Amid Streams, One Runs Clear.

Above all, my heart lingers on that one stream among many. Though it never reaches the ocean, as she once dreamed, it still carries within it the majesty of a great river: in its rapids, fierce enough to sweep away what is fleeting; in its still waters, ancient and unfathomable, holding secrets in their depth.

As one of the book’s earliest readers (so I believe), I moved through its pages quickly, compelled to share it with friends and colleagues in the profession. One senior colleague—who had twice tried, in vain, to break free from the industry—told me: “Share it with as many young people as you can. Let them see more clearly, and release themselves from illusions about this profession.” I couldn’t help but smile. Illusions are everywhere, after all—especially in an age of surfaces, where we live within the glossy facades of face-books, sustaining the illusion of creating an entirely new world.

The book itself is formidable: over four hundred pages devoted to the craft, like a river in full flood—immense in energy, sweeping aside the pebbles of superficiality, cutting through the blemishes of the industry, surging ever onward with determination and vision.

And yet, it was the final thirty-three pages that stayed with me most profoundly. For even the most seasoned warrior—brave and strategic in battle—when brushed by the shadow of death, finds their armor crumbling into ash. We are human, in every noble and fragile sense of the word. Before the towering waves of destiny, sometimes release is the only way to endure. To yield to the current can also be a return—to the original flow, the source within.

On rereading, as I closed and reopened its pages, one truth grew clear: life, like a river, bends and forks, doubles back and meanders. And even if it never reaches the open sea, its winding journey can still purify—sifting away the sediment, leaving behind clarity and renewal. Renewal for oneself. Renewal for life.