Lately, I’ve been carrying stories from clients that shook me.
Two leaders in moments of deep personal vulnerability. Both pushed past their limits— not by the demands of their work, but by the demands of their bosses.
One received a call the night before a major surgery. Her boss was anxious about a grant proposal and insisted she finish it. So instead of preparing her body and spirit for the operating table, she worked through the night.
The other was already hospitalized—scared, waiting for news. His boss, panicked about a donor interaction, pulled him into problem-solving from his hospital bed.
These weren’t emergencies. These were violations. Not of protocol, but of relationship. Of basic dignity. Of the invisible agreements we should be able to count on when a body breaks down.
What’s hardest to name is what I suspect to be true: that these intrusions weren’t driven by true urgency, but by unprocessed anxiety. By control. By the inability to sit with uncertainty.
And that is why we need to talk about urgency—not just as a time management and scheduling issue, but as a relational pattern. A field phenomenon.
Urgency isn’t just about deadlines. It’s not just about time. It’s not even just about stress. Urgency, in the world we live and lead in, is a field phenomenon: something we feel, transmit, and absorb in the relational spaces between us. It is often mistaken for time pressure when it is, in fact, an energetic pattern, and not always our own.
So… What Is Actually Urgent?
Urgency can emerge from very different roots. Sometimes it’s driven by fear—of failure, of scarcity, of not being enough. But other times, it’s driven by desire—a deep longing, a purpose that pulses through you, a creative urge that won’t be silenced.
Urgency formed by fear often tightens us. It contracts the field, narrows vision, and isolates. Urgency formed by desire, on the other hand, can be expansive. It clarifies, energizes, and invites connection. One drains. The other can be deeply generative—if it’s not hijacked by external pressures or distorted by internalized productivity scripts.
This difference matters. Because what we label as urgent—and why—shapes how we lead, how we relate, and what we create.
Let’s start here: Urgency is not the same as emergency.
Urgency vs. Emergency
In modern organizational life, these often get collapsed. Energetically, they can feel much so the same. Let’s begin pulling them apart.
- Emergency: The building is actually on fire. There is no food or water. A team member is experiencing a threat to their mental, emotional or physical integrity. Immediate action is necessary and clear.
- Urgency: A grant deadline. A leadership transition. A policy shift. These may be time-sensitive, but that doesn’t make them an emergency. And sometimes what feels urgent is actually someone else’s unmet need or fear, projected into the field.
True urgency arises when something deeply aligned with your mission, people, or purpose requires your presence and response. False urgency (we may also call it “unexamined urgency”) is urgency shaped by shame, fear, performance pressure, or disconnection.
Here are some ways to distinguish:
True Urgency
- The moment to act is small and non-repeatable—e.g. a decision window that really closes (and is non-negotiable).
- A rupture is escalating that could cause irreparable harm if not tended.
- There’s a clear relational cost to delay (not just a performance or optics cost).
- The energy feels grounded but alert—like storm preparation, not panic.
False Urgency
- The stakes are manufactured (e.g., deadline invented for control or optics).
- The pressure is from someone else’s anxiety, not the situation itself.
- The task can wait, but the person can’t tolerate the waiting.
- It’s rooted in fear of failure, not care for impact.
- The energy feels tight, shallow-breathed, uncentered—like flailing, not focus.
Urgency as a Somatic Experience
If we return to the root of urgent—from Latin urgēre, “to press, to push”—we find something older. Urgency isn’t always crisis. Sometimes, it’s an inner impulse. A desire. A pulse of aliveness that says this matters now.
And therein lies a challenge: urgency can arise from panic or purpose. It can be a reaction, or a revelation.
Do they feel the same? Not quite—but they can be confusingly similar, especially if we haven’t cultivated a fine-tuned relationship with our own sensation vocabulary.
Both can bring:
- increased heart rate
- activation in the solar plexus (a nerve center in the upper abdomen, just below where the ribs meet the sternum)
- a sense of forward propulsion or needing to move
- a charged emotional tone
But the quality and texture of that energy diverges.
| Urgency from Fear | Urgency from Desire | |
| Contracts the field Tightens breath and vision Often feels desperate or scarce Pushes from behind (“Go now or else”) Isolates or pressures others | Expands the field Sharpens clarity without collapse Often feels fertile and alive Pulls from ahead (“Come, become”) Invites and inspires | |
The difference is subtle. It often requires slowing down—even in the quickening—to listen more deeply.
Do we treat it differently?
Yes—and no. We treat all urgency with inquiry, presence, and discernment. But once we discern its source, we shift how we respond.
- If it’s fear-based urgency: we soothe, deescalate, and look for the unmet need beneath the fear. We anchor into grounding practices and widen the window of tolerance. We ask questions like: is this really necessary now? Can we shift the timeline? Is there someone else who can do this? What is the worst case scenario of it not getting done right now, or at all?
- If it’s desire-based urgency: we honor the vitality, but hold it with pacing and relational attunement. We check: is now truly the right time? Is there enough support? What wants to emerge through this pulse, and what does it need to root before it blooms?
You might think of it like a wildfire versus a hearth flame. Both are fire—but one consumes, the other sustains.
Energy Check: Is This Mine?
Urgency often isn’t yours alone. In mission-driven teams, urgency can be highly contagious. Someone feels it in their body and then projects it out if they don’t have the skill to manage the strong sensations that can arise with urgency. It spreads like weather. If someone on your team is panicked, you might feel pulled into their vortex.
Leadership here means becoming a barometer, not a lightning rod.
If it’s not yours, you can still care. But you don’t have to match it. You can meet urgency with presence. That’s leadership.
A Moment to Gather Your Elan
- Pause. Take a breath. Focus on feeling your body from the inside. Close your eyes if it helps you focus.
- Notice: If a sense of urgency is there, what does it feel like in your body? What sensations are present?
- Ask: Is this urgency coming from within me—or am I picking it up from the field?
- Inquire further: What is it in service of?
- Reflect: What energy do I want to meet it with? What tone do I and/or my team need in response?
This is the work of Gathering Elan—gathering life-force, clarity, and direction.