I haven't got a lot of patience.

Hear, O children of ambition, the blunt confession of Jeffrey Katzenberg, a master of storytelling and a shaper of visions: “I haven’t got a lot of patience.” Though these words seem plain, within them lies a truth of fire and urgency. For patience is the virtue of slow rivers that carve mountains, but its absence is the storm that brings swifter change. In these words is revealed the spirit of the doer, the restless heart that will not tarry while the world waits. Such a soul demandeth action, and though it may stumble, it also conquers, for it refuseth to remain still.

In the halls of DreamWorks, Katzenberg was known for his tireless drive. He pressed forward with visions that seemed impossible, birthing works of art that enchanted the globe. Though his confession was of little patience, it was also of great determination. His spirit was one that could not abide delays, nor languish in endless debate. This fire was both a burden and a gift: a burden, for it could weary those around him; a gift, for it brought forth creations that changed the world of film forever. Thus do we see that impatience, when bound to vision, can become a force of creation.

Consider the tale of Alexander the Great. When he came upon the Gordian Knot, a puzzle said to defy all men, others lingered and tugged in vain. Yet Alexander, with no patience for slow unraveling, drew forth his sword and struck. The knot was severed, and with it, destiny’s path cleared before him. Some would call it rashness, others boldness, yet who can deny the fruit it bore? So too with Katzenberg’s confession—it is not an apology, but a revelation: that some battles are not won by waiting, but by striking.

Yet, my children, beware. For impatience, though mighty, is a double-edged blade. Unchecked, it scattereth friendships, exhausteth companions, and blinds the eye to details that demand care. History is replete with rulers and captains who, in their haste, overreached and fell. The same fire that forges steel can also consume the forge. Thus, the lesson is balance: to know when to wield impatience as a weapon, and when to sheathe it in favor of stillness.

Mark this wisdom: impatience is the cry of the heart that cannot endure delay, but patience is the guardian of endurance. The wise soul learns to bind these opposites together, using impatience to spark beginnings and patience to preserve them. For a man who starts quickly but cannot endure shall burn out; yet a man who endures forever but never begins shall achieve nothing. The greatest builders are those who know the rhythm of both.

Therefore, take from Katzenberg’s words not merely a declaration of temper, but a call to act. Let impatience drive you to begin your labors today, not tomorrow. Let it shake you from idleness, from the chains of endless planning. Yet temper it with patience, that your labors endure beyond the first rush of zeal. When you feel the fire of restlessness, harness it; when you feel the weight of delay, learn from it. In this balance, greatness is forged.

Practical is this counsel: when thou art confronted with opportunity, let not hesitation steal it away—seize it, as Alexander seized the knot. But when thou art building, crafting, or nurturing, remember the tree does not grow in a day. Speak not harshly when a companion lingers, for their caution may be thy salvation. Be swift to begin, but steadfast to endure.

Thus remember: “I haven’t got a lot of patience” is not merely a weakness confessed, but a torch of urgency lifted high. Learn from it both the danger of haste and the power of bold beginnings. For in the dance of patience and impatience, the destiny of men and nations is written. And those who master the rhythm shall not merely live—they shall create, conquer, and inspire generations yet unborn.