I wasn’t sure what to expect. I could barely believe that I was going to see him again. I had changed. I’m sure he had changed. I mean, we hadn’t seen each other in forever.

Maybe it’d be awkward. Maybe the conversation wouldn’t flow. Maybe it’d be a mistake.

Should I really be going to see him again?

I met him in Argentina two years ago. It was two weeks in to my year around the world. So, naturally, I was at the most popular dance club in the small city of Cordoba. …

“Average pace: 11 minutes, 4 seconds.”

The running app in my ear let me know that I was slowing down. I switched to a podcast to take my mind off the 5 miles I planned to conquer.

Between quotes from a divorced father who found creative ways to stay present in his son’s life, I heard my feet thumping on the dirt path along the riverside.

I thought I was alone, but another set of thumps followed right behind me.

Wanting to keep up, wanting to win, I picked up my pace.

“Average pace: 10 minutes, 14 seconds.”

I continued…

It’s the night before the big day — you’ve revised your resume 503-thousand times, you’ve attached it to a bunch of application websites that you never hear back from. But this one you did hear back from sounds promising and your future is riding on a single interview.

No pressure or anything.

What are you going to wear?
What’s your elevator pitch?
What’s the name of your interviewer?
Do they like golf?

Why are interviews so stressful?

It wouldn’t have anything to do to with fact that you’re being put on the spot and grilled for an hour, would it…

I remember a time

When I traveled the world.

When I didn’t care about how I looked,

Or what they thought, or who I should be.

When all that mattered was who I was,

And authentically pursuing who I wanted to be.

I remember when I’d smile freely.

And say hi to strangers I’d pass on the street.

When kindness was more valuable than paper currency.

And time was better spent in the presence of good company.

I remember what it feels like to not know tomorrow.

Next week.

Next month.

Or what the next year holds.

And being okay…

Meet Cynthia Salim, Founder & CEO of Citizen’s Mark.

She’s on a mission to empower professional women. Blending her passion for sustainability with an opportunity she saw in the market, she is transforming the clothing industry for women who work.

Read on to get the inside scoop on her journey.

BONUS: There’s a special offer at the end — limited time only.

Let’s get personal. Who are you beyond Founder & CEO of a successful company?

I identify as a third culture kid, which means I grew up across cultures. I moved to LA from Indonesia when I was 5, then spent an awkward three years between the ages of 8 and 11 in Indonesia again as an “invisible migrant.”

It has really…

She was in her own world.

Captivated by her own 3-year-old fascinations. Looking through the books, munching on her snacks, preoccupied by wonder.

Just a row behind, he almost fell over, teetering on the highest tips of his toes. Only tall enough to be able to peer over the back of the chair, he went unnoticed.

He stared on, while she had no idea he existed.

After a concentrated effort, he gave up. She’d never see him, even though he saw her completely.

Defeated, he laid down on the bench. His legs kicked restlessly.

To mute the disturbance, his sister scooped him up. And suddenly, he was in full view.

The little girl looked back and their eyes met.

She gazed at him in a…

When “home” is no longer defined as just a physical place.

When you say “I’m home,” what do you really mean?

Are you talking about the building that houses all of your belongings? The place where you belong?…

I used to consider “home” the apartment I went back to after school every day. But growing up with a dad in the military meant that my home changed every few years.

The city changed, the apartment changed, the school changed, and friends changed.

When something typically permanent, changed as frequently as it did for me, I never felt completely at home — I never felt like I belonged.

So, I continued…

If you’re like me, you’ve probably considered yourself business-minded for a while.

And maybe we have similar stories:

At the age of 4, I rode my tricycle down the street every week to pick up the golf balls that had been hit outside of the gate. After hoarding an impressive collection, I sold them at my parents’ next monthly garage sale for $20.

In high school, I was re-elected President of the Future Business Leaders of America for 2 consecutive years, during which I ran the school’s student store and found new ways to make money for our club. …