I feel like I take a lot of pride in the patience that I play

Hear the words of Joe Harris: “I feel like I take a lot of pride in the patience that I play with.” In this saying, there is more than the language of sport. There is the whisper of an eternal truth: that strength without restraint is wasted, and speed without wisdom is blindness. The warrior who swings his sword too soon, the farmer who plants before the season, the archer who releases without breath—these do not find victory. But the one who cultivates patience, who holds his ground as the tide rages, who waits for the right moment to strike—this one carves his path with honor.

To take pride in patience is to see beauty not in haste, but in harmony. The world will tempt you with urgency, calling you to rush, to act before thought, to seize before understanding. Yet those who are remembered as masters are those who waited for the rhythm of the game, the flow of the field, the beat of life itself. Harris, though known for his sharp shooting, tells us that his greatest weapon is not speed, but calm. His steadiness is his crown, his composure his blade.

Reflect on the tale of the great general Fabius Maximus of Rome, called “The Delayer.” When Hannibal swept across Italy, Rome demanded quick battle. But Fabius, with patience like iron, refused the frenzy of his peers. He shadowed the enemy, weakened him by waiting, and preserved Rome not with reckless courage, but with measured resolve. His name became a lesson: that patience itself can be strategy, and strategy itself can be triumph. In his restraint, he showed that to endure is not weakness, but the highest discipline.

So too in Harris’s words we find the echo of this wisdom. The patience he plays with is not passivity, but presence. It is the eye that sees openings others miss. It is the hand that steadies in pressure. It is the soul that refuses to be broken by chaos. Just as Fabius delayed until the moment was ripe, Harris delays his shot until it is true. This patience is not merely a tactic—it is a way of being, a testament to the strength of inner control.

There is also pride in such patience. For to master oneself is the noblest of victories. Many boast of speed, of strength, of instinct, but few boast of stillness, for it is the hardest art to learn. Pride in patience is not arrogance, but acknowledgment of a discipline forged in fire. It is the warrior saying: “I have faced the storm, yet I did not waver. I have known chaos, yet I kept my peace.” This is a crown far brighter than the fleeting praise of haste.

Learn from this, O seeker: cultivate patience in your craft, in your struggles, in your life. The seed does not bear fruit in a day, nor does the river carve stone in an hour. Be as the gardener, who waters though no bloom appears, trusting that growth comes unseen before it comes seen. Be as the artisan, who sands and shapes slowly, knowing that beauty lies in precision. Be as the player who does not rush his shot, but waits for the breath, the balance, the truth of the moment.

Let your pride be not in how quickly you move, but in how deeply you endure. Take pride in your patience, as Harris does in his play, as Fabius did in his strategy, as countless wise ones have done across the ages. For patience is not merely waiting—it is waiting with strength, with faith, with purpose. And in this lies the secret of lasting victory.

Therefore, walk forth with courage, but let patience be your companion. When haste calls you, breathe. When chaos tempts you, steady your hand. When the world cries for speed, answer with wisdom. For in patience lies mastery, and in mastery lies peace. Take pride in the patience you live with, and life itself will play in harmony with you.