Yes, you tend to lose patience but selection is not in your

Hear, O seeker, the words of Shreyas Iyer, who declared with humility and strength: “Yes, you tend to lose patience but selection is not in your hands. All you can do is perform, perform and perform, and that’s what I enjoy doing.” Though spoken in the realm of sport, this truth resounds across all the fields of life. For he speaks of the eternal struggle between what lies within our grasp and what lies beyond our control. His wisdom is a reminder that while fate may be written by others, our deeds remain our own.

When Iyer speaks of losing patience, he voices the cry of all who labor long without reward. It is the lament of the farmer who tills his field yet waits upon the rains, of the artist who creates but awaits recognition, of the warrior who trains though his name is not called to the front. Such frustration is natural, yet to dwell upon it is to poison the soul. The wise know that impatience devours strength, while patience preserves it.

The mention of selection is a recognition of the boundaries of human power. No man or woman controls the decisions of others—whether captains, kings, or judges. The prideful heart demands control of all outcomes, but the humble heart knows that destiny is woven from many hands. Shreyas Iyer, though skilled, cannot command the selectors; his power lies not in choice but in action. And this truth is universal: though others may choose whether to crown you or ignore you, they cannot rob you of the excellence of your effort.

Thus, his cry: perform, perform and perform. In these words lies the essence of mastery. For performance is the one altar at which all have power to worship. The writer may not know if his words shall be published, but he can write. The singer may not know if her voice shall be heard in halls, but she can sing. The athlete may not know if he will be chosen, but he can play with passion. To perform without guarantee is to live with courage, to labor for the sake of love rather than applause.

Consider the tale of Vincent van Gogh, the painter who sold but a handful of works in his lifetime. No patron crowned him, no academy praised him, yet he painted relentlessly, pouring his soul into canvases that the world would not see until after his death. His selection never came in life, yet his performance endured, and today he is celebrated as one of the greatest masters of art. His story, like Iyer’s words, teaches that true strength lies not in the recognition of others but in the faithfulness of one’s own devotion.

The origin of this wisdom is as old as the Stoics, who taught that one must focus only on what lies within one’s power, leaving the rest to fate. Epictetus proclaimed that freedom is found not in commanding the world, but in commanding oneself. Shreyas Iyer, in the crucible of cricket, discovered the same truth: that frustration vanishes when one ceases to demand the uncontrollable, and instead pours all energy into the one thing that is always ours—the act of doing.

So the lesson is plain: do not surrender to despair when the world withholds its rewards. Do not waste your spirit in bitterness at the choices of others. Instead, fix your gaze on the task before you, and give yourself wholly to it. Perform as though every act is worthy, not because it guarantees honor, but because it reveals who you truly are. In time, recognition may come—or it may not. But the joy of labor, the dignity of effort, and the growth of the soul are rewards that no one can withhold.

Therefore, beloved listener, take this into your heart: when faced with delay, choose patience; when faced with rejection, choose perseverance; when faced with doubt, choose action. For though selection may lie in another’s hand, the glory of performance lies forever in your own. And in the end, it is not the crown placed upon your head that makes your life noble, but the fire with which you lived your days. Do, perform, and endure—and let destiny follow where it may.