Dreaming Beyond the Comfort Zone

Looking back, I realize that I had been slowly losing my passion in the name of being “realistic.” Before attempting anything new, I calculated the odds. Instead of imagining what might be possible, I focused first on the limits of my talent, circumstances, and abilities. Even the experiences I had accumulated no longer felt like stepping stones; at times, they seemed like weights holding me back. Perhaps I had been growing older in a way I was not entirely proud of.
The people I met through GESS, however, did not wait for perfect conditions. Each faced different constraints, yet they began with whatever resources they had. Confronted with the same problem, some turned to technology, others to empathy and insight, and still others to speed, execution, or persuasion. Watching them taught me that progress does not begin when every condition is finally in place. It begins with an imperfect first step: a small experiment, a willingness to be wrong, and the courage to learn from what follows.

My time in Silicon Valley also changed the way I understood technology and entrepreneurship. I had once believed that good technology was defined by sophisticated implementation and exceptional performance. The entrepreneurs I met began elsewhere. They asked: What problem does this solve? Why does it matter now? Why would anyone choose it? An engineer may focus on solving a given problem more accurately and efficiently, but an entrepreneur must first determine which problems are worth solving at all.

The distinction between these two mindsets became increasingly clear to me. I had been trained to ask whether a technology worked and how far its performance could be improved. An entrepreneur must look beyond the technology itself—to people, markets, funding, feasibility, and execution. Even in a technology-driven startup, technology is only one part of a much larger system. Through GESS, I came to recognize the limits of viewing every challenge solely through an engineer’s lens. I needed to learn not only how to build, but also how to connect: technical possibility to human need, an idea to a market, and innovation to lasting value.

The lecture by the CEO of ImpriMed brought this lesson vividly to life. Transforming research into a real company required far more than scientific excellence. It demanded funding, infrastructure, regulatory knowledge, clinical strategy, investor relationships, and colleagues who believed in the same direction. I was especially struck by the company’s decision to acquire a drug that had been dismissed as a failure, identify through a new biomarker the patients most likely to benefit from it, and turn an abandoned asset into a renewed opportunity. Rather than asking only, “Why did this fail?” the company asked, “For whom might it still work?”
That shift in perspective changed not only the value of the technology, but the direction of the business itself. Engineering analysis did more than explain the past; it redefined the problem, the customer, and the future.
When I think back on the final Silicon Valley round, however, I still feel a lingering sense of regret. Fear of presenting and anxiety about failure kept me from making the bold change we had considered. At the time, choosing the safer path seemed rational. Yet because it was such a rare opportunity—one unlikely to return in the same form—I now wish I had taken the risk and gone all in. Even an imperfect attempt would have taught me something that safety never could. I do not want to carry that moment merely as regret. I want it to remain as a promise to myself: when a similar opportunity comes again, I will choose curiosity over fear, possibility over comfort, and courage over certainty.
GESS was far more than an overseas program or a course in entrepreneurship. It became a turning point that helped me rediscover both the passion I had lost and the reason I chose to study engineering. I no longer want to wait for perfect conditions or guaranteed success. I want to build with what I have, test what I believe, learn from failure, and begin again. Rather than becoming someone who merely improves the performance of technology, I want to become someone who continually asks whose life it can improve, what needs it can serve, and how it can create meaningful change. Someday, I hope I can encourage someone else to dream more boldly—and help them rediscover a passion they had nearly forgotten.

Finally, I would like to express my deepest gratitude to the GESS staff, who embraced us with warmth and generosity through every unexpected situation. Throughout the program, I could sense how much inconvenience, effort, and unseen labor they willingly took on so that we could learn, explore, and challenge ourselves more freely. Even when faced with sudden requests and unforeseen difficulties, they sought first to understand our perspective and continued working until a solution was found. Their care went far beyond program administration. It created the trust and security that allowed us to take risks without being consumed by the fear of failure. Because they met our imperfect and inexperienced moments not with judgment, but with patience and kindness, GESS will remain in my memory not simply as a program, but as a community shaped by genuine care.

May everyone who reads this find the passion to dream again—and the courage to step beyond the comfort of certainty.