Day 222: Follow the Energy
Week 2 Theme: Taking Inspired Action
Guiding Thought: Small steps are sacred steps.
Scene & Symbol
It didn’t begin with a desert, or a flower, or the sweeping skies of New Mexico. It began in a small classroom in Columbia, South Carolina, with a piece of charcoal and a teacher who was tired of following the plan.
In 1915, Georgia O’Keeffe was 28 years old, teaching art at a women’s college. Her days were orderly, her instruction methodical: perspective, proportion, shading. The safe vocabulary of academic art. She had been trained to replicate reality with precision, and she was good at it. Too good, maybe. Because somewhere between the careful outlines and the rules about how light should fall, the work had gone flat.
It wasn’t that she lacked discipline; she had it in spades. It was that the discipline had slowly crowded out her own curiosity. She was producing what she thought she should, not what she felt compelled to explore. One evening, alone in her classroom, she picked up a stick of charcoal and a sheet of paper and instead of working on the still life she’d planned, she started drawing shapes she couldn’t name. Lines that curved and swelled and cut across the page without permission from perspective. She didn’t begin with an image in her mind. She began with the movement of her own hand.
That night, something shifted. She came back the next evening and the next, chasing that same current. The drawings were abstract, fluid, almost musical in form. They looked nothing like the careful realism she’d mastered, and she didn’t know if they were “good” by anyone’s standards. That wasn’t the point.
She was following something she could feel but not yet define.
In an art world that rewarded technical skill over raw instinct, this was quiet rebellion. It was also the most alive she had felt in years.
A few months later, she sent a handful of those charcoal drawings to a friend in New York. That friend showed them to Alfred Stieglitz, a leading figure in modern art photography and gallery owner. Without telling her, Stieglitz hung them in his gallery. When O’Keeffe found out, she was stunned. The pieces that had felt like a private experiment (i.e. a secret conversation between herself and the paper) had been placed on public display.
Those drawings would mark the beginning of her career as one of America’s most celebrated modernists. They would lead her toward the flowers and landscapes and bold abstractions that would define her legacy. But the turning point wasn’t the exhibition. It wasn’t Stieglitz. It wasn’t the recognition.
The real turning point was the moment she stopped forcing herself to finish the work she thought she was “supposed” to make, and instead followed the energy toward what felt alive in her hands.
That’s the part of the story we often skip over when we talk about O’Keeffe or anyone whose work shaped the culture. We see the finished paintings, the museum walls, the critical acclaim. But the shift began with an unplanned evening, a stick of charcoal, and the willingness to let her attention wander into unfamiliar territory. It’s tempting to think that taking inspired action means charging forward with a clear plan, a mapped-out vision. But more often, it means being awake enough to notice when the current changes and being willing to step into it, even if it carries you away from the safety of your outline. Following the energy is not the same as chasing whims. Whim fades; energy sustains. It’s the hum beneath your ribs when you’re working on something that matters. It’s the ease in your body when the task feels like a fit. It’s the curiosity that makes an hour disappear without checking the clock.
The trouble is, most of us are trained to override those signals. We tell ourselves to stick with the plan, to finish what we started, to stay on the “right” track even if the track has gone cold. We’re taught that shifting focus is weakness, that changing direction is failure, that discipline means keeping our heads down no matter what. And yet, the work that changes us and often, the work that changes the world, rarely comes from pushing harder against resistance. It comes from noticing where something in us says yes, and having the courage to move toward it.
O’Keeffe didn’t abandon discipline when she followed that pull; she redirected it. Once she found the current, she brought all her skill and focus to meeting it. That combination of energy plus discipline was what gave her work its power.
We all have these moments. A conversation that lights us up more than the one we were “supposed” to have. A side project that feels more alive than the one with the deadline. An idea that arrives uninvited but won’t let go. The question is: Will we follow it? Because following the energy doesn’t guarantee ease. O’Keeffe’s choice led her into a style that critics initially didn’t understand. It meant rethinking her place in the art world. It meant risk. But it also meant work that pulsed with vitality; work that sustained her for decades, long after the moment of choice. Her story reminds us: Sometimes the step that changes everything isn’t the one we planned. It’s the one that feels most alive in the moment and the one we have the courage to take.
The Cultural Spell
We live in a culture that worships the finish line. From the first day of school, we’re praised for completed worksheets, gold stars, perfect attendance. Later, it’s project deadlines, quarterly goals, KPIs. The message is clear: worth is measured in deliverables, not discovery. This spell has been reinforced for centuries. The Protestant work ethic valorized endurance over enjoyment; keep your head down, push through, don’t get distracted. The industrial age turned workers into cogs, each assigned to a fixed task on a fixed line. The 20th century corporate ladder taught us to climb in straight lines, never sideways.
Now, in the age of productivity apps, habit trackers, and “grind culture,” we’ve simply digitized the same mentality. We close our Apple Watch rings, hit our Duolingo streaks, and log our steps even if we’re no longer enjoying the process. Consistency becomes a virtue even when the consistency is draining us. Social media has amplified it. Instagram rewards the polished “after,” not the messy middle. TikTok’s algorithm favors content that fits a predictable format. We’re trained to optimize for the audience, not our own energy. The pressure to “finish what we start” is now public; we fear the visible pivot because it might signal flakiness.
But here’s the paradox: many of the cultural moments we romanticize didn’t follow a linear plan.
Beyoncé’s Lemonade began with her exploring deeply personal themes that didn’t fit the mold of a typical pop album; the project shifted and expanded as she followed that creative current.
Steve Jobs famously dropped in on a calligraphy class that had nothing to do with his “plan,” but following that spark influenced the typography-driven design ethos of Apple.
Lin-Manuel Miranda didn’t set out to write Hamilton; he picked up Ron Chernow’s biography as vacation reading, then followed the energy of its story into one of Broadway’s biggest cultural phenomena.
Even scientific breakthroughs like Alexander Fleming’s discovery of penicillin or Vera Rubin’s work on dark matter began because someone pursued an unexpected lead instead of forcing the original agenda.
Yet most of us still resist this mode of working. Why?
Because our culture equates changing direction with losing direction. The unspoken script says:
“If you switch projects, you lack focus.”
“If you follow curiosity, you’re being indulgent.”
“If you step off the plan, you’ll never get back on.”
But energy is a compass, not a distraction. In Japanese culture, the concept of ikigai (one’s reason for being) acknowledges that fulfillment comes from the intersection of what you love, what you’re good at, what the world needs, and what sustains you. That first element (what you love ) is often the spark we suppress in the name of productivity.
Our ancestors knew better. Indigenous agricultural traditions planted “the three sisters” of corn, beans, and squash together because they grew better in each other’s presence. The principle was symbiotic energy, not rigid rows. Nature itself follows the path of least resistance; rivers carve the easiest course, trees bend toward the light.
When we ignore these currents, we may still finish the race, but often at the cost of joy, creativity, and even the quality of the outcome. When we follow them, the work may still be hard but it feels alive. The spell we must break is this: the belief that discipline means ignoring the body’s and mind’s signals in order to “push through.” The deeper truth is that discipline is most powerful when paired with discernment. The current is already there. The skill is in noticing it and having the courage to adjust our sails.
Truth Science
Why “follow the energy” isn’t indulgence; it’s evidence-based. When you align action with what feels alive (interest, curiosity, meaningful challenge), you’re tapping into mechanisms that reliably increase focus, creativity, persistence, and progress.
Flow: When challenge meets true interest – Psychologist Mihály Csíkszentmihályi described flow as an optimal state of deep absorption that arises when a task’s challenge is well matched to your skills, goals are clear, and feedback is immediate. In flow, attention narrows to what matters and time feels altered; people report peak performance and enjoyment. Meta-analyses confirm: energy + the right level of difficulty = traction.
Positive emotion widens your field of view – Barbara Fredrickson’s broaden-and-build theory shows that positive states like interest and joy expand our momentary thought–action repertoire, making us more exploratory and resourceful. Over time, this “broadening” builds durable personal resources such as cognitive, social, and psychological that you can draw on for future challenges.
Motivation is a loop fueled by progress – Dopamine spikes not just when you reach a goal, but when you make meaningful progress. Small, surprising wins reinforce motivation, creating a virtuous cycle. Teresa Amabile’s progress principle echoes this even tiny steps forward in meaningful work create disproportionately large boosts in engagement.
Autonomy supercharges persistence – Self-Determination Theory (Deci & Ryan) finds that intrinsic motivation flourishes when three needs are met: autonomy, competence, and relatedness. Following the energy often increases autonomy and perceived competence; two levers that predict greater persistence and well-being.
Interest is a skill you can cultivate – Hidi & Renninger’s Four-Phase Model shows interest evolves from a triggered spark → maintained situational interest → emerging individual interest → well-developed individual interest. Each step toward what energizes you makes future engagement easier.
Plan the spark into action – Research on implementation intentions (“If situation Y, then I will do X”) shows strong effects on goal attainment. Pairing energy with a concrete trigger turns inspiration into behavior.
Why pushing through the wrong task drains you – Cognitive science calls it attention residue: part of your mind stays stuck on the more compelling task you abandoned, degrading performance on the one you force yourself to do.
“Low energy” can be rational feedback – Effort and fatigue often reflect opportunity costs: your brain is signaling that your time might be better spent elsewhere. Sometimes the right move is rest; sometimes it’s rerouting toward higher-value work.
The headline truth: Energy is data. Pair it with structure (clear goals, right-sized challenge, if–then cues), and you don’t just feel better, you perform better and stick with it longer.
Practice / Rehearsal: How to Follow the Energy Today
This is not about chasing every passing whim. It’s about tuning in to what feels alive in your body and mind and giving yourself permission to take one small, sacred step toward it.
Scan for Spark – Before opening your laptop, pause. Breathe. Ask: “What am I genuinely drawn to today?” Notice sensations like a lift in your chest, a quickening of thought. That’s your compass.
Name It – Write it down. Naming interrupts the habit of dismissing your own signals.
Shrink the Step – Choose a micro-action under 10 minutes.
Pair It with a Cue – Anchor it with an implementation intention: “If it’s 3:00 p.m., I will…”
Honor the Act, Not the Outcome – When done, say aloud: “I followed the energy. That was wise.” Let your body register the choice.
Closing Echo
Georgia O’Keeffe didn’t know her charcoal curves would hang in a New York gallery. She only knew they made her feel alive in the moment she made them.
The world will always try to pull you toward plans, checklists, and “shoulds.” But the work that sustains you and often the work that changes you, comes from honoring the current that’s already moving within you. Today, let the measure of your success be this: Did I notice where the energy was, and did I follow it? One spark. One step. One choice to move in the direction of aliveness. That’s enough.
Share in the comments: What’s one small action you’ll take today that follows your energy? Your answer might be the nudge someone else has been waiting for.
#LucivaraPurpose #FollowTheEnergy #InspiredAction #SmallStepsSacredSteps #FlowState #CreativeCourage #PurposeInMotion #EnergyIsACompass #LucivaraOfficial
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References
Csíkszentmihályi, M. (1990). Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience. Harper & Row.
Fredrickson, B. L. (2001). The role of positive emotions in positive psychology: The broaden-and-build theory of positive emotions. American Psychologist, 56(3), 218–226.
Amabile, T. M., & Kramer, S. J. (2011). The Progress Principle: Using Small Wins to Ignite Joy, Engagement, and Creativity at Work. Harvard Business Review Press.
Deci, E. L., & Ryan, R. M. (2000). The “what” and “why” of goal pursuits: Human needs and the self-determination of behavior. Psychological Inquiry, 11(4), 227–268.
Hidi, S., & Renninger, K. A. (2006). The Four-Phase Model of Interest Development. Educational Psychologist, 41(2), 111–127.
Gollwitzer, P. M. (1999). Implementation intentions: Strong effects of simple plans. American Psychologist, 54(7), 493–503.
Leroy, S. (2009). Why is it so hard to do my work? The challenge of attention residue when switching between work tasks. Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes, 109(2), 168–181.
Kurzban, R., Duckworth, A., Kable, J. W., & Myers, J. (2013). An opportunity cost model of subjective effort and task performance. Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 36(6), 661–679.
