Trading is a journey of self-discipline that dances with time. It despises impatience and rejects haste.

I have seen too many people caught in endless anxiety by every ripple on the candlestick chart. They are like diligent worker ants, building their vast yet fragile kingdoms in front of flickering screens of red and green, constantly clicking to place orders, fighting their deep-seated fear of falling behind. Those seemingly frantic figures often leave me silent—because true elimination often happens quietly, without a sound.

Effort is merely a ticket to entry; direction is the hidden navigation route. A slight deviation in perception can lead to an entirely different world. Many so-called "struggles" are just a way to numb the absence of thinking through bodily busyness. The most dangerous comfort zone is not idleness, but being "so busy that there’s no time to think"—you immerse yourself in the illusion of action, mistaking standing still for progress.

Trading itself doesn’t need to be so noisy. It’s more like a silent hunt: understanding the rhythm, perceiving the texture of trends, and reaching out precisely at critical moments. The key isn’t “participating every day,” but “participating effectively when it counts.” More often than not, we are just on the sidelines, observing and waiting, like hunters discerning the scent in the wind.

Busyness often has nothing to do with profit. In this uncertain field, silence often holds more power than movement. True preparation isn’t about the hands, but about the eyes and the mind—when you learn to replace anxiety with calmness, and impulsiveness with observation, the right direction will emerge from the chaos.

Only then will you realize: trading isn’t a battle against the market, but a peaceful reconciliation with your own nature.