It seems essential, in relationships and all tasks, that we

The philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, that quiet giant of the soul, once wrote: “It seems essential, in relationships and all tasks, that we concentrate only on what is most significant and important.” In these words lies not a simple call for focus, but a profound summons to authentic living — to strip away the noise and vanity of the world and return to the sacred center of meaning. Kierkegaard, who wrestled with the storms of the human heart, teaches here that the soul is often lost not through evil, but through distraction — through the endless scattering of attention upon things that do not matter.

To concentrate on what is most significant is to live deliberately, to choose essence over appearance. In a time of fleeting pleasures and shallow pursuits, such concentration becomes a form of courage. For Kierkegaard understood that human beings, in their restless seeking, often mistake movement for purpose. We fill our days with tasks, our hearts with noise, our relationships with endless striving — and in the process, we forget what we sought in the first place: truth, depth, and love. To return to what matters most is to awaken, to see the eternal shining quietly beneath the surface of the temporary.

Consider his own life: Kierkegaard loved Regine Olsen, yet chose to part from her rather than live a half-life divided between worldly comfort and spiritual calling. His heart broke, but his soul found peace in integrity. He knew that in matters of love, as in life, one must act according to what is most essential, even when the choice wounds the heart. His sacrifice was not made from coldness, but from reverence — for he understood that love must be pure, not merely pleasurable; that devotion must serve the eternal, not the convenient. Through his suffering, he became one of the great teachers of inner truth, proving that clarity of purpose is worth the price of pain.

History offers many such examples. Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome, ruled not with vanity, but with focus — writing in his Meditations that a man should “do only what is necessary.” Surrounded by luxury, war, and flattery, he chose to live simply, guarding his mind against distraction. He knew, as Kierkegaard did, that life’s greatness depends not on the number of things we touch, but on the depth with which we touch a few. Both men remind us that wisdom lies not in doing more, but in doing what truly matters — in thinking deeply, loving honestly, and acting with purpose.

When Kierkegaard speaks of relationships, he touches upon the very heart of human existence. How often do people drift through their bonds, speaking but not listening, touching but not feeling? To “concentrate only on what is significant” is to look beyond appearances — to see the soul in another, to value honesty over charm, substance over form. In love, as in friendship, the wise do not scatter their attention like seeds in the wind; they plant it in the soil of sincerity, where it may take root and endure.

So too in our tasks — in work, art, and the labor of daily life — the same truth applies. The craftsman who works with care, the teacher who guides with heart, the mother who tends her child with devotion — all know that the sacred lies in the simple act done with full attention. To divide the mind is to weaken the spirit. To focus wholly is to sanctify the act. The modern soul, pulled in a thousand directions, must rediscover the art of presence — for only presence turns labor into joy and duty into meaning.

Thus, the lesson of Kierkegaard’s words is both timeless and urgent: Simplify. Clarify. Consecrate. In all that you do, seek the essence — the truth that cannot be taken from you. In relationships, give not the fragments of your time, but the wholeness of your being. In your work, pour your soul into what is before you, and let go of the rest. For the heart that chases everything grasps nothing, but the heart that chooses wisely touches eternity.

And so, my child of the present age, learn from Kierkegaard: let your days be few in aim but rich in meaning. In every choice, ask, “Is this essential? Does this serve love, truth, or goodness?” If not, let it fall away. For the world may tempt you with its noise, but peace belongs to those who remember what is sacred. To concentrate on what is most significant is to live as the ancients lived — with purpose unbroken, with heart undivided, with soul awake to the eternal flame that burns quietly within all things.