What Role Are You Playing in the Story of Your Life?

Act 1: The Dreamer

"All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players..." – As You Like It

I remember a time when I felt that life was nothing more than a series of acts—each one more difficult than the last, yet each shaping me into who I am today. As a child, my world was simple, the boundaries clear. My dreams, though innocent, were vast. But those dreams, like many others, were not born from a place of security. They came from a longing to escape, to make sense of a chaotic world that I could not quite control.

I was born in a world where I felt small, where problems seemed too large to tackle. And yet, in the midst of it all, I discovered something powerful. When I looked at the world, I didn’t see it as it was; I saw it as it could be. I created stories. I gave names to objects, and in doing so, I played with them. This was my way of coping—of transforming the mundane into something meaningful, something I could handle. I didn’t have the power to change the world, but I could create a world within my mind where anything was possible.

As Shakespeare said, we all play many parts. For me, my first part was that of the dreamer—the one who looked at the impossible and said, “I will try.” But what does it mean to play that role? What stories do we choose to tell when we step onto this stage?

Act 2: The Awakening

And if the story is at the heart of the play, what kind of stories might you tell? Perhaps just as important, what kind of stories inspired this strange play in the first place?

For me, the transition from dreamer to doer wasn’t an easy one. I moved from the structured world of science into the creative world of art, where logic and order were replaced with metaphors and imagination. The challenge was daunting. I was trained in a science high school, where I learned about molecules that build us—an understanding of the world that was precise, concrete, and real.

Yet, when I entered art university, I found a new power. I realized that the knowledge I gained from science wasn’t a limitation; it was a tool. A skill that allowed me to critically analyze and empathize with the struggles of others. I could now see problems not just as obstacles, but as puzzles—puzzles that I could solve with design. I wasn’t just drawing or making things. I was telling stories, trying to make sense of the world, creating meaning from chaos.

As an art director, I wanted to empower brands to do the same—to see beyond the product and into the struggles of the people they serve. But, I found that many brands were more interested in selling than solving. I wanted to change that, but I also had to confront the truth: creating change was harder than it seemed. Yet, even when my efforts felt small, I kept asking myself: If the story is at the heart of the play, what kind of stories might I tell?

Act 3: The purpose

As I dug deeper into my quest to make an impact, I asked myself: What are the biggest problems in the world? Where can I use my story and skills to make a real difference?

It was then that I turned to energy consumption—an issue that I realized had far-reaching consequences. This was not just about oil and gas; it was about the future of our planet. I joined a leading oil and gas magazine, where I learned about the industry from the ground up. I got my hands dirty—literally—learning the ins and outs of oil extraction and its impact on the environment. It was here that I realized the importance of shifting focus from exploitation to sustainability.

When the magazine rebranded to The Energy Year and shifted its focus to renewable energy, I was ready. I took the magazine’s design and turned it upside down—literally. The color code shifted from red to green, and I infused every page with the hope of a cleaner, more sustainable future. It felt like the dream I had once envisioned was now within reach.

But my story didn’t stop there. I asked myself again: What is the second biggest problem? It became clear that education, especially for underserved children, was the next battleground. I partnered with Twin Science and Robotics, an organization dedicated to bringing ed-tech to the most remote corners of the world. We designed technology that empowered children to solve local problems, from irrigation systems to assistive technology for the disabled. Watching these children innovate was a moment of triumph. It was a step closer to my dream of creating a system that not only saw the struggles of people but also worked to solve them.

Act 4: The Struggle

Yet, despite the victories, I couldn’t escape the sense that something was still missing. My story felt incomplete. I left my home in Turkey, full of hope, and landed in Canada—a land of new beginnings. I had always seen Canada as a place where people were kinder, more resilient. But when I arrived, I found myself lost in the vastness of possibility. I had no audience, no one to share my story with. My CV was sent out time and time again, but each door seemed to close without a sound.

In this new land, I was left to ask myself again: If the story is at the heart of the play, what kind of stories do I have left to tell?

In this strange, distant land, I found myself at a crossroads. My dreams seemed as distant as the land itself, and I had to remind myself: "We are such stuff as dreams are made on..." But even dreams, as Shakespeare reminds us, are fleeting. They fade, like the light of day, unless we breathe life back into them.

Act 5: The Never-Give-Up

And so, I keep going. I keep searching for the right stage, the right story, the right audience. I have learned that resilience is not just about pushing forward—it’s about understanding the story we’re living and knowing that even when the act ends, a new one begins.