There Are Two Kinds of Mentors. Only One Helps You Grow.

I’ve always believed in having as many mentors as possible. Especially in your early twenties — when you're just beginning to learn how the world works — the quality and variety of people you surround yourself with can dramatically shape your trajectory. Through conversations, observations, and the simple act of being around those who’ve gone ahead, you can absorb decades of wisdom as if it were your own.

But not every accomplished person deserves to be a mentor. Just because someone is older, more successful, or widely respected doesn’t mean they’re the right guide for you. Every person’s path is shaped by their own background, beliefs, and context — and not all of those are aligned with yours.

That’s why I think we need to be intentional when choosing our mentors — especially when we're young and still forming our identity. You can't let just anyone into that inner circle. You need your own clear, consistent standards. I was lucky enough to discover mine relatively early. Perhaps part of it was timing or luck, but I’d say it mostly came from a restless desire to grow and a deep curiosity about people.

I also believe the criteria for mentors should evolve with age. If your twenties are a decade of bold experiments, your thirties are for building foundations, and your forties for giving back — then different mentors are needed at each stage. All wisdom is valuable, but it becomes truly powerful when delivered at the right time.

Right now, I’m in my early twenties. This is my season for dreaming big and charging forward. I want mentors who challenge me to think boldly, act bravely, and live deliberately. I want to collide with the world — not tiptoe through it — and I need people around me who encourage that.

To make this decade count, I’ve been actively talking to people, listening deeply, and trying to find the mentors whose values align with mine. Through that process, I’ve come to see a clear distinction — a split between two types of adults who engage with young people like me.

The first type plants something greater in you. When I open up about my questions, my ambitions, or my philosophy of life, these people don’t dismiss or dilute them. They listen carefully, read between the lines, and somehow see a version of me that even I didn’t fully believe in yet. Their presence stretches my imagination and sharpens my sense of purpose.

One franchise founder and venture capitalist I met right after high school helped me think like a global entrepreneur. A chance meeting with a politician on a trip abroad reignited a dream I had shelved as a kid — a dream of one day leading a nation. These conversations didn’t just inspire me. They rewired the way I think. They made my dreams feel less like fantasies and more like blueprints.

These are the mentors who push you toward the next frontier — the ones who make you feel like life is bigger than what you see now. Through them, my vision keeps expanding, and I keep growing into it.

But then there’s the second type — the ones who, whether consciously or not, hold you in place. When I share my ambitions with them, I often hear things like: “Just enjoy being in your twenties.” They advise me to be realistic, to slow down, to live a little. And maybe there’s some comfort in that. But to me, that message feels misplaced.

Because what does it even mean to “just live like a 20-something”? Is it about taking things easy? Not thinking too far ahead? Enjoying the present moment? If so, I understand the intent. For some, that might be the right approach — especially for those who need to heal, catch their breath, or reconnect with life’s simpler joys.

But for someone like me, that message can feel stifling. My twenties aren’t a time to float — they’re a time to dive deep, to risk failure, to test the boundaries of who I might become. I’m not trying to skip the present. I’m just trying to live it as fully and fiercely as I can.

That doesn’t make the second group wrong. Their perspective is rooted in their own journey, their own hard-earned lessons. It’s just not mine. Not right now. I don’t feel ready to stand still — not when there’s so much to chase.

So I’m choosing the first group — the mentors who raise the ceiling, not reinforce the floor. And fortunately, I’ve found a few already. As time passes, my dreams are crystallizing. The hazy outlines of possibility are turning into real, tangible goals. The best way to predict the future is to build it — and I am.

I see the same pattern in the friends I keep close. We aren’t drawn to the phrase “you only live once, so enjoy it.” Instead, we resonate more with: “you only live once, so make it count.” We talk about impact. We talk about legacy. We talk about building something that lasts.

These people — my mentors and my peers — are co-architects of my journey. Wherever it leads, I’ll look back on these years with pride. And quietly, I hope these relationships don’t end with this decade. I hope they endure — through the changes, the seasons, and the long road ahead.

If someone out there is dreaming of something more, I hope this essay offers a simple compass: pay attention to who’s walking beside you. Because in the end, choosing your mentors is another way of choosing your life.