All too often with reviews, the film is fresh in the reviewers mind. For this, I want to explore how a piece of work has influence, long after watching it. I haven’t seen Jiro Dreams of Sushi in over a year and things still have an impact on me today. It’s my favorite documentary.

When Jiro first came out, I was excited to see it. But like with most docs, it was in some obscure theater on the other side of town. It became “I want to see it, but it’s not worth to drive all that way.” The interest was on par with “when I can” versus “will sacrifice a goat.” Upon its arrival on Netflix, it was the first thing I watched.

Then I watched it again, and again. For a few solid weeks, I watched this sushi chef describe his technique and his approach. Each time, I picked up on more details. Each time, I became more fascinated by this world. And each time, it became more of a meditation than a viewing. There was something about Jiro’s simplicity of vision that grabbed me: being the best sushi chef.

Jiro is a man who is dedicated to his craft. Tirelessly repeating routine, he improves on method and taste with small but significant steps. He’s reserved and observant. He analyzes how each customer reacts to each serving. There’s a quiet rage about him. Despite his seemingly stern demeanor while he cooks, he loves what he does. His focus at work hides his laughter in off-hours.

He’s willing to dedicate his life to the pursuit of perfection. Even at his age with his experience, he’s still experimenting. He’s still finding new ways. To have that commitment is freeing. He discovered his “what” in life and is now going wild with the “how.”

This perspective has stuck with me to this very day. Be happy with work. Dedicate your life to your craft. Dream big. Work hard, then work harder. Enjoy the rewards then continue to push the limits. At the intersection of passion, hard work, talent, and luck, comes purpose.

I never realized so much thought, preparation, and time can go into making sushi. To that end, I’ve tried to import that same approach into my own life: hunting the small details that might yield the greatest results. Too often, people overlook nuance. “Ring out the sponge.” Exhaust all creative options to find the best idea. I like it when I’m surprised by something. It keeps the process moving in an enlightening direction.

But, it’s hard to find that “thing” that satisfies all aspects of life. Some are lucky. Others have to work at it just to be able to do that “thing.” If you ever find yourself with doubt, ask yourself, “Why not?”

In the end, it all comes down to happiness for the life of a craftsman.