The central idea Mario Alonso Puig has shared for years suggests that life does not move in a straight line and that turning points often arise from our mistakes. This is not a motivational slogan but the distilled outcome of a professional and human journey. A physician and surgeon by training, a writer and speaker by vocation, Puig has rigorously explored the intersection of science, consciousness, and human potential. His story does not begin on a stage or a printed page, but in the operating room and the clinic, where he learned that uncertainty, pressure, and the need to decide with incomplete information are part of the trade and, by extension, of life itself.

From that clinical trench he began to discern a pattern: error is not merely a flaw to correct but a datum that reorients; the break in an expectation opens a map of alternatives that previously remained unseen. In recounting his path, he describes how the technical demands of surgery coexist with the mind’s plasticity: what a person notices, interprets, and remembers shapes the quality of their decisions. In this dialogue between medical precision and observation of human experience, he consolidated his thesis: critical moments, far from being definitive threats, can become levers for growth when read with clarity and integrated with discipline.

His public work has been the natural extension of this understanding. There he lays out concepts that, in clinical practice, unfold in real time: stress management as a resource for maintaining clarity; attention as an instrument to distinguish the urgent from the important; and the inner narrative as a frame that widens or narrows the range of available responses. He does not promise shortcuts; he proposes mental and emotional training to stay the course when the environment shifts, or the first strategy fails.

This notion speaks directly to the realities of entrepreneurs, owners of SMEs, shopkeepers, salespeople, and university students.

The entrepreneur who bets on a product and discovers that the market does not respond as expected reaches a turning point: the silence can be read as a verdict or as a signal to iterate. In Puig’s view, learning does not happen through the accumulation of victories but through the integration of stumbles: the task is to turn each failure into actionable information.

For the SME owner, that pivot may mean reviewing processes that “have always been done this way,” accepting that growth demands new controls, or recognizing that margins require renegotiating with suppliers. The shopkeeper who sees customer traffic drop finds in the mistake an ill-suited assortment, a muddled message the beginning of a reconfiguration. And the salesperson whose pipeline goes cold understands, from this perspective, that a client’s objection is not a wall but a map of unmet needs. Even the university student facing exams or projects, changes of major or faltering internships, finds in error a compass for adjusting study methods, interpersonal skills, and professional expectations.

At the heart of this proposal lies a sober confidence in human resilience. It is not about resisting by inertia but about recomposing one’s focus after the impact. Puig emphasizes the intimate link between inner state and outer performance: the quality of attention and of one’s inner dialogue influences creativity, decision-making, and collaboration.

This relationship, often described with support from scientific findings, translates into habits: breathing to regain perspective; asking questions that open options; rehearsing scenarios before acting; practicing gratitude to balance the negativity bias; and, above all, reviewing what went wrong without guilt.

The life-essay he proposes does not evade the hardness of error; it incorporates it. When a plan fails, the temptation is to blame external factors or one’s own shortcomings. His approach, by contrast, invites inquiry: What new information does this outcome give me? Which part of the process needs redesign? Which assumptions have become obsolete? Such questions, rather than propping up self-esteem, sustain continuous improvement. And here the practical value for any economic activity becomes clear: each cycle of testing, failure, and adjustment shortens the time between an idea and its fit with reality.

By sharing his own experiences and those of others, Puig turns abstract concepts into stories with a beginning, conflict, and resolution. For the intended audience, this narrative mode eases transfer: the person leading a small team recognizes, in a clinical case, the same tension of choosing under pressure; the door-to-door seller sees in a patient’s recovery a metaphor for consistent follow-up; the student realizes that passing an exam is not “luck,” but the invisible preparation that matures with each attempt.

None of these lessons replace technical competence. Rather, they amplify it.

Entrepreneurship requires numbers, margins, and logistics; leading people demands processes and metrics; studying calls for method.

But in Mario Alonso Puig’s view, what turns those resources into sustainable results is the quality of the mind that applies them: a mind able to learn from error, to sustain curiosity when the immediate answer is “no,” and to remain calm when the context exerts pressure.

Thus, his notion that life is not linear and that errors mark turning points sums up an ethic of work and learning: to advance is to iterate, and iteration is fueled by friction with reality. For those launching a project, running an SME, working behind a counter, living by sales, or pursuing a university degree, this ethic is not decorative; it is a method. A method that begins where perfect explanations end: in the imperfect terrain of trial, error, and correction. There, Puig contends, is where consciousness becomes practice, science becomes a tool, and human potential takes form.