Living With Intention in a World That Wants You Distracted

Living With Intention in a World That Wants You Distracted

By Michael Jason Pascual

There’s something quietly powerful about living with intention.

Not hustle or grind. Nothing loud or flashy.
Just moving deliberately through the world, one thoughtful step at a time.

It’s challenging, though—especially when everything around you is designed to capture your attention or push you in directions you never really chose. Distraction is easy. It’s subtle, persistent, and always available.

But learning to choose your focus—that’s where life starts feeling meaningful again.

My Tuesdays Are Special

Tuesday is my favorite day. It’s my day off from my job as a janitor supervisor at the church, and it’s the day I’ve carved out space for myself.

In the morning, I spend about three hours working out—usually fasted, just enjoying the clarity it brings. Afterward, I take my time having a meal, maybe a nap, or writing quietly. Later, I pick up my grandson from school, and we head over to his obstacle course program together. Especially when I have time for myself, I take care of the people and things that are important to me.

Intention isn’t complicated—it’s simply choosing how you spend your time instead of letting it slip away.

Navigating Distractions

Distraction, for me, rarely looks like the obvious things—like social media or Netflix. Often, it’s subtler: stress from work, friction with people, or my own insecurities.

Sometimes it’s my ego, quietly insisting that I must always have things under control. Sometimes it’s my imposter syndrome, gently whispering that what I’m creating might not be good enough yet. I’ve found myself hesitating over a blog post because it’s not “perfect,” even though perfection isn’t the point.

Learning to live intentionally means recognizing those subtle voices. It’s understanding them, accepting they exist, and gently moving forward anyway.

Quiet Discipline

A lot of the habits that keep me grounded aren’t especially noticeable.

Fasting and prayer are two quiet rituals I’ve built into my life—not because I think they make me better, but because they help me stay clear. When I fast, it helps me understand discipline in a personal way. When I pray, it reminds me to be grateful, even when things feel challenging.

I also appreciate doing things that feel difficult, not because I want recognition, but simply because I remember vividly how it felt when I let myself slip into comfort and stopped growing. I lost opportunities, confidence, and my physical health. Slowly, I’ve rebuilt them—carefully, intentionally, and thoughtfully.

Tools I Carry With Me

If you looked inside, you’d see I value loyalty—both in myself and others. Not loyalty in a heavy sense, but just the quiet reliability of people who show up consistently. I also rely on routine, because it gives structure and clarity to my days. Curiosity is another important tool: it helps me see the world with fresh eyes and keeps life interesting.

Patience is still something I’m working on—but even that, I approach gently now.

What’s No Longer Extra

There was a time when exercise felt like something extra—a luxury I didn’t think I needed. Now I recognize it as essential to my well-being.

I feel similarly about small, thoughtful luxuries—like a jacket made carefully from Japanese selvedge denim, a leather lanyard crafted with attention, or a pair of good boots. They’re small gifts to myself—reminders that it’s okay to appreciate things that last. They don’t define me, but they quietly reflect the care I’ve learned to have for myself.

These small choices have become gentle anchors in my daily life.

When I Drift

Of course, there are days when I lose focus. That’s normal. The signs are subtle—a feeling of heaviness, aimlessness, or the urge to escape.

When I notice these feelings, I simply come back to small, grounding activities—movement, breathing, prayer, or writing. It’s never dramatic; just gently steering myself back toward intention.

Quietly Seeking Meaning

If there’s something I believe many of us are quietly looking for, it’s simply this: meaningful motion. Not chasing validation or achievements, but feeling like we’re truly moving through life with purpose.

We don’t want to follow someone else’s path or impress others. We just want to create a life that feels true—at our own pace, in our own way, without pressure or performance.

This isn’t a midlife crisis—it’s a quiet awakening to how good life can feel when it’s intentionally lived.

Final Thought

If I could offer you one quiet reminder, it would be this:

Keep gently tinkering until things feel right.
You don’t have to rush. You’re not behind.
Every careful step matters—and you’re already moving in the right direction.

– Skwally