My biggest weakness is patience, wanting to see things happen

Hear, O seeker of wisdom, the confession of Paul Gleason: “My biggest weakness is patience, wanting to see things happen too quickly or get changes in place right away. Not having the patience to let things develop.” Though spoken with humility, these words strike deep into the eternal struggle of mankind. For they reveal the tension between the fire of ambition and the slow rhythm of nature, between the urgency of desire and the law of time. Many have fallen to this weakness, and many more shall rise only when they learn to master it.

When Gleason speaks of patience as his weakness, he admits what countless warriors of the spirit have discovered: that to move too quickly can break what might have flourished, and to demand swiftness from life is to war against the very order of the universe. The flower will not bloom faster if we pull at its petals; the fruit will not ripen sooner if we tear at its skin. To lack patience is to dishonor the natural unfolding of all things, and yet it is a temptation felt by all who hunger for change.

The truth is that haste, though born of noble longing, often leads to ruin. Recall the tale of Alexander the Great. In his burning desire to conquer, he swept across nations with speed unmatched, but his empire, built so quickly, fractured just as quickly after his death. He had not the patience to let his dominion develop, to bind it with roots deep and lasting. Contrast this with the slow, steady rise of Rome, whose patience in law, infrastructure, and discipline gave it centuries of endurance. Herein lies the eternal lesson: that what is built in haste may dazzle, but what is built with patience endures.

Gleason’s words also uncover the inner battle between control and surrender. To be human is to wish for power over outcomes, to see results with our own eyes and to claim, “I have done this swiftly.” Yet the deeper truth is that much of life’s greatness cannot be forced. Love, wisdom, character, trust—all these grow slowly, like oak trees stretching toward the sky. The impatience of man cannot command them; only time can grant their fullness.

Yet let us not mistake Gleason’s confession for weakness alone. For within it lies strength: the strength of awareness. To know one’s own flaw is the beginning of wisdom. Many rush headlong, never seeing that their haste destroys the very blessings they seek. But he who admits his failing has already begun the path of mastery. In this way, his words are not only confession but counsel to all who listen: beware of haste, and learn to honor the pace of life.

The lesson for us is clear. When you are tempted to rush, remember the laws of nature. When you demand immediate change, recall that true growth requires seasons. When you hunger for results, choose instead to trust the unfolding process. This does not mean idleness, for effort must be constant. But it means balancing effort with endurance, action with patience, striving with stillness. In this balance lies the art of true greatness.

Practical action is within your grasp: set goals, but allow time for them to ripen. Work diligently, but resist the poison of urgency. When faced with delay, do not despair; instead, use that time to prepare, to strengthen, to learn. And when impatience rises like fire, quench it with remembrance: that even the sun itself rises slowly, bringing light to the world not in an instant, but in the steady march of dawn.

Thus, Paul Gleason’s words echo across the ages: impatience may be our weakness, but patience, if embraced, can become our crown. Do not demand that life move at your pace. Instead, align yourself with its rhythm, and you shall find that what you build will not crumble, but will endure like the mountains. Patience is not weakness; it is the strength to trust in time.