The Crossroads

Thirty days from today, I will celebrate my birthday.

It also feels like I am standing at a crossroads.

One path leads toward my own Mount Everest. It is a difficult climb, driven by the hope that one day my work will outlive me. If I reach the summit, perhaps my name will be remembered. If I fail, my efforts may disappear beneath the snow of time, forgotten like the countless dreams history never records.

The other path reminds me of Laozi.

According to tradition, Laozi served as the keeper of the royal archives during the Zhou dynasty. As he watched the court sink into political intrigue and moral decline, he quietly resigned. Riding a water buffalo toward the western frontier, he intended to disappear into a life of solitude.

At the Hangu Pass, the gatekeeper Yinxi recognized the old master and refused to let him leave until he had written down his wisdom. Laozi agreed. He wrote a brief manuscript of about 5,000 Chinese characters, handed it over, crossed the border, and was never seen again.

That manuscript became the Dao De Jing, one of the most influential books ever written.

Laozi did not chase fame. He chose peace.

Sam Choo is no Laozi.

I still feel the pull to build, to write, to teach, and to leave behind something that helps ordinary people tell their stories. Yet another part of me longs for a quieter life, free from the endless race for recognition.

Perhaps the real question is not whether to climb the mountain or walk away from it.

Perhaps the question is this:

What kind of life will I be proud to have lived when my journey is over?