My biggest fault? I guess it's a lack of patience - not when I'm

Rita Tushingham once confessed with candor: “My biggest fault? I guess it's a lack of patience – not when I'm working, but when I'm not working.” These words reveal a paradox that many souls of craft and passion encounter: the ability to summon patience in the midst of labor, yet the struggle to wait in stillness when the hands are idle. It is the burden of the restless heart, which finds meaning in action but unease in pause. Her admission speaks to the deep human longing to always be moving forward, and the difficulty of trusting the unseen work of time when nothing appears to be happening.

The origin of these words lies in the life of Tushingham herself, an actress whose career spanned decades, from the heights of 1960s cinema to modern screens. Her life was defined by the rhythm of art: long stretches of waiting punctuated by bursts of intense creation. Like many artists, she discovered that when immersed in work, the focus of craft grants serenity. Yet in the moments of waiting between roles, between opportunities, between acts, impatience gnaws at the heart. Her words are not weakness but honesty: that the greatest trials are not always found in the toil itself, but in the silences that surround it.

This struggle is not hers alone; history resounds with the same lesson. Consider the story of Nelson Mandela, imprisoned for twenty-seven long years. His patience in captivity became legendary, but it was not an effortless gift—it was a discipline. The action of resistance, the planning of struggle, gave him strength. Yet the long nights of stillness were his true crucible. There, where no action was possible, he learned that patience in waiting is sometimes the most heroic form of endurance. Without that waiting, his return to leadership would never have borne the fruit of reconciliation.

Tushingham’s insight reveals that work itself can often be easier than stillness, for in work the mind is occupied, the body engaged, the soul given purpose. But in idleness, the spirit must wrestle with uncertainty, doubt, and longing. This is why many fear silence and dread pause, rushing always to fill time with noise. Yet it is in those pauses that the unseen roots of growth often spread. Impatience blinds us to this hidden work of time, making us believe that nothing happens when, in truth, much is happening beneath the surface.

The deeper wisdom here is that the measure of character lies not only in how we act, but in how we wait. The seed planted in the soil cannot demand the sun or rush the rain. It must rest in darkness, trusting the rhythm of seasons. So too must we. Tushingham’s words remind us that even those of great talent falter in the discipline of stillness, yet this struggle is universal and noble. To master it is to gain strength greater than the strength of toil.

The lesson for us is clear: we must practice patience not only in our labors, but in our waiting. Learn to see the empty spaces not as voids, but as sacred ground where future fruit is nurtured. In times when no work lies before you, do not let impatience corrode your spirit. Instead, use that time to prepare, to reflect, to grow inwardly. Just as the warrior sharpens his sword in times of peace, so must we sharpen our hearts in times of stillness.

Practical action may be taken: cultivate stillness through reading, reflection, or quiet practice when opportunities seem scarce. Reframe waiting not as wasted time, but as a stage of preparation for what is yet to come. Trust that the flow of life will carry you again into work, into movement, into creation. If you master this, then even your idle hours will serve your destiny.

Thus let these words echo as guidance: true patience is not only the calm endurance of labor, but the faithful trust in silence. Remember Rita Tushingham’s confession, for it reveals a challenge many face but few admit. To future generations, we pass this teaching: work with focus, yes, but wait with faith. For in both the noise of labor and the quiet of stillness, life shapes you for what is yet to come.