Always look ahead and above yourself. Always try to improve on yourself. Always strive to elevate your craft. That's what he taught me. Once you decide on your occupation... you must immerse yourself in your work. You have to fall in love with your work. Never complain about your job. You must dedicate your life to mastering your skill. That's the secret of success... and is the key to being regarded honorably. When I was in school... I was a bad kid. Later, when I was invited to give a talk at the school, I wasn't sure if I should tell the kids that they should study hard... or that it is okay to be a rebel. I wasn't sure what advice to give the kids. Studying hard doesn't guarantee you will become a respectable person. Even if you're a bad kid... there are people like me who change. I thought that would be a good lesson to teach. But if I said that bad kids can succeed later on like I did... all the kids would start misbehaving which would be a problem. Always doing what you are told doesn't mean you'll succeed in life.

I do the same thing over and over, improving bit by bit. There is always a yearning to achieve more. I'll continue to climb, trying to reach the top, but no one knows where the top is. [on one of his fish vendors] His grandfather was known as "the god of sea eel." He was a legend. I've never met him in person, but that's what I've heard. When I was in first grade, I was told "You have no home to go back to. That's why you have to work hard." I knew that I was on my own. And I didn't want to have to sleep at the temple or under a bridge so I had to work just to survive. That has never left me. I worked even if the boss kicked or slapped me. Nowadays, parents tell their children, "You can return if it doesn't work out." When parents say stupid things like that, the kids turn out to be failures. I either buy my first choice, or I buy nothing. If ten tuna are for sale, only one can be the best. I buy that one. [describing Jiro's dedication and consistency through the years]

The difference between Jiro today and Jiro 40 years ago is only that he stopped smoking. sushi grade fish at costcoOther than that, nothing has changed.jiro dreams of sushi seattle restaurantI have been re-watching the documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi for the past couple of months. sushi san francisco hana zenI've seen it at least 10 times, probably more, while writing drafts for this article. sushi delivery london w6I've watched it alone, with my wife, with friends, and I don't tire of it; sushi miami beach zagat

I've recommended it to everyone I know, and now I'm wholeheartedly recommending it to you. sushi grade fish manchesterI have watched this film in fascination, trying to extract lessons from this master. where to buy sashimi knife in singaporeWhat have I learned from him? And what questions do these lessons open up for me? This little gem of a documentary by David Gelb takes a look at the work and life of Jiro Ono, a Michelin three-star sushi chef who, at 85 years of age, continues to work on his craft every day at his tiny restaurant in a Tokyo office building basement opposite a subway station entrance. His colleagues, his country, and at least one very knowledgeable food writer recognize him as perhaps the greatest sushi chef alive.What lessons have I learned from him?"Once you decide on your occupation," says Jiro, "you must immerse yourself in your work.

That's the secret of success and is the key to being regarded honorably." Jiro himself is enormously happy with his work; he is a blissful craftsman who truly enjoys his work, which keeps him vital in his old age.However, it's crucial to note that he doesn't say "find work that you love," as if suggesting one goes on some romantic quest in search for the perfect job, but rather he tells us to love the work we have chosen.This means to consciously and voluntarily cultivate love, much like we do in a marriage. This is different from a teenage crush whereby one gets struck in the head by a random force and goes temporarily mad, only to wake up to disillusioned weeks or months later. Jiro's path to joyful work requires a lifetime of devotion. This brings to mind a more common conception of work some of us have: We tend to categorize jobs as being either "passion work" or "work just for the money." Then we tell ourselves that passion work is a pipe dream and we must endure a lifetime of mindless toil until the day we retire and begin to enjoy life.

What would happen, I wonder, if we consciously and purposefully loved the jobs we feel condemned to do "just for the money"? Could this perhaps completely revolutionize our relationship with work, increase our quality of life, and diminish our hunger for retirement?Sushi is by definition a minimalist food, and Jiro has taken this simplicity to another level, not only in his sushi-making technique, but also in the composition of his menu. Unlike other restaurants of its kind, Jiro's does not serve appetizers. Rather, they create a daily menu of about 20 pieces of sushi per person. He serves sushi only, and no other dishes. Moreover, his restaurant has only 10 seats. This allows the staff to focus on preparing top-quality sushi and serving each client the best possible way, noticing little details like how much they eat or if they are right- or left-handed.Jiro's eldest son, Yoshikazu, who is a sushi chef in his own right but still works with his father as the heir apparent, says that at the restaurant they try to repeat the same thing every day.

What's left implied is that mastery results from this constant repetition.This focus goes beyond the confines of work: Jiro repeats the same routine every day, down to standing on the same spot to take the train. He dislikes holidays and wants to return to work as soon as possible. It seems to me that Jiro increases his creativity by going deep, rather than wide—start with an automatic daily routine, pursue a narrow focus at work, and within that narrow focus, the combination of talent and hard work open up a universe for creative exploration.This reminds me of that mad genius William Blake, who wrote in "Auguries of Innocence":To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour.With happiness like that, who needs vacations?If we stick for a moment with the "passion work" scenario I mentioned earlier, I notice that some people tend to assume that doing work you love is free of difficulties and that everything will be well in your life if you just switch careers.

Doing work you love may cost you dearly, especially in the initial stages, and everyone choosing such a path should be willing to pay the price of admission. In my case, pursuing studies in the humanities and striking out on my own instead of finding a place in academia meant I have to work longer hours and make less money compared with people working in established organizations and with perhaps fewer years of education.I have made peace with that fact because I am doing work that I love, but the trade-off is evident. Today I aim to increase my income to a more comfortable level by cultivating focus and honing my skills, but it's a steep climb. Still, this was a conscious choice that I do not regret. I know this may seem to contradict a little bit what I said earlier about loving the work you've chosen, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that loving your work can at times be difficult, but if you persevere you will find yourself rewarded for it.In the case of Jiro, the demands of his job kept him away from his family while his children were growing up.

He also had to struggle against poverty; when he got married he had no money in the bank, and years later his kids had to save for months before they could afford a Coca-Cola. Things have changed today, Jiro shares a good relationship with his children, who learned their craft from their father, but it took years of sacrifice and hard work to get there. Jiro himself had to endure being slapped or kicked during his learning years, but he didn't quit. He's had apprentices, however, who only lasted a day in his kitchen.The point of this, to me, is that the kind of bliss Jiro finds in his daily work can't be achieved through quick solutions and four-hour workweeks. It takes hard, intense, concentrated, and often painful work. Dream jobs don't simply work their magic because you find them; they do because you marry them for life and they reward you for your efforts as years go by.I am not suggesting, of course, that citizens of 21st-century Western democracies with different cultural prejudices put up with unfair or unsafe work conditions, but Jiro's tale is a reminder that love and sacrifice can reward us in transcendental ways that cannot be reduced to quick formulas for easy success.