There’s a scene in On the Waterfront (1954) where Marlon Brando’s washed-up boxer turns to his brother, the same brother who once asked him to throw a fight, and says:

It’s one of the most quoted lines in film.. and one of the most heartbreaking.

Because it’s not just about boxing; it’s about wondering if you had what it took, and never knowing for sure.

That line lingers because many of us carry a quiet seed of regret.
What if I hadn’t thrown the fight? What if I had really tried?

Blake’s line lands for the same reason.

Anyone who has made something that mattered to them: a work of art, a book, a company — first looked like a fool.
If not to the world, then at least to themselves.

It’s the persistence that makes them wise.

I ask myself this often with The Disruptive Business Network (DBN).

DBN has existed in some form — events, consulting, podcasting, writing — for more than ten years.
It has never quite taken off. Still, I keep showing up. Why?

Because DBN is part of me. It carries my DNA. How could I give that up?

There’s a line I love from Frank Serpico, the NYPD officer who refused to take bribes and paid the price for his integrity. Asked why he didn’t simply go along and donate the money to charity, he said:

That question haunts me. Who would I be when the world goes quiet?

And then there’s the small proof that it works — the conversations after a DBN event, the notes from readers of these essays, the feeling after recording a podcast. Those moments are fuel.

Persistence has a reputation for heroics. We picture Olympians.
Yet it often looks ordinary. Sometimes it’s five minutes a day.

Five minutes a day, every day, in the same chair at the same time, is more than thirty hours a year.

That’s a body of work. That’s being a contender.

As I’ve written before, The Red Hand Files — where Nick Cave answers letters from fans — is one of the best things on the internet.

In a recent letter, a painter wrote that he spends evenings in his shed making art with joy, yet feels guilty as a husband and father.
He asked how to find balance.

Nick Cave’s answer was clear: your duty as a husband and father comes first; your art comes second.

That’s wisdom.

Non-wisdom is rationalising the cost of a dream when others are paying for it.
It’s asking a partner, children, or team to carry the weight of your ambition.
It’s chasing something for self-validation rather than contribution.

Having worked in start-ups, I’ve seen this often.
We glorify the person who “never gave up”. But persistence isn’t inherently virtuous.
Sometimes it’s ego in disguise.

So the real question is this:
Is my persistence rooted in a belief that the work matters beyond me, or am I protecting my pride (or ego)?

Knowing whether to continue or let go requires self-awareness and honesty.
I use three simple tests.

Am I receiving signals — even quiet ones — that the work resonates?
Yes: A client refers someone new, or a stranger writes to say something helped them.
No: Months pass and the only engagement comes from friends being polite.

Am I proud of the person this pursuit is turning me into?
Yes: I’m becoming more disciplined, generous, and calm.
No: I’m becoming resentful, defensive, or constantly exhausted.

What am I sacrificing that might matter more?
Yes: I can pursue this without neglecting health or relationships.
No: I’m missing my child’s milestones or losing touch with friends for a goal that no longer feels alive.

Sometimes quitting is wisdom.
Sometimes pivoting is courage.
Sometimes staying the course is folly disguised as grit.

And sometimes a season demands asymmetry: a short, time-boxed sprint of focused effort to test conviction. If it doesn’t show promise within that frame, step back and reassess.

Here’s the contradiction.

What looks like foolish persistence can be the truest wisdom.
The blind pursuit of wonder, excitement, and awe isn’t a distraction — it’s a compass.
It brings you alive.

Often the work that emerges from that place is the most powerful, because it’s untainted by agenda.

That’s the magic.
It’s the moment you stop asking, “Will this lead somewhere?”
You stop worrying whether anyone will care about an obscure connection between a 1954 film and the value of persistence …and you write it anyway ;)

I won’t claim to define it, but I have a vague sense of how it feels
Wisdom isn’t a destination or a crown. It’s a way of being.
It’s how you see the world and how you relate to yourself.
It sounds like this: This is mine to do. This is who I am.

Wisdom says:
Yes, I was foolish. But It was my foolishness. I walked through it. And I’m still walking.

🎧 Nick Cave’s Red Hand Files — one of the most generous corners of the internet.
🎬 Watch On the Waterfront (1954). That one scene alone will stay with you.

If this essay struck a chord, hit reply and tell me where you’re persisting..or where you’ve decided to stop.
You can also share it with someone standing at that same crossroads. Or ask them to subscribe here

Until next time,
Rahul

This month on Finding Meaning in Work, Cam shares how a decade in banking gave way to a vocation he’d been circling since childhood: dog behaviour training.

Raised around a family boarding kennel, he never saw dogs as a career until corporate hierarchy and box-ticking became impossible to ignore. At forty, he sat down and wrote a list of what he genuinely liked. Dogs kept winning.

Cam signed up for a training accreditation, joined a mentor circle, learnt quickly inside a busy shelter, and launched Act of Dog with a simple website and a few Google ads. Today he specialises in fear, anxiety and aggression in dogs, starting not with commands but with safety and self-regulation.

You’ll hear the real turning points in Cam’s story: moving to London with no plan, the mentors who nudged him forward, and the partner who quietly believed in him.

What stands out isn’t the leap from banking to dog behaviour work but the way he did it, by following curiosity rather than certainty. His approach applies far beyond dogs: build trust first, then teach.

If you’ve ever thought about changing direction, or you lead people who feel stretched or stuck, this conversation is a reminder that progress doesn’t always come from pushing harder. Sometimes it starts by slowing down long enough to build trust with others.. and with yourself.

Listen now by searching for Finding Meaning in Work on your favourite podcast app, or click the button above