Slowly Is the Fastest Way

I often think of the story of two brothers, Saul and Charlie. Saul rips tape off the wall in one rough pull, never mind the damage. Charlie peels it back patiently, a little at a time, leaving the wall intact. Two working styles — two attitudes toward life.

Success is one footprint after another, steady ground gained step by step.

I have to admit what I used to be: unable to listen patiently, always rushing to state my view; unable to wait calmly for a late friend; quick to abandon hobbies; easily lured away from study by anything shinier.

In a society that worships efficiency, patience has become a scarce resource. We are slaves to instant gratification — chasing quick rewards, demanding immediate responses, deflated the moment short-term feedback dries up — while the things that need time to settle pass us by unseen.

Games and short videos use instant feedback and randomness to spike our hormones, sliding us into easy "flow" — and quietly raising our threshold for joy until genuinely meaningful things can no longer hold our interest.

Labeling people, by the way, is also impatience. A label delivers a fast verdict and spares us thinking — and costs us the chance of discovering something good in another person. Worse, it breeds people skilled at wearing labels, their halo far larger than their ability. The labelers tend to be lazy and gullible; the label-wearers, more often than not, intend to deceive.

The secret of this world is simple: the brain cannot tell reality from imagination. To build a good habit, keep telling yourself — I am already this kind of person — and enjoy being it.

Slowly is the fastest way.

This seeming paradox reminds me that patience is not the passive state of waiting but an active practice, a deep inner construction — the proper posture of a long-termist.