I built the mirror I needed first.

Five Lights started as one question I couldn't answer about my own life: why did every version of "the plan" — chef, restaurant owner, a string of ventures with Beyza — keep failing for what felt like a different reason each time?

I trained as a chef, ran kitchens, and gave it up — not because I stopped loving food, but because fourteen-hour shifts were stealing time from the person I loved more. I built and dropped half a dozen ventures chasing "the one that works." None of them failed for the reason I thought at the time. They failed because I didn't yet know who I actually was — my real skills, what I genuinely enjoyed, how I could help people, how I actually thrive — so I kept building on guesses instead of on myself. That was the biggest problem, the one causing the most damage. Once I turned inward and started answering it honestly, everything else got easier to solve — even the very practical question of where we should live.

Five Lights is what I built once I understood why. It's the instrument I wished I'd had at every one of those forks — real astronomy, real reflection psychology, and a symbolic mirror, fused into one honest Mission Log. Not a horoscope. Not a verdict. A mirror, checked against your own words, that hands you your next step.

Read the full story ↓

Built with Beyza — my partner in this and everything else.

What the Mission Log actually says

"You start things before anyone gives you the go-ahead, and you run several at once… that isn't scatter."

"You lower your own price to keep people comfortable — and it costs you every time."

"In your design there is no such thing as failure — only eliminated hypotheses."

This is a self-reflection tool, not an empirically validated science and not a prediction. Keep what rings true, and leave the rest.

Why this matters to you

You can spend years finding your own answers the slow way — new cities, new ventures, new courses, the way I did. Or you can start with an honest instrument that shows you who you already are, so you stop guessing and take your next step now.

The full story

I've been obsessed with cooking since I was a kid. While my friends watched cartoons, I watched Jamie Oliver, Anthony Bourdain, and Gordon Ramsay. I was cooking at home by age 10. I wanted to open a restaurant — for a while I even wanted to be a doctor, specifically a neurosurgeon, but once I got to high school I realized I wasn't someone who loved studying that hard, and the chef dream pulled me back.

Instead of culinary school, I studied business and economics at university — I already knew cooking alone wouldn't be enough for me long-term, so I chose that path deliberately. After graduating, I went on to study Professional Culinary Arts and Food & Beverage Management at MSA. I worked in kitchens for a while.

Then I met Beyza. We fell in love. And somewhere in the middle of those long kitchen shifts, I realized I couldn't see her as much as I wanted to, that I missed her constantly, and that chasing this dream wasn't worth the time it cost us together. The restaurant industry is brutal — you work hardest exactly when everyone else is on vacation. Everything has to be flawless; one small mistake can undo an entire service. Fourteen-to-seventeen-hour days are normal, and I lived plenty of those.

After I let go of the kitchen dream, I gave myself time to figure out what was next. I took courses in digital marketing, entrepreneurship, sales, consulting business models, agency-building — I attacked it from every angle, tried several different projects. Beyza and I wanted to build something together. I tried a number of ventures. At some point I started to feel pretty discouraged.

That's when I realized I needed to turn inward — not into another course or another project, but into the actual question underneath all of them: who am I, really? What am I actually good at? What do I enjoy enough to do for decades? How do I help people, how do I make things better for them, and how do I thrive instead of just surviving? None of my ventures had failed because the idea was bad. They failed because I didn't yet know the answers to those questions — so I kept building on guesses instead of on myself.

In the process of answering them honestly, I came back to astrology. And then something clicked: I could keep changing projects forever and hit the same wall every time, because the projects were never the actual problem. The biggest problem — the one causing the most damage — was that I didn't truly know myself. Once I started answering that honestly, everything else got easier to solve, including the very practical question of where we should even live.

After research, we decided Canada was the right fit for us. (We later noticed — half-joking — that Canada showed up in my own astrocartography chart for growth, expansion, and abundance.) We moved. I enrolled in Business Insight & Data Analytics to sharpen the tools I'd need to make my ventures work; Beyza went into Marketing Management. Together, we'd be able to build things — and more importantly, never have to be apart to do it.

The idea for Five Lights had actually been in my head 3-4 years before we ever moved to Canada. I just hadn't started building it. But once we made the move and solved the biggest problem, everything else started falling into place on its own — the pieces lined up, the doors opened.

And here we are. Beyza and I, in our own home, with our sweet pup Luka, building a beautiful life together — and building Five Lights: the instrument I wish I'd had years earlier, one that answers the question that was actually causing all the damage — not "where should I live" or "which venture should I try next," but who am I, really — before you spend years finding out the hard way. My hope is that Five Lights can touch everyone's life the way it's touched mine, and carry them forward — to the stars, and beyond.

Luka — quality control, moral support, occasional keyboard supervisor.

Everyone is made of starlight. I built the tool that shows you which light is yours.