Hidden Springs of Power

Nikki Callahan

Alright, welcome back to Reflections Unfiltered. Today’s topic feels a bit like stepping onto unfamiliar mat—one where silence and patience might say more than any punch you could throw. We’re exploring the way China handles power—its deep, slow roots—versus the West’s deal-making drumbeat. John, Eden, good to see you both peering into the mist with me.

John Harvey

Glad to be here. It’s funny, Nikki—you talk about patience and roots, and all I can picture is the absolute contrast I saw on every diplomatic stage over the past few decades. America, especially during the Trump years, came in fast. Bold. If there wasn’t a handshake and a headline by the end of the day, it was deemed a loss. Everything became transactional—like closing a real estate deal and then moving on. But China, they’re measuring in dynasties and playing across centuries.

Eden Valen

It’s almost an aesthetic difference, isn’t it? America wants the fluorescent lights, the bustling trading floor, the ‘art of the deal’ dramatics. China, meanwhile, prefers the twilight—quiet, ambiguous. A move you don’t see until, suddenly, the terrain tilts in their favor. It’s Daoist, almost poetic, this notion of waiting until the water carves the rock.

Nikki Callahan

That reminds me of something my karate instructor used to do. He’d teach with this big, booming presence—make every move obvious, almost theatrical. I thought that’s what strength looked like. But when I finally got thrown in to spar with a visiting sensei, who barely said a word, I was totally lost. I was waiting for loud cues, some visible show of intent—but he was patient, ambiguous, always one step ahead. I, uh, got kicked in the ribs more than once that day. It’s the same discomfort the West feels when China says less.

John Harvey

Exactly. The U.S. approach, especially under Trump, was built on the assumption that you win by being loud, making deals happen, and moving fast. But China’s rhythm is about alignment, not confrontation. They thrive in ambiguity and patience, leveraging the environment itself. If you’re measuring success by how many deals you close, you miss the fact that the ground beneath you might be shifting.

Eden Valen

And the real masterstroke? Sometimes it’s the silence between moves—that disorienting stillness—that signals who’s actually in control. Americans often mistake that silence for weakness, when in fact it’s a kind of invisible choreography. If you’re the one who fills every pause, you risk telling the other side exactly what they want to know.

Eden Valen

Let’s get into this idea of ‘shi’—that momentum, or energy load, from The Art of War. Rather than battling over what’s said or signing deals, it’s about shaping the terrain so your opponent can only roll downhill, whether they realize it or not. There’s real beauty—and menace—in that kind of power. I’ve got a question for both of you: Can a government or a person be strongest precisely when they appear to do nothing?

John Harvey

I’ll jump in. Having worked intelligence and watched plenty of these power games, I’d say absolutely, yes. In fact, the strongest actors are often the ones who don’t react in the moment. China’s use of rare earth export controls—suddenly you find entire industries in the West unable to build essential tech, with barely a raised voice from Beijing. That’s using the environment as leverage. It’s patience weaponized. They don’t need to shout, because they control the flow—like a dam holding back water until just the right season.

Nikki Callahan

I love that image, John. And Eden, I think about how sometimes, in coaching, the urge is to intervene, give advice, make noise. But often the deepest shifts come from staying quiet, letting the ground settle, and trusting that silence holds more than words. China’s control isn’t passive; it’s a kind of loaded stillness. They know that when they act, it ripples for a long, long time.

Eden Valen

It’s uncomfortable for the West, isn’t it? The U.S.—especially the way Trump played it—feels exposed when nothing’s happening. Like, if you’re not pushing, you’re losing. But China operates on a completely different clock. What appears to be non-action is, in reality, the cultivation of options. All it takes is one tightening of a supply chain, one faint shift in trade terms, and suddenly America is reacting instead of acting. The West brings the boulder; China shapes the hill.

John Harvey

Right. That idea of “winning without fighting,” straight out of Sun Tzu. Silence isn’t emptiness, it’s loaded with intent—waiting for its moment to come due.

Nikki Callahan

This brings us to the parable of the Hidden Springs. Eden, would you mind sharing that—because the story captures all of this, really.

Eden Valen

Happily. So, the parable goes like this: A warlord, all thunder and gold, boasts he can win a village with words and coins. But when his army approaches, he finds the rivers dry and his horses thirsty. Turns out, the village had quietly closed its mountain springs—the real source of life, always invisible to outsiders. And when the gate finally opens, the chieftain simply holds a bamboo tablet: “Your words were many. The waters decide.” It’s not the noisy proclamation that wins; it’s the control over what truly sustains.

John Harvey

That story really lands for me on a gut level. I’ve seen, in the intelligence world, the power held by people you almost never hear from—the quiet actors hoarding information or controlling supply. They shift things in silence, and you suddenly realize the board has changed. It was never about what was said, but about who held the springs. That’s the logic I wish more Western policymakers would internalize: the loudest in the room is rarely the one making the rules; it’s the one who controls the flow.

Nikki Callahan

It’s a lesson I keep bumping into. True influence isn’t about forceful declarations—it’s found in pacing, control, endurance. Even in coaching or on the mat, the person who listens—who paces themselves, who isn’t desperate to impose—usually has the most sway. Silence, if you know how to read it, can be the strongest signal of all.

Eden Valen

What can the West actually do with that? Maybe—it’s as simple and as daunting as learning to wait. To listen to the silence and let urgency fade. To remember, as the parable says, “The waters decide.”

John Harvey

And to treat negotiation as a river, not a sprint to the finish. That’s a big takeaway here—steady endurance, reading the slow current, and understanding that power which endures when declarations fade is what leaves a mark. The twentieth century loved its headlines; maybe this century will be shaped by its silences.

Nikki Callahan

I hope so, John. Alright, that’s our episode for today. If this sparked something in you—or made you question the noise around you—consider this just the first ripple, not the whole wave. We’re back next week, so until then, stay curious.

Eden Valen

Let the quiet between thoughts guide you. Until next time, springs and listeners alike.

John Harvey

Take care, both of you—and everyone out there in the valley and beyond. Goodbye for now.