Good at what interested me.

School was something I needed to do. I was a bit disruptive, and it was clear I could do better if I applied myself.

What was equally clear was what mattered to me - and what didn’t. When something interested me, I focused easily, did well and found the work easy. When it didn’t, the opposite was often true.

It was in my early teenage years that I first became consciously aware that I seemed to operate differently, even if I had no idea why.

The first sign of something different.

From a young age, I was fascinated by cars and motorsport. That put engineering on the map and gave me a clear reason to focus on maths, science and design and preparing for university entrance.

In Grade 12, I chose five pre-tertiary subjects, including advanced maths, physics and chemistry. I was strongly advised against it. My parents were even called in and told it was a mistake.

But I knew why I was doing it and that I would be fine, and they backed me.

I took all five, did exceptionally well, and finished the physics curriculum just over halfway through the year.

Looking back, it was one of the first times I recognised a pattern that would repeat throughout my life: when something mattered deeply enough, focus and effort were rarely the problem - in addition subjects that were often seen as difficult felt easy.

The university unlock.

My school results surprised a few people, but university was different again.

I had my sights set on motorsport, so engineering gave me a clear sense of purpose. Subjects that interested me — particularly fluid mechanics and thermodynamics — seemed to click quickly and visually.

I had freedom, autonomy, interesting problems to solve and people I connected with. I travelled, got involved in university life and challenged systems I thought could work better.

The conditions suited me. And I thrived.

That last line is stronger than “It suited my brain well.”

Objectively hard, but easy.

During my undergraduate degree, I told myself I would never do a PhD - this was mainly fuelled by disagreements with academics. Then the right one came along.

I was offered the opportunity to undertake a PhD in aerodynamics with Rolls-Royce, the University of Tasmania and Cambridge University - directly aligned with my ambition to work in motorsport.

I had an extraordinary mentor in Professor Greg Walker, a great deal of autonomy, interesting problems to solve, travel, purpose and space to work in my own way.

Objectively, it was demanding. Subjectively, it was one of the easiest and most enjoyable periods of my life.

To this day, it remains one of the best sets of conditions I have experienced.

A change in perspective.

I first discovered Buddhism while travelling through South East Asia, but really immersed myself in it during my PhD in Cambridge.

It fundamentally recalibrated how I viewed myself and the world I was part of.

It also made me realise there would be no real fulfilment for me in a career in motorsport, regardless of how interesting it might be.

Through Buddhism I began thinking much more seriously about purpose, suffering, interdependence and what it meant to use my time and abilities in service of something beyond myself.

That shift eventually pulled me away from motorsport and towards humanitarian work - and has shaped the choices I’ve made ever since.

From empathy to action.

Working with UNHCR brought me much closer to the realities of working with people whose lives, choices and environments were shaped by forces well beyond their control.

It reinforced something I had already started to understand: good intentions are not enough. You have to listen deeply, understand the context, and design appropriate solutions with people rather than assuming you know what they need.

The work also showed me how much the conditions around us shape what is possible - and how powerful it can be when people have more agency, choice and control.

Designing with and for people.

Participatory design taught me how critical it is to deeply understand and define a problem or opportunity before jumping into solution mode.

Then, when it comes to developing solutions, the people closest to a problem or opportunity often hold the most important knowledge about it - but that knowledge is easy to miss when experts arrive with answers already formed.

I learnt to create space for people to shape the problem, not just respond to a proposed solution. To listen for what wasn’t being said. And to treat lived experience as expertise.

That fundamentally changed the way I approached design, facilitation and leadership - and became a foundation for how I work today.

Impact through design.

At BRIGHT Products, I led innovation and product development, combining participatory design, sustainability and practical engineering to create energy solutions for people living and working without reliable electricity.

In under 18 months, we tripled our product portfolio, won multiple award-winning products, and built global R&D and manufacturing partnerships across Norway, Thailand and China.

By mid-2025, more than 4.3 million BRIGHT solar products had been sold, improving energy access for more than 20 million people worldwide.

Shaping the future of engineering.

At Engineers Without Borders Australia, I led national education, research and technology development teams focused on a simple idea: engineering should work better for people.

I helped shape EWB’s human-centred approach to technology development, established Technology Development and R&D as a core organisational function, and expanded engineering education programs reaching more than 10,000 university students and 20,000 school students each year.

Alongside leading multidisciplinary teams and serving as Acting CEO, I worked with universities, communities and partners to design more inclusive, sustainable and scalable approaches to innovation.

This period reinforced how I think about design: that better outcomes rarely come from asking people to simply work harder or adapt more. They come from understanding people, context and systems — and intentionally designing the conditions around them.

From the ground up. Differently.

Building Cellular Agriculture Australia was a different kind of design challenge.

There was no established playbook - the organisation was new, the sector emerging and the policy environment still taking shape.

My role was to bring industry, researchers, government, regulators and funders together around a clearer direction, while building the relationships, narrative and structures needed for influence.

CAA grew into Australia’s national peak body for emerging food production technologies and ingredient innovation.

It further reinforced my approach but in a completely different context: understand the system through others, deeply understand the problems or opportunities, identify points of leverage, bring together great minds to find the best solutions, the points of leverage, and shape the conditions for progress.