Because I have so many brothers and sisters, I think I'm able to

Hear the words of RZA, spoken with quiet wisdom: “Because I have so many brothers and sisters, I think I’m able to have a certain patience.” Though simple in form, these words carry a truth forged in the furnace of family life. For in the company of many siblings, one cannot live as an island, demanding all things for oneself. One must learn to wait, to listen, to share, to bend. This is the training ground of the soul, where the virtue of patience is born not from theory, but from daily life, from love and struggle mingled together.

In the ancient households, where families were vast and generations lived under one roof, children were schooled in this same way. They were taught that to survive together, one must yield sometimes, endure at others, and restrain the selfish impulse for the good of all. RZA speaks from this timeless experience. Surrounded by many voices, many wills, he learned not to demand that the world move only at his pace. Instead, he discovered the rhythm of patience, which allows harmony to grow where chaos might otherwise reign.

History, too, testifies to the power of siblings in shaping character. Consider the family of Joseph in the old tales: a young man among eleven brothers, his early life was marked by jealousy and rivalry. Yet through suffering and forgiveness, Joseph grew into a man of extraordinary patience, able to endure prison and betrayal without losing hope. In the end, this patience became the very strength that lifted him to greatness, saving not only Egypt but his own family. Such stories remind us that family, with all its conflicts, is often the crucible where patience and wisdom are forged.

To grow among many brothers and sisters is to be constantly tested. One learns to share food when hunger tempts, to yield in games when pride urges victory, to listen when others speak though one longs to interrupt. These small lessons, repeated daily, shape a heart that can endure greater trials in the wider world. For the one who cannot be patient with a sibling cannot hope to be patient with a stranger, nor with the burdens of life itself.

RZA’s words shine also with humility. He does not claim patience as a gift of his own making, but as a blessing born from his family. In this there is wisdom: for virtues are seldom formed in isolation. They are cultivated in the soil of community, watered by love, and tempered by conflict. To recognize the role of family in shaping one’s strength is to honor both the bonds of blood and the deeper truth that we are made strong by those around us.

The lesson for us is clear: seek not to escape the trials of family, but to embrace them as teachers. When brothers and sisters—or friends, or colleagues—test your spirit, see it as training in patience, preparing you for the larger struggles of life. Do not curse the delays, the quarrels, or the frustrations, for these are the stones that sharpen the blade of endurance. Just as the warrior hones his sword through friction, so too is the soul honed by the friction of human relationships.

Practical wisdom follows. When faced with impatience, pause and breathe. Remember the lessons of the family: to wait your turn, to listen with respect, to forgive quickly, to endure without bitterness. Surround yourself with others not only for comfort, but for growth, knowing that their presence will challenge and refine you. And when the trials of life seem heavy, recall that the virtue of patience—once learned among siblings—can sustain you through storms greater than you imagined.

Thus, let RZA’s words echo as a teaching: the presence of many brothers and sisters is not a burden but a blessing, for it plants in the heart the seeds of patience. And patience, once ripened, becomes the root of wisdom, the foundation of peace, and the strength by which all great journeys are endured.