Great things take time...

Patience stands as a truly remarkable quality, one that receives abundant praise throughout the Buddhist texts, and is one of the ten perfections that all Perfectly Enlightened Buddhas, Solitary Buddhas, Chief Disciples, and Great Disciples have to fulfill in order to achieve their aspirations.

Impatience—which, let's be honest, tends to make one dash about frantically and consequently miss numerous valuable opportunities—stems from one's inability to simply sit quietly and allow situations to resolve themselves naturally. And, well, sometimes matters do sort themselves out quite nicely without our interference, don't they?

The patient individual often finds many a fruit dropping effortlessly into their lap—opportunities that the perpetually hurried person completely overlooks. Among these benefits, perhaps most notably, is a tranquil mind. After all, impatience thoroughly agitates one's thoughts, bringing along those all-too-familiar anxiety-related ailments so prevalent in today's fast moving environment. Nowadays, with nearly everything around us being branded, marketed, and delivered for maximum convenience, speed, and instant gratification, the mind becomes conditioned to expect the same immediate results from meditation.

Patience is the quiet force that forms the backbone of genuine mental training, especially in meditation. Its unassuming endurance gradually nurtures the mind, a quality that no brief session, be it five minutes or even an hour, can replace. Expecting immediate enlightenment is as unrealistic ; true insight must be allowed to develop naturally, without forcing a pace that ultimately does more harm than good.

For countless aeons, the mental rubbish has been accumulating—an absolutely massive heap of mental refuse. So when one initially approaches this mountain with what amounts to a tiny teaspoon and begins the removal process, how rapidly could one possibly expect it to vanish? The answer, without question, lies in patience, coupled with determined, consistent energy.

The patient meditator, in the end, genuinely achieves results of lasting significance, whereas those frantically searching for "quick methods" or "sudden enlightenment" are, condemned by their very attitude to endure prolonged disappointment. That's why when we're meditating, it is of paramount importance to slowly, gradually and mindfully develop the quality of patience–the patience in weeding out defilements, overcoming them and finally eliminating without remainder.

The minds of all beings within saṃsāra have long been engulfed by defilements—lobha (greed), dosa (hatred), and moha (delusion)—since time immemorial. Just like the mental "rubbish" mentioned earlier, these defilements have deeply entrenched themselves, constantly steering the mind toward unwholesome thoughts and actions. There are no "quick fixes" for uprooting them. However, just as "Rome was not built in a day", developing patience and perseverance from this very moment is the only way forward—both in practice and daily life.

That said, patience develops with relative ease only when one has already managed to tame both restlessness and hatred (dosa) within the mind. "Taming" does not mean complete eradication but rather the ability to acknowledge and let go of these tendencies without indulging in them. On the other hand, this does not mean one should wait until restlessness and dosa are entirely subdued before cultivating patience—both can be developed simultaneously, strengthening each other along the way.

Khanti, or forbearance, is the capacity to endure both pleasant and unpleasant circumstances in one's life. Yet, practising khanti on its own may sometimes prove insufficient, as unwise attention can actually lead to increased dosa (aversion or hatred). This is precisely why khanti should be complemented by the practice of 'upekkhā' (equanimity).

Upekkhā, in essence, is a balanced state of mind where one observes all phenomena without being tossed about by passions—whether gross or subtle—whilst maintaining deep vigilance, awareness and engagement. It's important to understand that equanimity differs from mere tolerance; when experiencing true equanimity, one views circumstances dispassionately, with a heart that remains still and undisturbed. We must not confuse equanimity with apathy because equanimity represents not a withdrawal from engagement with suffering or excitement, but rather a more mature and balanced approach to addressing these states of mind—one that acknowledges limitations whilst maintaining unwavering commitment to beneficial action where possible. This balanced perspective allows one to maintain inner steadiness without becoming overwhelmed by circumstances beyond one's control, thereby preserving one's capacity for meaningful service to others in the long term.

This is why there is profound significance in upekkha's position as the highest of the Brahmaviharas (divine abodes) and the supreme factor of Enlightenment. Khanti, by contrast, represents a state where one still experiences the influence of passions—perhaps disliking something or feeling annoyed—yet exercises restraint rather than acting upon these feelings. Unlike equanimity, khanti does not eliminate negative feelings; rather, it involves the conscious restraint from acting upon them when they arise.

Although many examples could illustrate the differences between khanti and upekkhā, this discussion will focus on how they can be developed during practice.

Khanti is the quality of endurance, requiring patience with both pleasant and unpleasant experiences that arise. It involves maintaining dedication even when the meditation object remains elusive, when the nimitta does not appear, or when anxiety arises due to a perceived lack of progress. Khanti is essential when mental resistance makes it difficult to sustain focus or when defilements attempt to weaken mindfulness.

Upekkhā, in contrast, is a state of composed equanimity—an acceptance that certain factors lie beyond your control. It arises from the understanding that, with consistent practice, when past kamma, present conditions, and personal effort align, progress unfolds naturally. Upekkhā acknowledges that all experiences and achievements in this moment are the direct result of past actions and present conditions. It fosters trust in the natural process, provided there is right effort, dedication, and perseverance, rather than attachment to immediate outcomes. After all, a fundamental principle of the Buddha’s teaching is the right view of kamma: we are the heirs of our own actions.

The relationship between these qualities is complementary—khanti provides the mental perseverance to continue despite difficulties, ups and downs, while upekkhā offers the wisdom to accept the natural unfolding of causes and conditions without attachment and expectations. Together, they create a balanced approach to meditation practice that combines determined effort with wise acceptance. Ultimately, this understanding manifests in practice, as reflected in the post title: "Great things take time."

Why do I characterise the results stemming from practice as 'great'? Well, it's because attaining concentration, developing wisdom of nāma-rūpa and its causes, establishing vipassanā practice and ultimately realising Path and Fruition are not trivial accomplishments one can achieve hastily merely through momentary inspiration.

Let's consider the development of right concentration. The Visuddhimagga rather strikingly illustrates this point regarding the development of concentration with a kasiṇa object. It explains that "the kasiṇa preliminary work presents significant challenges for beginners—indeed, only one practitioner in a hundred or perhaps even a thousand may successfully accomplish it. Furthermore, the arousing of the sign proves difficult even for those who have completed the preliminary work, with again only one in a hundred or thousand achieving this. To extend the sign once it has arisen and to reach absorption represents another formidable hurdle, with similar rarity of success. Taming one's mind in the fourteen prescribed ways after reaching absorption is equally demanding, with the same limited rate of achievement. The transformation through supernormal power after training one's mind in these fourteen ways continues this pattern of difficulty, with comparable rarity of success. Finally, developing rapid response after attaining transformation remains challenging, with only one in a hundred or thousand practitioners mastering this ability."

It becomes rather evident that even the seemingly basic task of maintaining focus on a kasiṇa object represents an extraordinarily demanding challenge that relatively few can accomplish. Therefore, if you've managed this feat, you've distinguished yourself as truly one out of a thousand!

Consider that even the Chief Disciples of the Buddha required immense preparation: Venerable Ananda (Chief Attendant of the Buddha), Anuruddha (Master of the Divine Eye), Koṇḍañña (the First Sotāpanna), and Upāli (Master of Monastic Codes) each had to fulfil pāramī for one hundred thousand aeons to achieve their exalted status. Whilst we ordinary disciples aren't required to fulfil pāramī to such an extraordinary extent, we must nonetheless develop these perfections to a significant degree over a considerable period so that these conditions may eventually pave the way for the attainment of Path and Fruition at some future moment.

It is essential to recognise that along this Noble Eightfold Path, there simply are no quick fixes or shortcuts. One must therefore exercise great caution regarding teachers who claim to offer 'shortcuts' to attainments. Perhaps even more importantly, one must remain vigilant about the mind's own craving for rapid, superficial results—for even those with remarkably strong pāramī can be led astray from the Path if they unwisely follow these misguided tendencies of the mind.

True progress on the Path requires patience, perseverance, and an unwavering understanding that genuine attainments, both concentration and wisdom, unfold in their own time—not according to our desires for immediate success. Thus, if you are a wise practitioner or wishes to become one, you must embrace khanti and upekkhā, and ultimately understand with wisdom that great things truly take time.

Patience is the highest austerity; Nibbāna is the highest state, say the Buddhas. (Dhammapada, 184)

A learned noble disciple encounters gain. They reflect: 'I've encountered this gain. It's impermanent, suffering, and perishable.' They truly understand it. They encounter loss, fame, disgrace, blame, praise, pleasure, and pain. They reflect: 'I've encountered this pain. It's impermanent, suffering, and perishable.' They truly understand it. As a result, gain and loss, fame and disgrace, blame and praise, and pleasure and pain don't occupy their mind. (AN 8.6)