An Intentional Life

by Lisa Kentgen

  A wonderful non-doing practice is meditating in the morning for twenty to thirty minutes. Other non-doing practices that work for me are weed-whacking or ironing clothes while listening to a classical playlist composed of slower movements. I approach these activities with the intention to engage in what I’m doing without letting my mind wander someplace else. I practice these activities as a meditation. Yes, on some level there is a goal (eliminating weeds). But using an inexpensive weed-whacker doesn’t make a dent on a four-acre plot of land. The point of all these activities is to quiet down my mind and cultivate non-striving. Done in the spirit of wu wei, these activities create feelings of peace and well-being. These non-doing practices also help quiet my mind at other times. They encourage me to bring more deliberateness to my actions when I am moving at a faster pace or acting in a goal-oriented way.

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  Wise effort enables you to have clarity on when and how to act, to feel confident in taking action, and to feel good about it regardless of the immediate results of your action. When you feel free to act, and the impetus for action comes out of a clear awareness of your priorities, the results of your actions don’t matter as much. You trust that you will keep taking conscious and deliberate action which will eventually bear fruit.

  What Kind of Actor Are You?

  Most of us have uneven skills as actors—better able to pursue goals in some areas than in others. For example, some people act in ways that promote well-being in their personal lives but have difficulty doing so at work. Other people have rich friendships but find it difficult to take meaningful action to meet someone for a potential romantic relationship or partnership. You too may feel that you can make the most of opportunities in some areas of your life but not in others. Maybe in some areas you easily take steps toward your goals and in others you can’t even imagine where to begin. You may be confident as an actor in some areas, and insecure in others.

  Every one of us benefits from bringing greater awareness to the way we take action. Bring curiosity to your own style. Doing so will help you experience yourself as the central actor in your life—which is key to experiencing yourself as authentic.

  As you place greater awareness on your style of acting, here are some questions to ask yourself: “What kind of actor am I?” “How do I take action: boldly, tentatively, somewhere in between?” “When am I more likely to be thoughtful and deliberate when I act?” “When do I act in a way that is mindless?” “How have I changed as an actor in the past five years?”

  Sometimes desired outcomes, as well as disappointing outcomes, change the way we approach taking action. Can you think of an outcome that made you bolder, or more timid?

  How do you approach taking action? Do you think about your options at length? Do you go over and over possible outcomes before taking action? Do you act quickly and evaluate after the fact? When would your approach to taking an action benefit from more reflection? When would it benefit from less thinking? How does your approach to taking action change when you perceive greater risk? How does it change when you are really invested in an outcome?

  Can you commit a full month to studying your approach to taking action, and to finding ways you can be more intentional in how you approach and take action? Notice when your actions are intentional and when they are not. Which actions can you take without intention because they are routine? Do you consciously make them routine or are they default actions that weren’t chosen?

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  Historically, I had a style of habitually underestimating how much I did. As a result, I had an inaccurate perception of my actual free time. I would become enthusiastic about a project and make decisions based on my expansive internal state without thinking through the implications for shaping my future time and resources. I loved immersing myself in projects and learning new things. But as I’ve gotten older I have chosen to be more discerning around which projects are most likely to align my interests and values. This has helped me to feel more purposeful. It’s OK to get fired up with enthusiasm, but I don’t always need to act on it. Or I can act on it in smaller, circumscribed ways. Over time, I’ve learned to hone my enthusiasm so that I am more likely to get fired up over projects that jibe with my core values. Importantly, I have also learned to enjoy life when there are no projects.

  An example of how I practiced intentional action was when I took stock after putting a bid on a small, easy-to-maintain bungalow in a bucolic town in the Catskill Mountains. I did this to have year-round access to a larger plot of land which is a haven that restores and inspires me. My time there is spent walking, reading, and simply gazing—in solitude and with loved ones. On the land, there is a non-winterized studio barn and a vintage airstream with breathtaking mountain and valley views. But it is difficult to share with guests because it has no running water.

  I did not build a house on the land because I wanted it to be a place where I enjoyed nature and nothing else—no house projects and no thinking about what’s next. (Though I did spend countless hours designing a house with the help of an architect—only to go with converting the existing barn.) Buying the bungalow helped me combine my desire to spend more time on the land, including in the winter, as well as provide a suitable place for friends and family to stay.

  After my bid on the bungalow was accepted my first response was joy. That joy was quickly coupled with apprehension and doubt. “Would I really be able to maintain the place with little effort?” “Would I lean into creating projects in the house that distracted me from ways I preferred to consciously expend my focus and energy?” “Would I feel free to not visit the house should I want to spend time traveling elsewhere?” And even, “Will I regret this?”

  This fear was a response to a recognition of my old style of jumping into projects that were enriching but also complicated my life. Inevitably, there was the question, “Am I being impulsive?” When doubt is present it is easy to question whether decisive action is actually impulsivity. In this instance, the fear provided an opportunity for further reflection on the spirit in which I had taken action.

  Through direct reflection I saw that the fear was real but likely unfounded. I moved forward because it was possible to have a relationship with this house in a way that honored my wish to live simply and also share my land with others. If I was wrong, I did not have to have a long-term relationship with the house. So far, it has been low maintenance and served the purpose I had hoped it would. I did fire up early on and committed time and resources to renovate it, but did not get caught up in countless design details as I would have in the past. Now, when I find myself imagining new projects for the house (because my mind still loves to create projects), I stop myself. I ask myself directly, “Do I really want to do this?” And the answer generally is “No.”

  Time Out from Habitual Action Leads to Creative Solutions

  Joanne came to therapy in the midst of overwhelming anxiety. Her business was having fluctuations in revenue at the same time that she was implementing costly plans for its expansion. Joanne owned a company that required that she constantly generate new product lines which were produced all over the world. To keep things running smoothly, she traveled frequently. When home, she often woke up in the middle of the night to speak with manufacturing contacts across the world and in different time zones.

  Being entrepreneurial in her line of business nearly assured that Joanne lived with constant stress and uncertainty. Anxiety was familiar to her but its intensity and chronicity was now exacting a painful toll. She recently began seriously questioning the sanity of her lifestyle. Joanne had my name and number for some time, but when she initially heard that I worked with mindfulness, it sounded foreign and counter to knowing herself in a rational way. She kept my number anyway and called when her level of anxiety reached unbearable levels and she was willing to try anything.

  Joanne dedicated herself to the therapeutic process in the same way she approached everything: all in. At th
e time she called me, she also began exercising most days. Therapy and exercise were important pauses for her and ones that, until recently, she could not have imagined making time for. The very act of allowing herself time for self-care was a major shift and therapeutic in and of itself.

  Therapy was a place where Joanne dared to question how she was living. This took courage, and she feared her explorations could lead to dropping the ball on her responsibilities. It was new for her to pause and examine her values and desires without quickly jumping into action to immediately address every challenge. A nagging question at the back of Joanne’s mind was whether she would want to walk away from her current lifestyle.

  Joanne’s anxiety quickly lowered to much more manageable levels, but her discomfort did not. She had the insight that she valued a certain amount of baseline anxiety because it motivated her. This insight led to an important exploration of Joanne’s beliefs about what made her successful, and how her answers were at odds with feeling ease and spontaneity. Joanne learned to pause and ask herself how she experienced things as they were happening. Pausing, without acting, initially led to a sense of feeling lost that she didn’t like. Still, Joanne persisted and practiced tolerating discomfort without acting. On some level, she intuited that this was an important practice for her.

  Eventually, her experience shifted from feeling lost in a way that was not OK to feeling lost in a way that was OK, and maybe even beneficial. What felt like “lost” was actually not acting in a driven way, which was Joanne’s habitual way of moving toward her goals. This lost but OK feeling was an experience of non-striving, which alternated between feeling aimless and having the experience that something important was happening. Joanne came to understand that stepping back from habitual action was uncomfortable but not passive—far from it. Yes, she was stepping back from her business activities in some ways. But, because of it, she was coming to notice new possibilities. Internally Joanne was moving toward a major shift in how she conducted business.

  In her newfound capacity to pause, Joanne was making room for changes that she considered in the past, but they had seemed like distant possibilities. Acting with greater intention provided the framework to make bold decisions. Joanne began to allow others in the company to step up more, and even requested that they do so. She focused her awareness on ways of taking action to support staff in their efforts to solve challenges and problems more autonomously. She provided guidance which initially required greater effort on her part. It was important that the people around her understood the implications of Joanne’s internal shifts in terms of what it meant for their job responsibilities. She accepted that some changes in personnel roles were needed and practiced kind and direct ways to deliver difficult information to employees who resisted the shifts that were happening.

  For some time, it remained a challenge for Joanne to step back from her identity as the main problem-solver. Stepping back from action was not inaction, but instead a radical shift in how she approached and expended her efforts within the company that she built.

  She gradually shifted from a stance of addressing a crisis, which was the experience of out-of-control anxiety, to one of radically shifting how she acted in her life. This is wise effort. Joanne fundamentally transformed her drive to act. She still feels the urge to jump into action without pausing. But now she notices it and has greater choice in how to act (or not act).

  Joanne learned to identify different ways of directing her efforts that led to radical change. First, she developed the capacity to pause before acting. Joanne now understood that action that is not driven, or reactive, leads to greater ease and well-being. She took a leap of faith and practiced letting go of striving, and saw that she could still work hard and act on her behalf. She now understood that non-striving was not the same as disengaging, and in some ways took greater effort. Joanne’s commitment to learn to act with greater intention opened up new opportunities for her in business. Most importantly, by becoming an intentional actor she made room for a new, freer way of acting in the world.

  How to Proactively Act, Rather Than React

  When you react rather than proactively act, the outcome of your action comes at an emotional cost, even if you get the results you wanted. When you are reactive, there is an urgent sense that action must be taken immediately. You are more likely to lash out. Sometimes acting out of a place of reactivity gives temporary relief but ultimately make you feel worse. Examples of actions that arise from reactive states are: unskillfully confronting someone; trying to be right; or overpowering someone else in words or actions.

  Wise action requires the opposite of reactivity. It demands restraint. Sometimes action is urgently needed but most of the time it is not. It only feels that way. Most of the time, stepping back and creating more internal space—stepping back from reactivity—is what is most urgently needed. Pausing from reactivity prepares you for those infrequent times that urgent action is required.

  Reactivity is often caused by negative emotions, but not always. Anger and related emotions such as resentment, chronic annoyance, anxiety, and irritation create the internal conditions that prime us to be reactive. Emotions like fear and shame can lead to reactivity because they make us feel small and lead to responding from a one-down position. Anticipating difficult interactions can also prime us to respond reactively. Negative emotions are not inherently problematic. But if we don’t have practice in working with them, it can be difficult to skillfully respond to them.

  Stress of all kinds can lead to reactivity, and hectic lives leave little internal room to respond with equanimity. It is important to create the conditions that minimize unnecessary stressors. Positive events can also cause stress as we try to make room for them. We see this with children who sometimes have emotionally challenging moments after a long, exciting day. They can have difficulty regulating that much excitement and it can turn to irritability and tears. The same applies for adults when stretched to their limits. When we have chronically busy schedules, even if filled with things that we enjoy and value, it is difficult to practice wise effort. To live intentionally, we need to take meaningful action that will obviate the negative impact of stress in our lives.

  Painful and traumatic experiences from the past can also prime us to be reactive in certain situations. Our bodies respond with cellular memories of the pain or trauma that are lightning-fast and intransigent. Under these circumstances, we might need help practicing non-reactivity when our bodies respond to stressors from the past, even if the present circumstances are different. The practice of moving toward less reactivity under these circumstances can be painfully slow and we need to be patient and compassionate with ourselves. Our bodies can continue to trigger us for a long time.

  We cannot quickly change our bodies’ response to being triggered. What can change under these circumstances is our response after being triggered. Intentional practices can mediate our corresponding actions to triggers so that they become more skillful and less reactive. Over time, our internal response can also begin to change as we break the external cycle of reactive action.

  An intentional life is not devoid of reactivity. It is, instead, a commitment to understand the conditions that make you reactive. With understanding, you practice pausing as a way to create internal space and dispassionate distance from the reactivity, so that you don’t act out of the unhelpful urgency of this state. An important way to do this is by bringing compassion to yourself when you are in the midst of feeling reactive.

  An internal experience of reactivity is not inherently problematic. Sometimes the experience of reactivity has something important to tell you. Maybe you haven’t been paying attention to your feelings or some external situation that needs your attention. Don’t judge or dismiss the experience of reactivity. But also don’t be controlled by it. You generally have more options than perceived while in the urgency of this state. Remember that your ability to act with intention is hampered when f
eeling reactive. If you react, rather than act with intention, the outcomes—even if positive—don’t enrich you as they would if you had acted from a proactive, grounded place.

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  When Liam turned fifty, he was pleasantly surprised to feel deep happiness when he reflected upon how he now experienced himself and his life. He felt content, was clear on his priorities, and had worked hard to make time for them. For the past two years, Liam had practiced intentional action in order to enjoy his life more. And, then, a few months after his birthday, it was as if the contentment had vanished. As was his style, Liam had taken on more projects than he could sustain in a healthy way. His levels of stress, which made him irritable, were now interfering with his close relationships and his enjoyment of life.

  Liam generated a list of all his activities that required a time commitment. His practices in intentional action up until now did not include actually listing his activities and how much time he gave to them. Liam knew he was productive but was taken aback when he placed his awareness on the sheer number of activities. For example, outside of his job and family commitments, he had numerous roles in committees and on boards. While he valued these activities, he knew that something had to give. He knew that he would continue to repeat this pattern of reactivity if he did not take a new approach.

  Liam chose a radical approach to free up commitments, including considering early retirement. Even thinking through on this possibility helped him see that, while he wasn’t ready to retire, he wanted to continue working full-time only if he could transform his approach to his job. He had already taken small steps but recognized he now needed to take more definitive action. Liam spoke to a fellow senior partner and there was surprisingly little resistance. But it was up to Liam to implement the changes. He needed to turn over some of his day-to-day responsibilities to junior colleagues. Liam also met with colleagues in other organizations and let them know that he needed to make a substantive shift in his time commitments, even if it meant stepping away. He was touched to discover how he was valued and how colleagues took it upon themselves to create less taxing ways for Liam to stay involved.