Keep Hitting the Rock: The Overlooked Power of Persistence in a World Obsessed with Talent

Keep Hitting the Rock: The Power of Persistence

In our modern narrative of success, we often gravitate towards stories of innate talent, overnight breakthroughs, and seemingly effortless genius. We celebrate the finish line, the polished final product, the dazzling results. But in doing so we frequently overlook the single most critical, yet least glamorous, ingredient required to achieve anything truly meaningful: persistence. It's the quiet engine driving progress, the unwavering commitment through the messy middle, the sheer tenacity to keep going when enthusiasm wanes and results seem distant. My own understanding of this crucial quality wasn't gleaned from a business seminar or a self-help book, but from an unexpected interaction in the chaotic, paint-splattered environment of a high school art class nearly two decades ago.

Setting the Scene: High School Art, Ambition, and Angst

Let me take you back to 2005. High school was a whirlwind of finding your place, and for me, that place was unequivocally in the art department. Driven by a burgeoning passion to create, I immersed myself in every art class available in particular the visual arts. The smell of turpentine, the scratch of charcoal on paper, the stroke of oil paint – this was my element. I was dedicated, eager to learn, and relatively absorbed in my own projects.

Around me, however, the atmosphere was different for some. I recall being seated near a group of young women navigating their final years with less certainty. For them, art class seemed less a passion pursuit and more a requirement to fulfill, a space to occupy while figuring out their next steps. For me, I was a shy kid, and all I wanted to be was the best. Their energy often manifested as chatter and distraction, a stark contrast to the focused intensity I tried to cultivate. They struggled with the assignments, their canvases or drawing boards reflecting sporadic effort rather than consistent development.

Frequently, as I worked – sketching, painting, refining – I’d sense eyes on my work, followed by giggles and rolling eyes, as if I was working too hard for some silly assignment. It was usually accompanied by a glance over at their own pieces, which often showed little progress from the previous session. Honestly, preoccupied with my own deadlines and artistic challenges, I didn't usually engage much beyond a polite smile. Their struggles, while noticeable, seemed separate from my own focused path.

A Deadline Looms: The Catalyst for Connection

That changed one day, about a week before a major project deadline. The ambient stress in the room had heightened considerably. One of the girls nearby, let's call her Sarah, was visibly agitated. Her frustration wasn't just background noise anymore; it was palpable. She’d repeatedly start, stop, crumple paper, sigh dramatically, and cast comparative glances my way. Finally, she turned to me directly, her voice tight with frustration.

"How do you do it?" she asked, gesturing vaguely between my nearly completed project and her own chaotic workspace. "How do you get it to look that good?"

I paused my work and looked over at her project area. It wasn't just unfinished; it bore the hallmarks of a creative battle lost multiple times. There were faint streaks of paint covering paint, covered by more paint, perhaps evidence of several abandoned attempts. It radiated frustration and stalled momentum. It looked like she'd hit a wall and didn't know how to push through.

Unveiling the Unseen: The Truth About the Creative Process

Her question hung in the air. It wasn't just about technique; it was about bridging the gap between her current state of frustration and my apparent ease. I considered my response carefully. The easy answer might have been to offer a technical tip, but her issue seemed deeper – a crisis of confidence rooted in a misunderstanding of the creative process.

So, I offered the truth, calmly and honestly. "Mine looked similar to yours about two weeks ago," I admitted, “and it was a complete mess.”

I explained that everything looks messy, chaotic, even fundamentally flawed, when you're in the thick of creating something new. Building anything worthwhile, whether it's a painting, a business, or even a physical structure, involves a period that looks and feels like pure chaos. I even mentioned Auckland’s Sky Tower – how for years during its construction, it was a confusing jumble of scaffolding, cranes, and raw materials, bearing little resemblance to the elegant spire it would become.

"Everything looks terrible before it's finished," I reiterated, looking back at her project with fresh eyes, trying to see the potential beneath the struggle. "I can see what you’re trying to do, you just gotta push through and complete it."

Her shoulders slumped slightly. "I don't know," she mumbled, defaulting back to comparison. "I just hate that I can’t draw or paint, and you're so naturally talented. I can’t be as good as you."

"Thank you," I replied gently but firmly, "but this isn't about being as good as me, or anyone else. It’s about completing your project to the best of your ability. Your goal right now is to meet the requirements and pass this assignment. And looking at where you are, even with the restarts, I absolutely know you can finish this, and it will be more than good enough. Trust the process, and trust yourself."

Persistence Pays Off: A Lesson Learned

When the deadline arrived, Sarah submitted her finished project. She passed, achieving a grade well above the minimum requirement – a solid "B" equivalent, if I recall correctly ("M for Merot" as we termed it). It was a testament not to sudden artistic genius, but to her decision to push through the frustration and doubt. While she didn't enroll in art the following year, finding her path elsewhere, she successfully navigated high school and earned her certificate. She achieved her immediate, necessary goal.

Reflecting on that interaction now, almost twenty years later from my perspective here in Sydney, I recognise its significance. As a naturally shy kid, speaking up didn't always come easily. But in that moment, seeing someone genuinely stuck, I felt compelled to share what I intuitively understood about the creative grind. I told her the truth: that the capability to finish resided entirely within her, regardless of anyone else's perceived talent. All that truly mattered was her willingness to persist.

The Underrated Virtue: Defining Persistence

Sarah learned the tangible power of persistence that week. And I believe, now more firmly than ever, that persistence is one of the most vital, yet chronically undervalued, qualities for achieving any form of meaningful success. It’s the ability to maintain action, to continue applying effort towards a goal despite obstacles, setbacks, or the sheer discomfort of the "messy middle."

This concept is echoed by countless thinkers, leaders, and creators throughout history. While talent might open doors and intelligence might provide insights, it's often persistence that carries us across the threshold. It's the dogged determination to keep going when motivation flags, when progress seems invisible, when doubt whispers insistently in our ear.

The Rock and the Axe: An Analogy for Hidden Progress

One of the most powerful analogies I've encountered for understanding persistence is that of shaping a rock into an axe head. The "rock to axe" comparison in relation to Atomic Habits by James Clear emphasizes the idea of breaking down a difficult task or habit into manageable steps. Just as a rock can seem insurmountable to move, but can be chipped away with repeated effort (like a rock splitter using an axe), so too can a challenging habit change be achieved through the accumulation of small, consistent improvements. 

Every time Sarah picked up her pencil or brush after wanting to quit, she was striking that rock. Each small addition, each corrected line, was an imperceptible micro-fracture in the monolith of the unfinished project. She kept hitting it, perhaps fueled by a flicker of trust that it would eventually yield, and in the end, she had something tangible to show for it. The axe was forged. This applies universally – learning an instrument, building a business, mastering code, writing a thesis. The early stages often feel like hitting impenetrable rock. Progress is invisible until, suddenly, it isn't. Persistence is the force that gets you to that breakthrough point.

Fueling the Fire: Support Systems and Internal Drive

Now, I'm sure Sarah would have found her way to complete the project eventually, even without our conversation. But it underscores another important element: the value of support. Having people around you – mentors, peers, friends, even a quiet classmate offering perspective – who can cheer you on, remind you of your capabilities, and normalize the struggle can be incredibly powerful. They can help maintain momentum when your own reserves are low.

However, external support is fuel, not the engine itself. Ultimately, the decision to persist, to keep striking the rock, comes from within. It requires cultivating a measure of self-belief, a trust in the process, and a focus on completion over perfection, especially during the difficult phases. My role wasn't to fix her project, but perhaps to help her see the potential that her frustration had momentarily obscured, and to remind her that the messy part is just that – a part, not the final word.

Conclusion: Embrace the Grind, Trust the Process

The lesson from that high school art class continues to resonate. Talent is a gift, inspiration is wonderful, but persistence is the superpower available to all of us. It's the commitment to showing up, especially when it's hard. It's understanding that the path to achievement is rarely linear and almost always involves a "messy middle" that looks nothing like the desired end result.

So, the next time you find yourself mired in the difficult phase of a project, battling self-doubt, or feeling like you're hitting solid rock with no visible progress, remember the power of persistence. Trust that each effort, each "strike," is contributing in unseen ways. Embrace the process, cultivate tenacity, and keep hitting the rock. That's where the real transformation happens.