The gifts of life are often not in the miracles far away, but hidden in the daily toil. Those seemingly lucky moments that fall from the sky are actually the echoes of silent accumulation and the culmination of hard work.
There are variables within the constants. We cannot choose our origins, just as we cannot change the soil beneath our feet or the rain of the seasons, but we can decide how to cultivate and what crops to plant; we may have different root systems from birth, but we always have the freedom to prune branches and focus on the main trunk. It's like playing Go, where the rules are set and the board is limited, but true players can always create endless possibilities within constraints and make moves without regret.
May we all be able to focus on rising in the game of trade, patiently waiting for flowers to bloom. Let us encourage each other.
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