I’m often asked how I manage to get everything done. Damn if I actually do — I barely get anything done, but I do so many different things — this is perhaps what creates the illusion.
People like me, Barbara Sher called “scanners” — those whose curiosity stretches across many things. The problem for scanners is that it’s hard to stay organized — you want everything at once, but you can’t clone yourself. Barbara tried to help by suggesting that people make detailed life plans for years ahead, project lists, and categorize interests, alternating them over time so you don’t jump between everything at once. Her idea was that if you plan out everything you want to do over, say, five years at a time, you’ll eventually fit it all in. I use some of her advice where it makes sense, but there’s really only one thing that works for me — seizing the moment.
The Myth of the Big Moment and the Practice of the Small One
I once wrote about the myth of the big moment — the moment people wait for to finally start or do something, which often never comes. But there is such a thing as a small moment — the very moment when it’s easy to make a move. I have two little tricks I use to catch these moments:
Daily Tune-Up
Every morning I ask myself: what do I want and can do today? I always have a list of things that could never fit into a single day — or any human category — but each day carries a kind of mood for something specific: learning, work, personal projects, cooking, cleaning, reading, planting, exercising, and so on.
Sometimes my feet just take me where they need to, and I do something at random. That’s how I ended up writing this text. Not long ago, I wrote a song — for the first time in years.
I was working when a friend, who’s a musician, texted me, saying he wanted some kind of collaboration: “Sing something, improvise, I’d like something political.” I’m not strong at improvisation, but I opened my notebook, flipped through my notes, and caught on to a recently and spontaneously written text I had thought of as an unfinished poem — and before I knew it, I started crafting a melody.
In the end, all my plans for the day fell apart — but I not only finished the song, picking chords on the guitar, I also recorded it and shed a lot of tears listening to it. I truly love this song: it helped me process what I needed to, and it’s beautiful. All of this was exactly what I didn’t know I needed; it was spontaneous and went against my plans for the day — but this was exactly what means to catch the moment.
Seizing the Impulse
As soon as an idea or impulse to do something arises, you have to grab it — or the moment simply passes. I often miss catching the moment and watch an idea lose its relevance. Take my blog, for example. Sometimes an article idea comes to me, but I decide to put it off. When I return to it later, first, I write with effort, and second, it’s already outside the original energy or context and simply doesn’t resonate. Some things truly only arrive as an idea afterward, and all that’s required is to jot them down. The key is to be attentive and listen.
Chores Without Resistance
If you don’t do the dishes right after a meal, they’re likely to sit for several days. It’s best to make the most of the mood to cook — preparing as much as possible and freezing the extras. Some things can be combined; for example, cooking follows a certain rhythm, so it’s perfect to add music and dancing into the process.
What does resistance mean?
Resistance doesn’t arise so much toward the action itself as toward how it is experienced. Often, it’s the gap between “should” and “want.” When an action doesn’t align with our internal state, the mind seems to slow down — not because we’re lazy, but because there’s no connection. The same goes for chores: they’re cyclical, with no visible end, and the brain doesn’t get a quick sense of completion or purpose.
Control also plays a role. Household tasks involve many small duties that you don’t choose anew each time. Even if they’re simple, their very “obligatory” nature can trigger resistance. That’s why the best time for chores is linked to a previous action — the “atomic habits” principle.
Overload matters too: when your mind is already full, even a small task feels like “one more thing.” Resistance then becomes a way to preserve energy.
Finally, there’s the matter of timing. Even the simplest task can stall if it’s not done at the right moment. But when you catch the right state, even washing the dishes can flow easily, almost automatically, without inner friction. So “without resistance” isn’t about forcing yourself not to feel it; it’s about reducing these gaps: catching the moment, adjusting the rhythm, or allowing yourself to do it differently.
Resistance and Trusting the Rhythm
If I really need to do something but have zero desire, I try not to fight it. Most likely, the right time for it will come after I’ve done what I actually feel like doing in that moment. Of course, when deadlines are involved, an internal conflict often arises, but I’m learning not to push myself too hard and instead to listen to myself, catching the moment. There’s a time for everything.
Getting Distracted
I get distracted a lot, and it’s often seen as an obstacle to getting things done. But I love my distractions — they bring new ideas, directions, and twists. Sometimes, what happens within them doesn’t happen within the “main task”: unexpected connections, new insights, fresh impulses. The problem isn’t the distraction itself, but losing contact with it — when it becomes mere escape rather than movement toward something. For me, it’s important not to eliminate distractions, but to learn to recognize and use them.
Right now, I should be writing an article — deadline looming — but I caught the moment and wrote this piece instead, freeing up space for the next project. It’s a more effective approach, because when you follow the moment, completing tasks becomes easier — faster and more enjoyable. Life, after all, constantly pulls us away from our plans.
The Limits of This Approach
This isn’t about discipline in the traditional sense, nor is it about “only doing what you feel like.” It’s more about being attentive to your own state and knowing how to use an impulse while it’s alive. There are things you still have to do without any motivation — but even then, you can sometimes find your own small moment: changing the method, pace, or context. It’s about trusting yourself and recognizing that not all processes need to be linear; naturally, they are cyclical and chaotic. Having a plan is great — as an anchor — but it’s not the same as life itself.
