9 March, overcast
I talked for a while today with someone very clever. His thinking moves fast and I often can’t keep up. I walked home feeling low, and it took a long while to work one thing out:
Talent is someone else’s starting line, not my finish line. The most reliable thing I own is patience — the ability to sit still, to grind at the same thing again and again, to stay one more month where others have already walked away.
This is not consolation. Looking back, almost nothing I have finished was finished by cleverness; it was finished by not walking away.
Slow is fast. Talent decides how soon you arrive; patience decides how far you go.
I don’t expect to be brilliant. I only want to be someone who doesn’t give up easily.
That’s where today’s low mood goes.
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