The Truth About Intentions
Today, the word that came to my mind was intentions.
For a long time, I have worked—or tried to work—on concepts like life and intention. This was something I encountered during my spiritual journey, and I found it deeply enticing: the idea that intentions play a powerful role in our decision-making, our actions, and even our emotions. Often, we are governed more by our intentions than by our actions.
But lately, I have had experiences with intentions—especially when they are put into action—and I began to notice what they can actually lead to.
I started learning how to live my life with intention, just like many other values I consciously began to practice. I applied intentions to everything: conversations, situations, responses, people, relationships, and everyday moments. A particular conversation with a very close friend led me to an important realization: intention does not equal readiness in another person.
One of my conversations was not received well by my friend. I returned to self-inquiry, asking myself again and again—what was my intention? And if my intention was genuinely good, why wasn’t it received the way I meant it to be?
That was when I realized something even more important than intention: readiness.
Is it possible that no matter how pure or well-meaning my intentions are, they may still not be received as intended because the other person simply isn’t ready?
My childlike belief in the goodness of my intentions—wanting the best for others—was often mixed with people-pleasing, or with quietly running after approval. When I looked closely, I noticed that while working with intentions did bring clarity by clearing many assumptions about how conversations should go, intention itself sometimes became a subtle shield.
I would say things like, “But I really wanted what was best for them.” And yet, if I truly wanted the best, why wasn’t I allowing them the space to decide what was best for them?
If my intention is genuinely to want the best for someone, it must begin with letting them be. Real love is exactly that—even when it doesn’t align with my mental expectations, even when it is misunderstood.
Self-inquiry is a powerful tool.
I also realized that intention can quietly become a trap of the ego. Intention must be free of attachment to outcomes—devoid of emotional wanting for a specific response or result.
Only then can intention be pure and authentic, charged with the energy of true love—a love that is always within us, yet often feels out of reach.
I also saw that the desire to change people, even “for their own good,” often comes from a much deeper place—so deeply conditioned that we don’t even recognize it. A hidden centre, worn and twisted, still operating through self-fulfilling patterns.
I noticed that many attempts—mine included—to save others or make them change were rooted in a subtle need: See me. Love me. Appreciate me because I have been good to you.
Have you noticed the
This doesn’t mean we stop caring or loving others. But before we do that, have we cared for ourselves? Loved ourselves? Looked honestly at where we are operating from?
When we clearly see the source of our intention, it becomes clean. Otherwise, what we call intention may actually be fear or desire underneath. And once this is seen, it becomes easier to form an intention that is free—and easier to let people be as they are.
This is how we stop equating intention with readiness.
I now understand—or am still learning—that intention alone is not enough. Readiness in the other person matters. And if they are not ready, my intention of wanting the best for them is still enough.
You can hold the best intentions for someone, and they may still choose differently. And that choice may still be right for them—even if they don’t choose you back, even if they choose distance after you have expressed yourself.
In the end, I realized that it is not just intention that matters. What truly matters is the clarity of the source from which that intention arises.
Find it for yourself.
I’ll see you soon.