How to Action
Most days, it's easy to focus on the surface. The task in front of me, the commitment in my calendar, the decision needing to be made. And so I go ahead. I move, I speak, I act. But lately, I’ve been pausing more often to consider what I’m actually bringing to those actions. What sits underneath them, influencing the action.
There’s the action I take. And then there’s the energy behind that action. I've begun to notice just how different the experience can be when the energy shifts, even when the action looks exactly the same.
Going to the gym has been a regular part of my routine for years. But recently, I’ve started to notice the quiet but powerful force that determines whether I leave feeling full or depleted. Some days, the energy is light, even excited. I'm curious to move, curious to see what my body can do, glad to have music in my ears and time to myself. Those days, I exert a lot of energy, yet somehow leave even more energized.
Other days, I show up from a place that feels heavier. The motivation is fear. Fear of what might happen if I don’t go, fear of losing momentum, of not being enough. And while the workout may look the same from the outside, when I leave, I feel drained. Like something was taken, not given. Same action. Different energy.
I’ve started to see this pattern show up in other places.
In conversations, in decisions, in everyday interactions. Whether I’m responding to an email, moving through a crowded airport, or offering support to someone else, there’s always something humming underneath. I didn’t used to pay attention to this. But now I am starting to.
A few weeks ago, I watched a young child being asked to clean up their toys. The parent’s words were kind, but the energy behind them wasn’t. There was stress, frustration, and impatience barely hidden beneath the surface. The child pushed back. Not against the request, but, as I sensed it, against the energy. It reminded me of moments in my own life when I’ve said all the right things but felt none of the alignment. And wondered later why it didn’t land.
Behind every decision is a reason, but behind every reason is a tone. That tone isn’t always logical. It’s emotional, intuitive, wordless. It doesn’t always emerge in a coherent sentence, but it’s always there, like background music I didn’t know was playing until I leave the room.
Lately, I’ve begun asking myself: what is my real intention here? Not the stated reason, or the justification, but the quiet motivation beneath the surface. Am I writing this because I want to share, or because I need to be seen? Am I saying yes from generosity or from fear of missing out? Am I praying out of surrender or out of panic?
Sometimes the answers surprise me. And the simple act of noticing often shifts something. It’s not about correcting or editing the intention, not in a performative sense. It’s more like an unconscious pattern stepping into the light. The intention softens. Clarifies. Comes into alignment on its own.
I used to think an action was enough. That doing the thing carried its own virtue. But now I’m starting to see that action is only part of the experience. The intention shapes the weight of it, its reception, its echo.
There have been moments when I paused long enough to sense that I was about to act from fear. A speaking engagement accepted out of anxiety rather than joy. A message composed from insecurity rather than care. And I’ve found that bringing attention to this intention sometimes changes the action itself. At the very least, it changes how I feel about it.
Even silence can carry intention. Not speaking out of restraint is different than not speaking out of indifference. And I think others feel that, just as I do.
This reflection hasn’t made me perfect or consistent. But it’s made me more aware. And with awareness comes choice. Not a forced choice, but a natural one. When the action aligns with a true intention, it feels quieter. Lighter. Whole.
It’s not about doing better. It’s about being honest. About noticing what I’m truly bringing to each moment. When I don’t, then fear, habit, or ego will decide for me.
And that is how I learned to Action.
