“If our young men miscarry in their first enterprises, they lose all heart. If the young merchant fails, men say he is ruined. If the finest genius studies at one of our colleges, and is not installed in an office within one year afterwards in the cities or suburbs of Boston or New York, it seems to his friends and to himself that he is right in being disheartened, and in complaining the rest of his life. A sturdy lad from New Hampshire or Vermont, who in turn tries all the professions, who teams it, farms it, peddles, keeps a school, preaches, edits a newspaper, goes to Congress, buys a township, and so forth, in successive years, and always, like a cat, falls on his feet, is worth a hundred of these city dolls. He walks abreast with his days, and feels no shame in not “studying a profession,” for he does not postpone his life, but lives already. He has not one chance, but a hundred chances.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
I’ve always been impressed with the running back who exudes patience when they are handed the ball, surveying the line for a hole, and then committing at full speed.
Or in Jiu-Jitsu, the calm martial artist who knows that timing can often be more important than speed.
Even in the grocery line you have different types of people. You have the individual who is hopping from line to line. The person who gets in one line and waits it out no matter what. And lastly, the individual who surveys the lines – makes a decision – but is still open to change if a new register opens up.
timer by useiconic.com from the Noun Project