The Spark Behind My Research

This journey didn’t begin overnight. It has been unfolding over decades—sparked initially by conversations with former distributors who encouraged me to revisit and deepen the findings I had collected along the way. While I try not to repeat what’s already shared on hugoaristides.com, I want to reflect on a few key moments that have shaped this path.

It began back in 1997, during my university years, when I wrote my graduate thesis on socially responsible investing. I was also serving as a teaching assistant in Corporate Finance, which gave me a close-up view of how value systems intersect with capital. These experiences became the foundation for my interest in finance beyond numbers—for something more human-centered.

Not long after, I joined Skandia, a Swedish financial services firm known for its commitment to human capital and learning. There, I worked within Skandia University, a program that allowed us to travel globally, researching how corporate universities operated and how education could be a tool for transforming client experience. These insights planted the seeds of innovation—lessons I would revisit many times in later ventures.

My research interests evolved into family financial planning, with a growing emphasis on retirement. One book, Transiciones, became central to my reflections on financial life cycles. At the same time, I was teaching Modern Leadership in MBA programs across Latin America. I encouraged students to explore leadership not just as a theory but as an experience. In teams, they designed ambitious projects—including interviewing political and business leaders in Colombia and even organizing a live university symposium with presidential candidates. That experiential style of learning left a deep mark on me and opened the door to further inquiry.

Later, I launched FinancialGym, a platform that worked with institutions like the Colombia Stock Exchange and multinational corporations to promote financial literacy among employees. When the 2008 financial crisis hit and I was laid off, I pivoted into neuroeconomics research. I started a speaker series and led investor education workshops to explore how the brain shapes financial decisions. On weekends, I facilitated Excel-based planning sessions for families—small acts of empowerment that combined data with human behavior.

After moving to the U.S., my curiosity deepened. I began studying psychology to better understand why so many people—even high earners—lived paycheck to paycheck. I explored The Addictive Brain by Thad A. Polk and The Psychology of Human Behavior by David W. Martin. Slowly, I realized this wasn’t just academic—it was personal. I was seeking answers about myself.

That search eventually led to my first eBook, La Bicicleta Financiera, which explores how families can shift from financial survival to self-driven growth. During that time, books like The Murder of the Middle Class by Wayne Allyn Root and The Lean Startup by Eric Ries shaped my thinking about adaptability and resilience—concepts that quietly mirrored my own reinventions.

Life, however, had its own curriculum. Personal challenges pushed me closer to faith. At one corporate event, we were asked to read On Fire by John O’Leary—and he appeared in person. What I witnessed was powerful: colleagues opening their hearts, some crying silently. That experience shifted something in me and made me more curious about the emotional and spiritual dimensions of human growth.

Soon after, I read Finding Peace by Troy L. Love and Love and Respect by Dr. Emerson Eggerichs. These books became companions in my emotional development. Therapists and coaches along the way introduced me to more tools—and more questions.

After my mother passed away, one of my brothers sent me the documentary HEAL, and while looking through her bookshelf, I found Wake Up by Father Anthony de Mello. That book cracked something open. I found myself drawn to Catholic mystics and other authors who, while not always officially embraced by doctrine, offered deep spiritual insights. I wrestled with that—figures like Father Teilhard de Chardin, once silenced by the Church, only to be later quoted by Pope Francis. Still, I trusted the journey.

While struggling with grief, I tried to keep momentum going on the Bicifi App, though it felt uphill. I was reading about the Kübler-Ross model on grief and Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning when I was invited to take part in transformational workshops in the Colombian mountains. The first one, PSP, explored our early relationships and internal conditioning through meditation, dance, and dialogue. These programs were inspired by the work of Dr. Claudio Naranjo, whose teachings deeply influenced me.

I attended a second workshop based on Naranjo’s extensions of the Gurdjieff and Ichazo frameworks, and was introduced to sacred practices, including tobacco as a ritual. I couldn’t help but reflect on how I had dismissed such practices in the past—perhaps out of fear or lack of understanding. Now, I was open.

That openness led me to Lise Bourbeau’s Heal Your Wounds and Find Your True Self, which helped connect many dots. I wondered: why hadn’t I been taught any of this in all my years of Catholic schooling? Books like The Physics of God by Amit Goswami and Feeding Your Demons by Tsultrim Allione drew me further into exploring the relationship between science, faith, and shadow work. To balance that, I enrolled in a contemplative prayer course and discovered Biography of the Light by Father Pablo d’Ors—a masterful reflection on interior life.

At the time, I had joined a Catholic group in Boca Raton called Emaús Brothers. Some of the men began referring others to me for conversations when they were going through life’s storms. I wasn’t looking for that, but I showed up—and perhaps that was enough.

Looking back, I now feel that much of this has been quietly orchestrated by a greater force. A kind of wind, invisible but real, has moved me across paths, books, and people. One day, a cousin gave me the film Finding Joe, based on Joseph Campbell’s work. And piece by piece, each encounter added clarity to the mosaic. Not total clarity—but enough to keep walking.

Eventually, I began facilitating contemplative prayer sessions in South Florida. To deepen my spiritual formation, I studied The Interior Castle by Saint Teresa of Ávila. That work—dense and rich—helped me recognize the nature of shadows and the return to inner light.

When It Didn’t Start With You by Mark Wolynn landed in my hands (both from my wife and again from my brother), I started to understand how much of what we carry is generational. Patterns flow through families like rivers—with turns, cascades, and still waters.

Trying to ground all this in everyday life, I began studying Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) through the University of Massachusetts, eventually entering the teacher training pathway. It felt like the right time to integrate the outer research with the inner one.

Now, I’ve stepped back a bit from new reading. I feel full. Almost overfed. Like I’ve been drinking from a firehose for too long. I need to write. Writing is a way to process. Sharing is a way to live, to expand—and to shine.

I am nothing if I don’t help others shine, beginning with myself, my family, my teams, my clients… and even my breath.

I’ve read many authors, but a few have become cornerstones of my thought. They shape the framework I now propose through hugoaristides.com.

I know it might sound bold to say I’ve been “researching” just by reading books—but this has been a personal research. If it helps even one person reconnect with their own path, then it has already fulfilled its purpose. What started for me has become, inevitably, something for others.