Naming Change and Honoring It Through Action
Name the thing you intend to change, then do one small thing today that honors that name. — Toni Morrison
The Power of Naming Our Intentions
Toni Morrison’s line urges us to begin change by naming it. To name something—whether a habit, a fear, or a dream—is to pull it out of the fog of vague dissatisfaction and into conscious focus. Much like in Genesis, where things come into being through being named, Morrison suggests that language is not just descriptive but generative. When we say, “I intend to change my relationship with work,” or “I intend to change how I care for my body,” we draw a boundary between what has been and what could be. This act of definition is the first quiet rebellion against inertia.
From Abstract Desire to Concrete Focus
Once a change is clearly named, its edges become visible, and so do the ways we might approach it. Vague wishes like “I want a better life” can paralyze because they are too large and undefined. By contrast, specifying “I intend to change my morning routine” narrows the field of action and reveals immediate next steps. This shift from abstraction to clarity resembles how writers outline a draft before composing, transforming a formless idea into a project with contours. Naming does not complete the change, but it turns a yearning into a focus that the mind can work with.
Honoring the Name Through Small Actions
Morrison’s second instruction—“do one small thing today that honors that name”—prevents us from getting trapped in ceremonial declarations that never touch daily life. Honoring the name means aligning behavior, however modest, with the intention we have spoken. If the name is “healing,” honoring it might be scheduling a therapy appointment or simply resting without guilt. If the name is “courage,” it might be sending a difficult email. In behavioral science, this echoes the idea of “micro-habits,” where tiny, consistent actions bridge the gap between who we are and who we hope to become (Fogg, *Tiny Habits*, 2019).
The Ethics of Consistency With Ourselves
By pairing naming with immediate action, Morrison also touches on integrity. Each time we name a change and then act in accordance with it, we teach ourselves that our words can be trusted. Conversely, repeatedly naming without acting erodes self-trust, much like broken promises in a relationship. The small deed becomes an ethical gesture toward oneself, a proof that our intentions are not mere performance. Philosopher Harry Frankfurt, in discussing ‘second-order desires’ in *The Importance of What We Care About* (1988), notes that we define ourselves by what we are willing to back with action. Morrison compresses this idea into a daily practice: let today’s behavior testify to what you claim to care about.
Building Momentum Through Daily Rituals
Moreover, Morrison’s emphasis on “today” anchors change in the present, rather than in an indefinitely postponed future. One small honoring action, repeated across days, accumulates into momentum. Over time, these gestures transform from deliberate efforts into identity: you are no longer someone who wants to write, but someone who writes; not someone who dreams of connection, but someone who calls, visits, and listens. This resembles the ‘compound effect’ described by Darren Hardy (2010), where small, consistent choices yield disproportionate results. In this light, Morrison’s quote is less a motivational slogan and more a ritual formula: name the direction, then let each day contribute a tangible, if humble, step along that path.
Reclaiming Agency in Overwhelming Times
Finally, the quote offers a way to reclaim agency when life feels unmanageable. Large-scale problems—personal, social, or political—can make individuals feel powerless. By inviting us to choose a name and take a single honoring action, Morrison restores a sense of scale we can work with. You may not be able to fix systemic injustice today, but you can name “justice” and, for example, learn about one issue, donate a small amount, or support a local effort. In this way, the practice does not trivialize big challenges; instead, it allows us to engage them without being crushed by their size. Change begins not in grand gestures, but in the quiet alignment between what we call important and what we actually do, today.