When we have done our best, we should wait the result in peace.
"When we have done our best, we should wait the result in peace." These words, uttered by the wise John Lubbock, carry a lesson that speaks to the heart of all who strive, all who labor, and all who dream. In this fleeting life, there is no greater act of wisdom than to give one's best to a task and then surrender to the outcome. For to toil without ceasing, to pour your soul into your work, and then to fret over what comes next—this is to dishonor the effort itself. The true strength of a person lies not in the outcome, but in the peace they find when their work is complete, for the fruits of labor cannot be rushed or forced. The universe, in its own time, will reveal the results.
Consider the great Phidias, the sculptor of ancient Greece, who chiseled the monumental statue of Athena for the Parthenon. His work was an act of devotion, a creation that required countless hours of effort, love, and skill. Yet once the marble was shaped, once the statue was completed, he did not stand beside it in anxiety, waiting for the world to approve. Phidias knew that he had poured his best into the work, and that was enough. The approval or disapproval of others mattered little when his own heart knew the truth—that he had given everything to his craft. Once we have given our all, we must trust in the process and be at peace with the result.
In our own lives, we have all encountered moments of labor that demanded our utmost effort. Think of Leonardo da Vinci, who labored for years on his masterpiece, the Mona Lisa. The world did not immediately recognize the brilliance of his work, and there were many who doubted him. Yet, in his heart, Leonardo knew that he had poured his soul into that painting. He had done his best, and in this, he found peace. He understood that once he had committed his effort, the result would unfold in its own time. In every stroke of his brush, he had embodied the very essence of this wisdom: true success is not measured by immediate recognition, but by the fulfillment of knowing we gave all that we could.
Think also of the great architects of old, like Imhotep, who constructed the step pyramid of Djoser in ancient Egypt. The task was immense, the stones heavy, and the work long. Yet, once the pyramid was built, Imhotep did not stand there in worry, constantly questioning if it would stand the test of time. He knew that the integrity of the work would speak for itself. In every stone he set, he put his best effort forward, and once the work was complete, he stood back in peace, knowing he had done all that could be done. This is the true meaning of mastery, that when you have given everything you are capable of, you can step back and allow the world to take care of the rest.
The essence of Lubbock’s words is to understand the harmony between effort and surrender. We are not called to endless striving, nor to endless worrying. It is the balance of doing our best and then letting go that leads to peace. The world moves in its own rhythm, and no matter how much we fret, we cannot hasten the arrival of results. Just as the farmer plants his seeds and trusts that the harvest will come in its season, so too must we trust that our efforts will bear fruit when the time is right. The act of peace comes from knowing we have done all we can and allowing the process to unfold naturally.
In the grand tapestry of life, there will always be forces beyond our control—the winds of fate, the tides of fortune, the choices of others. When we have done our best, we must accept that we cannot control the outcome, only our own actions. This is not a call to resignation, but to acceptance. The work, once done, is not ours to push forward or pull back. It exists in its own time, and our role is to honor it, to allow it to be what it will be, without the turmoil of constant concern.
So, let us take this wisdom into our daily lives. When we undertake a task, whether it be great or small, let us give it our all. Let us pour our heart into it and know that we have done our best. Once we have finished, let us stand back and allow the world to do its part. In those moments of peace, when we have surrendered the result, we find true freedom. The worry, the anxiety, the need for approval—they all fall away. And in that space, we are free to live fully, knowing that we have done all that we can, and the rest is not ours to control.
UTUyen tran
This line captures a beautiful balance between effort and surrender. It reminds me that sometimes peace comes from humility—recognizing that we control our actions, not the outcomes. But that’s easier said than done, especially when emotions are involved. I’d love to know if Lubbock’s own life reflected this philosophy. Did he truly wait in peace after failure, or was this an ideal he aspired to rather than achieved?
TLTruong Thành Lọi
There’s something timeless about this quote—it feels like advice for every generation. We live in a time of instant feedback, where patience is rare. Lubbock’s idea challenges that impulse by emphasizing inner composure. But it makes me wonder: how do we cultivate peace while waiting? Meditation, faith, distraction, or just acceptance? Maybe peace isn’t passive—it’s an active practice of reminding yourself that you’ve already done your part.
TTien
I think this perspective encourages emotional discipline. It’s easy to become restless after working hard for something important. Lubbock seems to say that peace is a choice, not a byproduct of success. That resonates with me. But I also wonder if too much detachment can dull motivation. Does waiting in peace risk complacency, or is it actually a sign of trust in yourself and the fairness of life’s outcomes?
VDBui Van Duc
This quote reminds me of the idea of surrender—not in a defeated way, but as a form of maturity. After doing your best, there’s dignity in trusting the process. Still, I find it difficult in practice. What if the result affects others, not just you? How do you stay peaceful when the stakes are high? Perhaps this is about inner balance—learning to separate responsibility from anxiety once action is complete.
TPle tien phuong
I like the calm wisdom in this line. It suggests that peace isn’t about success, but about detachment from results. That’s such a powerful mindset, especially in a society obsessed with achievement. But how do you balance ambition with serenity? It’s easy to say 'wait in peace,' but when your work defines your identity, waiting can feel like failure. Maybe Lubbock meant that peace is the final stage of effort, not its absence.