When I started redesigning my productivity system, I began to ask myself how it should actually work. One of the key questions was whether it should focus more on promoting intention, effort, or the end result itself.

Finding the answer turned out to be harder than I expected. The arguments on all sides made sense. The Stoics argue that intention is what matters most, because it’s the only thing we truly control. We don’t have full influence over outcomes—not even over whether we’ll be able to follow through with what we planned. External circumstances can easily get in the way. But our mindset and will (prohairesis) are fully ours.

Since I like Stoicism, it’s hard for me to disagree. But at the same time, I can’t ignore the fact that we live in a world obsessed with results. Advocates of the “only the outcome counts” mindset will say it’s better to act effectively than to mean well. For them, intentions and effort remain invisible until they produce something real. When you go to a doctor, you expect to get better—not just hear that they tried hard.

Somewhere between those extremes, you’ll find the existentialists. Intention matters to them too, but only if it’s followed by action—otherwise it’s just an illusion. Action reveals the truth. We often have noble intentions—to quit smoking, to start running—but end up doing very little. It’s not even about breaking records. It’s about the fact that we don’t take that first step at all.

I’m familiar with the different perspectives by now, so it’s time for some conclusions. What matters most? Well, I believe all three stages deserve equal attention. It’s not a ranking—it’s a cycle: intention gives meaning, action creates movement, the result shows whether it’s working—and feeds the next intention.

But... depending on the context, each part of that cycle might take on more or less weight.

For the individual, intention and the effort to follow through matter most. Getting overly fixated on outcomes can be destructive, because so much of the result depends on factors beyond our control. Realizing we don’t have full control over outcomes can actually be liberating. It helps us avoid unnecessary frustration.

Rewarding effort—not just results—reduces fear of failure, weakens perfectionism, and makes us more willing to try new things. And often, the greater the effort, the deeper the satisfaction. Would you really enjoy winning a race if you were the only one running?

Sometimes, results just aren’t within reach. Think of scientists—many of them died before they saw the results of what they’d dedicated their lives to. Or artists who were only recognized after their deaths. Would they have kept going if they measured value only by outcomes?

No effort is ever wasted—even when the result falls short. We often don’t realize that something we learned years ago ended up saving us from making a serious mistake later.

But the world sees the outcome of our intentions and actions. You can have good intentions and put in a ton of work—but if you don’t deliver, well… you don’t deliver. That’s how reality works, whether we like it or not.

You expect a doctor to heal you, not just to try hard. You expect a teammate to follow through, not just to mean well. You expect a product to work, not just to be made with passion.

In those contexts, results become the only shared language. Without them, it’s hard to build trust, credibility, or a sense of purpose in a team. After all, how do you tell the difference between responsibility and incompetence—if not by the outcome?

Context matters—sometimes intention is what counts, sometimes it’s the result, and sometimes it’s the action itself that tells you the most. But we can’t afford to fall into extremes and forget the other elements that complete the cycle.

That’s why my productivity system won’t be about “winning” a single round—it’ll be about playing the long, infinite game more wisely. A game where I want to act in alignment with myself, learn from what works (and what doesn’t), and return to the intention that gives direction. Not to be perfect—just to keep going. Better, more consciously, more on my own terms.