At 100 years old, Jiro Ono stands behind the sushi counter in his ten-seat basement restaurant in Tokyo’s Ginza district, doing what he’s done for decades: seeking perfection. “I cherish my life, and I aim for 114,” he declares—not as wishful thinking, but as intentional purpose. That forward-looking goal at 100 reveals everything: he’s not reminiscing about past achievements. He’s planning his next fourteen years.

Sukiyabashi Jiro Restaurant earned three Michelin stars, making Jiro the first sushi chef to achieve this distinction. But the accolades aren’t what keep him working. “The secret to my health is to work,” he says. “That is the best medicine.”

But how does work become medicine? For Jiro, it’s the daily immersion in craft—the precise temperature of rice, the perfect cut of fish, the rhythm of repetition that creates excellence. “I do the same thing over and over, improving bit by bit,” he explains. “There is always a yearning to achieve more.” It’s not the work itself; it’s the perpetual challenge, the problem-solving, the small victories of getting today’s sushi closer to perfect than yesterday’s.

And crucially, it’s the human connection. Every day, Jiro serves guests across that counter, shares his craft with family and apprentices, and engages with suppliers who’ve known him for decades. Work isn’t solitary striving—it’s relationship, contribution, relevance.

Jiro is one of 100,000 centenarians in Japan, part of a culture that hasn’t bought into the Western narrative that age means obsolescence and retirement. Instead, he embodies what the Japanese call shokunin—the relentless pursuit of perfection in one’s craft.

This is what legend means as we mature: not romanticizing the past, but creating the future. “Once you decide on your occupation, you must immerse yourself in your work,” Jiro says. “You have to fall in love with your work. Never complain about your job. You must dedicate your life to mastering your skill.”

In that basement restaurant, Jiro proves what maturing people fear to believe: you don’t lose value with age. You become vintage—better, deeper, more refined. Your decades of experience aren’t baggage; they’re expertise that can’t be Googled, wisdom that can’t be rushed.

At 100, aiming for 114, Jiro demonstrates that maturity isn’t about stepping aside—it’s about stepping fully into who you’ve become. You’re not done. You’re not finished. Like Jiro, you’re just hitting your stride.

Thanks – Michael (he, him)

Please share this Daily with your tribes.
This also matters – Ageing: Rewriting the Rules.

#2147