Not because change is impossible, but because most people go about it completely wrong. They set surface-level goals because everyone else does. They convince themselves this year will be different. They grind for two weeks, then quietly go back to their old ways without much struggle.

The problem? They're trying to build a great life on a rotting foundation.

This week, I read a post by Dan Koe called "How to fix your entire life in 1 day." My first reaction was skepticism. Another productivity guru selling the dream. Another framework that sounds good but doesn't actually work.

Then I read it. All of it.

And I realized something uncomfortable: most of what he said was true. Not in a motivational poster kind of way, but in a "this is how the mind actually works" kind of way.

So this week's edition isn't a case study of a company. It's not an analysis of a shipping route or a business model. It's about something more fundamental: how to actually change who you are, not just what you do.

Whether you're stuck in your career, your habits, your relationships, or your own head—this might be the most practical thing you read all year.

Let's dig in.

Here's the part most people don't want to hear:

If you want a specific outcome in life, you must have the lifestyle that creates that outcome long before you reach it.

Let me translate that out of self-help speak.

If you say you want to lose 30 pounds, but you can't wait until you're done so you can "start enjoying life again," you don't actually want to lose weight. You want the result of weight loss without being the kind of person who would naturally maintain that result.

The same applies to your career.

If you say you want to move into leadership but you can't stand the idea of dealing with people's problems, having difficult conversations, or taking responsibility for others' mistakes—you don't want to be a leader. You want the title and salary without the identity shift required to earn it.

This sounds simple. But it's baffling how many people don't get it.

I've seen this in my own career. When I moved from operations to procurement, I didn't just learn new skills. I had to become a different kind of professional. Operations rewards execution—getting things done fast, solving problems in the moment. Procurement rewards patience, analysis, negotiation. If I had tried to "do procurement" with an operations mindset, I would have failed.

And now, moving into commercial, it's happening again. Commercial isn't just "selling stuff." It's understanding people, building relationships, managing expectations, knowing when to push and when to wait. If I don't become someone who naturally thinks that way, no amount of discipline will make me successful.

Here's the brutal truth Dan Koe lays out:

You say you want to change. But your actions show otherwise—for a reason. And it goes a lot deeper than you think.

This is the part that made me uncomfortable.

All behavior is goal-oriented.

You scratch your nose because you want the itch gone. You take a step forward because you want to reach a location. Simple.

But most of the time, your goals are unconscious. And sometimes, those unconscious goals are actively harming you.

Example:

If you can't stop procrastinating your work, you might think you "lack discipline." But the truth? You're pursuing a goal—protecting yourself from the judgment that comes from finishing and sharing your work.

If you say you want to quit your dead-end job but stay in it without any real reason, you might think you "lack courage." But actually, you're pursuing the goal of safety, predictability, and an excuse to not look like a failure to everyone who sees that job as success.

Dan Koe puts it bluntly:

I had to sit with that one.

How many times have I said I wanted something but never moved toward it? How many times did I justify staying put because of some external reason, when the real reason was internal—fear, comfort, identity protection?

Here's what I realized about myself:

I've delayed things I knew I should do because I was afraid of the outcome. Not consciously. But looking back, it's obvious. The job applications I didn't send. The conversations I didn't have. The risks I didn't take.

I told myself it was "timing" or "being strategic." The truth? I was protecting myself from potential rejection.

That's an unconscious goal. And it was running the show.

Real change requires changing your goals. Not setting new surface-level goals. Changing your point of view—the lens through which you see reality.

Because that's what a goal actually is: a projection into the future that determines what you notice, what you consider important, and what you ignore.

Here's how you became who you are today (and how you'll become who you'll be tomorrow):

If that cycle is built on the wrong foundation, it gets dangerous fast.

Most of this starts in childhood. You had to conform to survive. Your parents rewarded and punished you to teach you their beliefs and values. Unless you saw through this, you never actually thought for yourself.

And here's the kicker: when your identity feels threatened, you go into fight or flight.

If you're heavily identified with a political ideology, you feel physically stressed when someone challenges it. Like you were slapped in the face.

If you were raised in a religious household and never questioned it, you attack others who threaten your psychological safety.

The same thing happens if you unconsciously see yourself as "the type of person who would never take risks" or "the type of person who isn't cut out for leadership."

Your identity becomes a prison. And breaking out requires recognizing the bars.

I've felt this. The impostor syndrome I mentioned earlier? That's identity protection.

When I moved into procurement, I felt like I didn't belong. I was "an operations guy." Procurement was for analysts, negotiators, people who could sit in spreadsheets all day. Not me.

But that was just a story. A limiting belief shaped by how I'd been conditioned to see myself.

When I started to act like someone who belonged in procurement—asking better questions, learning the frameworks, owning the role—the identity shifted. Not overnight. But gradually.

And now, moving to commercial, I'm doing it again. Fighting the voice that says "you're not a salesperson." Recognizing that voice for what it is: fear disguised as identity.

Dan Koe talks about stages of ego development. I'm not going to bore you with the full academic breakdown, but the basic idea is this:

Your mind evolves through predictable stages over time.

Most people get stuck at one stage and never move beyond it. And if you don't understand which stage you're in, you can't level up.

Here's the 80/20 version:

Conformist: You are your group. Its rules feel like reality itself. You can't fathom why anyone would think differently.

Self-Aware: You notice you have an inner life that doesn't match the exterior. You're sitting in a meeting realizing you don't actually agree with what everyone's saying, but you don't know what to do with that feeling yet.

Conscientious: You build your own system of principles and hold yourself accountable. You leave behind what doesn't work and adopt what does, based on your own analysis.

Individualist: You see that your principles were shaped by context. You realize your ambitious career goals might've been about earning someone else's approval, not your own fulfillment.

Strategist: You work within systems while aware of your own involvement in them. You question your blind spots. You engage with the world knowing your perspective is partial.

Construct-Aware: You see all frameworks—including your identity—as useful fictions. You hold beliefs metaphorically, not literally. You play roles (founder, manager, professional) with a kind of detached awareness.

Unitive: Separation between self and life dissolves. Work, rest, play feel like the same thing. There's no one left who needs to become something. Just presence responding to what arises.

Most people reading this probably hover between Self-Aware and Strategist. That's a huge range.

The good news? Moving through stages follows a pattern. And understanding that pattern helps you accelerate growth.

Dan Koe redefines intelligence using a framework called cybernetics—the art of steering toward a goal.

Here's how it works:

That's it. That's intelligence.

High intelligence = the ability to iterate, persist, and understand the big picture.

Low intelligence = getting stuck on problems rather than solving them. Hitting a roadblock and quitting because you "lack discipline" or "aren't cut out for it."

Here's what this means in practice:

Low intelligence: "I tried to build my network and it didn't work, so I gave up."

High intelligence: "I tried one approach to networking and it didn't work. Let me try a different strategy. And another. And another. Until I figure out what works for me."

The reality is that you can achieve any goal you set your mind to—on a large enough timescale and with enough iteration.

The question isn't "Can I do this?" The question is "Am I willing to iterate long enough to figure out how?"

I've seen this in my own career. When I started Sunday Compass in 2024, I had no idea if anyone would read it. The first few months? Crickets. Low engagement. Barely any subscribers.

I could've quit. Told myself "I'm not a writer" or "the maritime industry doesn't care about this kind of content."

Instead, I iterated. Tried different topics. Adjusted the tone. Focused on what resonated. Stopped chasing news and started building a hemeroteca—an archive of timeless analysis.

And slowly, it worked. Not because I was naturally good at it. Because I was willing to keep trying different things until something clicked.

That's intelligence.

Now we get to the practical part.

Dan Koe lays out a full-day protocol to reset your life. I'm not going to reproduce the entire thing here (it's comprehensive—you can read the full post here), but I'll give you the framework and the questions that hit me hardest.

The protocol has three parts:

Morning: Psychological Excavation (Vision & Anti-Vision)

Throughout the Day: Interrupting Autopilot (Breaking Unconscious Patterns)

Evening: Synthesizing Insight (Entering a Season of Progress)

Most people focus on what they want. Dan Koe flips that.

First, get brutally honest about the life you don't want.

Questions that made me squirm:

Here's why this works:

When you vividly imagine the life you're drifting toward—the one you'll have if you change nothing—you create negative motivation. Disgust. Urgency. A visceral need to move.

That energy is far more powerful than vague aspirations about "success."

I sat with these questions. And honestly? It was uncomfortable.

If I don't change anything, I can see exactly where I'll be in five years. The same frustrations. The same lack of progress in areas I claim to care about. The same excuses.

That realization lit a fire.

Set reminders on your phone with these questions:

The goal? Interrupt autopilot.

Most of us sleepwalk through the day. We do things because we've always done them. We avoid things because we've always avoided them.

These interrupts force you to become conscious of your patterns.

I started doing this. Not every day, but often enough. And it's shocking how much of what I do is just... habitual. Not intentional. Not aligned with who I say I want to be.

Just pattern repetition.

At the end of the day, you synthesize everything into a plan:

This is where it gets real.

Not vague goals like "be healthier" or "grow my career." Concrete, specific actions tied to a clear vision.

For me:

Is this perfect? No. Will it evolve? Absolutely.

But it's real. And it's mine.

Here's the final piece Dan Koe emphasizes:

Life becomes obsession-worthy when you structure it like a game.

Games have:

When you organize your goals this way, distractions lose their weight. Shiny objects don't matter anymore. You're locked into your game.

I used to think this was silly. Gamifying life felt... childish.

But here's the truth: goals give structure. And structure creates clarity. And clarity creates momentum.

I don't write Sunday Compass every week because I'm "disciplined." I write it because it's part of the game I'm playing. It's a quest that unlocks future opportunities.

I don't force myself to learn about commercial strategy. I do it because it's how I level up in the role I chose.

When you frame it that way, it stops feeling like a grind. It starts feeling like progress.

Dan Koe's framework isn't magic. It's not a hack. It's a structured way to become conscious of the patterns running your life and decide if you want to keep them.

Here's what I'm taking from it:

1. Identity change > behavior change.

If you're trying to force yourself to do things that don't align with who you think you are, you'll fail. Change who you are first. The behavior follows.

2. Your unconscious goals are running the show.

Most of what you do is driven by goals you don't even realize you have. Fear. Comfort. Identity protection. If you don't make them conscious, they'll keep steering you in the wrong direction.

3. Iteration beats perfection.

Intelligence isn't knowing the answer. It's being willing to try, fail, adjust, and try again until you figure it out.

4. Structure creates freedom.

Constraints aren't limitations. They're guardrails that keep you focused on what matters. Vision, anti-vision, goals, projects, daily levers—these aren't restrictions. They're clarity.

5. You're not going to "find" yourself. You're going to build yourself.

Stop waiting for clarity. Stop waiting for the perfect moment. Start acting like the person you want to become, and eventually, you'll realize you became them.

I don't know if this will resonate with you the way it did with me. But if you're feeling stuck—in your career, your habits, your mindset—this framework is worth trying.

Not because it's easy. Because it works.

You can read Dan Koe's full post here: How to fix your entire life in 1 day

Set aside a day. Do the protocol. See what happens.

You might be surprised at what you uncover.

Cheers,

Fernando