A few stories on patience
Investing, basketball, & martial arts
One pattern I've noticed about successful people is that they are obsessive about getting around other ambitious people.
People who move fastest in their careers intentionally buy proximity to others who are ahead of them. They understand that proximity is power.
You don't rise to the level of your potential. You fall to the level of your environment.
A sign of a future successful person: when you talk to them, it feels like they've thought deeply about what they’re doing. They’re awake. They’re intentional. They don't operate on auto pilot like a sheep. They think about what they do because they know that movement doesn’t mean achievement.
Reminder to self: never let your desire to make everything a home run prevent you from taking the swing.
“Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.” — Anaïs Nin
“Addiction is proof that you are capable of intense devotion. You just have a false god.” — Ty Ngachira
Those closest to me know that I am a perpetually restless person.
If I don’t feel like I’m making progress toward something, I tend to get into a state of agitation. I just can’t sit still.
So I want to share a few stories about patience and long-term thinking that stood out to me (mostly reminders to self):
J. Paul Getty was once the richest man in the world.
In his book How to Be Rich, he tells a story about a young man who buys an oil lease for $4,000 on a Monday and sells it to Getty on Tuesday for $8,000.
The young man walks away bragging about doubling his money in 24 hours. Getty makes $800,000 on that lease over the next decade.
As legendary investor Charlie Munger once said, “The big money is not in the buying and the selling, but in the waiting.”
Back in my basketball days, I used to take deep pride in getting the crowd to give me a reaction. I would do a bunch of fancy dribble moves, drive into the lane, then throw a dump pass or no-look behind-the-back pass to a teammate.
One game, after throwing back to back turnovers, my coach pulled me aside and said:
“There are no style points in life. You don't get more points for making it look good. The layup counts just as much as the 360-degree windmill dunk.
Make the right play, not the flashy one.”
A man used to go drinking with his buddies every Friday night, and he’d always bring up his youngest son.
“Kid’s the dumbest boy you’ll ever meet,” he’d laugh, pulling out a dime and a quarter. “Watch this.”
Whenever the boy came by, the father would hold out both coins and say, “Go ahead, pick one.”
Every time, without hesitation, the boy grabbed the dime.
The table would erupt. The father’s friends would shake their heads, laughing.
One night, after the laughter died down, a friend caught the boy outside.
“Hey,” he said, crouching down. “You do know a quarter is worth more than a dime, right?”
The boy grinned.
“Of course I do,” he said. “But the day I take the quarter… is the day he stops asking.”
There's an old Taoist parable about a Chinese farmer whose horse ran away. His neighbors came by that evening to commiserate. "Such bad luck," they said.
The farmer shrugged. "Maybe."
The next day the horse came back with seven wild horses. The neighbors returned. "What incredible luck!"
The farmer said, "Maybe."
His son tried to break one of the wild horses, got thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors came again. "Terrible luck."
The farmer said, "Maybe."
The following week, army officers came through the village conscripting young men for war. They saw the son's broken leg and moved on.
The neighbors came by one last time. “What great luck!”
The farmer said, “Maybe.”
Basketball trainer Tim Grover, who’s trained legends like Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, and Dwayne Wade wrote about Kobe’s unwavering focus in his book Relentless.
“Kobe sprinted through life like no one I’ve ever known. He had no hobbies or distractions. He didn’t play golf, hang out with buddies, or go to parties. Occasionally, he’d decide to see a movie and rent out the whole theater so he could take a small group of friends or family to see it privately, usually twice in a row.
Otherwise, he trained. He practiced, studied film, and focused on one obsession: winning. Besides his beautiful family, which was his top non-basketball priority, his entire focus centered on winning. For 20 years in the NBA, Kobe sprinted from season to season, game to game, quarter to quarter. He never slowed down, and he couldn’t comprehend those who did.
He’d hear about a group of players heading to a concert, a party, or another sporting event, and he’d rarely join them. “You go ahead and do that,” he thought. “I’ll be right here doing this. That was his time to elevate himself, to do the work others weren’t doing. He believed the extra work added years of advantage and experience to his skill set. He had no patience for waiting or rebuilding. He began and ended every season the same way: racing toward a championship.”
Martial Arts Teacher Daniel Bolelli wrote, "Training is like sweeping the floor.
Just because we've done it once, doesn't mean the floor is clean forever.
Everyday the dust comes back. Everyday we must sweep."
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