THE POWER OF PATIENTS

Overlooking the Pacific Ocean from a high-rise café nestled in the natural beauty of Big Sur, California, I’m struck by a simple truth: patience shapes everything — my relationships, my reality, and the way I move through the world.

Let’s face it: life gets noisy, busy, hectic, chaotic. It moves fast, voraciously, and it doesn’t slow down for anyone. Since the speed of life is mostly out of our control, the key to finding peace in the chaos is learning how to control the speed of ourselves, the speed we move through problems, the pace we set when entering relationships, the ability to respond rather than react in our decisions. The pressure we put on the gas pedal often determines whether we crash or arrive somewhere safely, whether we land beautifully or have to walk through our own carnage. Learning the rhythm of speed is a master act, and to cultivate that rhythm, we must enroll ourselves in a masterclass in patience.

I don’t know about you, but I struggle with patience. I struggle with control. I struggle with how I maneuver through the detours of life, conflicts, business, difficult personalities, and even myself. I’ve yet to master the power of the breath, the power of the pause, the power of cloaking myself in an impenetrable armor that shields my inner world from the turbulence of the outer one. Though I can say I’ve gotten much better and I’m improving every day. But to say I’ve nailed it would be a lie. To be completely honest, I’ve never met anyone who has. That should give you, as it does me, hope that patience is a lifelong pursuit worth ascending toward, and every day is a new opportunity to inch ourselves closer to this almost superhuman ability to remain calm, collected, mindful, and kind.

When I take inventory of the moments where I’m able to turn patience into action, it usually shows up in the way I’ve learned not to be so triggered by my own behavior in moments of overwhelm. I’ll be completely honest — sometimes I do dumb things when I’m tired. Instead of beating myself up, I just laugh at it. How silly of me to drive off with my coffee on the roof of my car. What a dork I am for writing the wrong name on a thank-you note. Then I try to correct those slip-ups by being more present, more aware, more awake.

You see, my lack of patience for my own mistakes is deeply rooted in my past. When I was a kid, things like these would have been spotlighted, mocked, and attacked by someone I loved. It’s ironic, isn’t it? The things that hurt us as children tend to become the characteristics we carry into adulthood. Now we don’t even need the bully who hurt us because we have become the bully. This is why unraveling these behaviors is so important. It’s the only way we can become our own healers rather than our own hurters.

Where I know I need to grow most, and this is not just an observation but a self-admission, is in my relationships, both interpersonal and professional. The beauty of life is that it often puts people in front of us to serve as mirrors so we can see our own reflections. For instance, the woman I’m dating is one of the most patient humans I’ve ever met. Things that send me into a tailspin simply make her readjust her altitude, and honestly, it’s inspiring. She’s turned patience into a virtue, refusing to create unnecessary labels or damaging narratives around the little things that would probably test most people. Watching the way she bends around problems or softly lets them bounce off her has been such a beautiful gift to witness because it pushes me to learn how to do the same.

Then there are my sisters and the way they navigate motherhood, which has been both impressive and moving. I’m not a parent yet, but the way they handle conflict with such a gentle touch leaves me in awe. I ask them how they deal with the attitudes, the rejections, the disappointments, and they always boil it down to one essential element: unconditional love.

If I look even further into the horizon of patience, I have to tell myself this hard truth once again: this will always be a challenge, a dance, but also an opportunity to become a better version of me than the one sitting here today, writing these words while overlooking this view. Almost all great things in life correspond with patience, even this view itself, which is a quiet testament to that virtue. The traffic I endured. The problem-solving. The planning. The packing. All of it required patience. And yet, here I am, present, alive, and grateful. This moment, this memory, this proof that the journey was worth it.

So I’ll leave you with this reflection: Where is your Big Sur? Where is your patience being stretched, tested, or challenged? And how can you meet it with curiosity, grace, and a kind hand toward yourself, making every moment of the journey not just tolerable, but deeply worth it?

Your friend,

Danny