Excellence begins where obligation ends; when you do something not because you have to, but because you want to make it right. — Nuniek Tirta Sari
This morning was the parents-and-teacher meeting day for my eldest. Yes, even though she’s already in college, there’s still a version of PTM, because she’s taking private tutoring alongside her university courses. So there we were, sitting with her tutor as he explained what courses she’s taken, how her grades improved significantly, and what’s coming up for her last two terms before graduation.
After that, we met with her academic advisor to discuss her next step, applying to her dream university abroad. She already has her heart set on a particular campus and a very specific major. We even attended their open house months ago, so everything is laser-focused now. The only thing left is perfecting her portfolio. I’ll share more about it when the time comes, but for now, let’s just say: please send your prayers for her smooth journey to that dream school next year.
When we came home, my daughter reheated lunch and set the table, while my husband and I squeezed in some quick work. Then we ate together, chatting about random things. Before we went back to our own routines, we took a moment to review her personal statement for the university application. “I did it without AI!” she said, stopping her dad just as he was about to run it through ChatGPT for a little polish 😂
By 2 p.m., our Cleansheet ranger arrived. He’s honestly one of the best we’ve ever had. Fast, thorough, detail-oriented, and even cleans things we didn’t ask him to. My husband was impressed by his work from the first time, so he specifically request him for both of our properties. Somehow it reminded me of last Sunday’s sermon when the pastor said, “Excellence is inspiring." Even when what you do seems small, your excellence makes a big impact. I think we often underestimate the power of doing small things well.
It also reminded me of a quote from Naval Ravikant:
Know the basics. To become an authority in anything, you have to understand its foundational truths.
When I read that line yesterday, I instantly remember how my husband trained everyone how to put things right in dishwasher. He always said something like:
First we must understand how the water flows: it comes from the center. So if you put things the wrong way, the water can’t reach them properly, and they’ll still come out dirty.
That's my man. He finds satisfaction in understanding how things work and doing them the right way. He learns its foundations, finds the most effective way, and as a result, delivers the best outcome. I think that’s the real secret of excellence:
It's not the impressive outcome everyone notices, but the invisible part: understanding the basics so deeply that everything you do flows naturally from that understanding.
When I think about it, I can safely say that people who consistently perform at an excellent level tend to share three traits: curiosity, conscientiousness, and consistency.
Curiosity makes them dig deeper instead of settling for surface-level knowledge.
Conscientiousness keeps them attentive to detail.
Consistency turns small habits into mastery.
So, it’s not about talent. It’s about attitude. And this attitude shows up everywhere.
This young man in Enchanting Valley who, when my husband asked where the trash bin was, offered to take the trash himself, and then actually walked quite a distance to throw it away. Yes we still remember it, although it was already months ago (17 July 2025, to be exact).
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| Posted without consent 😅 But he deserved to be noticed. |
Those people teach us that excellence doesn’t come from grand gestures. It comes from an inner decision to care.
There’s a Japanese concept called kodawari: a personal pursuit of perfection, not to impress others, but because it’s deeply satisfying to do something well. A sushi chef may spend years just mastering how to slice fish at the perfect angle. A tea master may rehearse the same graceful motion thousands of times. Not for applause, but because doing something with excellence feels right.
In a culture that rewards speed and shortcuts, excellence becomes an act of rebellion. It’s saying, “I’ll take my time to do it right.” It’s being the kind of person who wipes the table not because it’s dirty, but because clean just feels better. And maybe that’s what our world quietly craves: people who still care enough to give their best, even when no one is watching. Your excellence might be someone else’s turning point.
Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.
That’s what my husband does with his dishwasher logic. That’s what our cleaner does with his vacuum cleaner. And that’s what I want to keep learning too: to know better, then do better.