Facta Non Verba

Three simple Latin words that have been percolating in my mind for the last few weeks: Deeds Over Words.

It is the motto of JTF2; Canada’s elite special operation unit, where no one earns their place simply by talking about it.

I keep returning to that saying lately, as my lens is turned more inwardly these days. I have been quietly watching the space between what I say and what I actually do, that distance between intention and action, between what I tell myself I want and the choices I make that either carry me toward it or lead me somewhere else entirely.

It is with that same watchful and steady eye that I have found myself noticing this in the people around me too, in the gap between what they say and what they do.

And it can be quite telling.

Intention is a lovely thing. It can be heartfelt and sincere, even beautiful, and we can mean every single word when we speak.

We can hold the very best intentions in the words we say. Yet if there is no action behind them, I find myself wondering what it truly means, and how the things we say we want could ever come into form if we don’t take action in creating them.

We see this everywhere once we start looking. We see it at work, in our health, in our relationship with money and in the promises we make to ourselves.

But perhaps we see it most profoundly in our most intimate relationships.

Over the last thirty years I have played at more weddings than I could possibly remember, and each one has been somebody’s perfect day, a celebration overflowing with promises.

There were candles and flowers, food and wine, dresses and suits, along with the beautiful words spoken in front of the people who mattered most. All of it designed to demonstrate, in action and in words, a love and commitment to one another in that moment.

And yet somewhere along the way, some of those promises are forgotten.

Some relationships slowly unravel, and some people abandon, cheat, lie, betray, withdraw, or simply stop showing up.

It is easy to look at divorce statistics and wonder what happens between the promise and the outcome.

Yet there is no single answer to a question that deep.

Our relationships, our choices, our wounds, our circumstances and our capacity for commitment all live along a wide spectrum of reasons why things come to be.

Underneath so much of it, though, there is something worth examining, and it brings me back to those three words and the quiet strength and unwavering truth of actions over words.

If we truly mean something, what if we stopped saying it and simply showed it?

How many times have we trusted what someone told us, believing their words and feeling the sincerity of their intention, only to be left hurt and confused when their actions didn’t match?

And how many times have we ourselves promised something with the fullest intention in our hearts, only to do the complete opposite, or never follow through at all?

It is an uncomfortable question, because it turns the lens right back toward us, as all things are a mirror for the truth that lies within.

I have been imagining what it might be like to move through our days without talking at all, communicating solely through our actions.

I wonder whether we would see more clearly and act more purposefully.

I wonder whether we would pause and reflect, letting our emotions settle before choosing a direction.

I wonder whether we would trust more wholeheartedly and love more deeply.

Perhaps we would even grow more patient with time and with the way things need to unfold slowly before they come to fruition.

And perhaps we would become more honourable in our actions, examining what we actually do rather than deflecting, explaining, or hiding behind our words.

It is interesting, isn’t it, this space between what we say and what we actually do.

But that is where the real work happens.

The work isn’t found in what you think you should do, or in what you tell people you are going to do, or even in what you intend to do.

It is found in what you actually do, in how you want to act, what you want to create, and who you want to be.

If your intentions are in fact true, I mean deeply and honestly true, then eventually they have to go the distance.

Your actions align with your words, your choices support them, and over time your life begins to look like the very thing you said you wanted.

And that is the moment intention becomes something more than an idea.

So much of this comes down to the difference between what we want and what we think we need.

We need water, air, shelter and food, yet even those most basic needs, with the obvious exception of the air we breathe, require action to bring them into our lives.

You cannot simply intend to have food; you have to find it, bring it home and prepare it.

You cannot intend to have shelter without taking some action to create or find it.

But beyond those basics, so much of the rest of our lives is shaped by what we want, and wants, by their very nature, require action.

Perhaps looking at your life and the people around you through the lens of facta non verba is really an invitation to distinguish the talkers from the doers.

It asks us to notice who walks their talk and to notice, with equal honesty, where we walk our own.

Do you believe everything someone says, or do you pay attention to what they consistently do? Do you take action behind the things you say you want, and do you keep taking that action long after the excitement has faded?

Do your actions support your intentions, or do they quietly contradict them?

And then there is perhaps the hardest question of all: if someone never heard another word you said, would they know what you wanted or who you were, simply by watching what you did?

Words come easily, and so do intentions and promises, but the doing is where the truth is really told.

So maybe today, instead of saying what you are going to do, you might simply do it and see what follows, and let your deeds take precedence over your words.

Because in the end, our lives are always showing us the truth, not in our verba, but in the facta we do.