“There is no man living that can not do more than he thinks he can.” -Henry Ford

We’ve all been there: suddenly, you glance at the clock and discover you’ve spent the first hour or two of your day doing… everything but that which you ought to have done. A little cunning and a smidge of willpower, however, can help ensure this happens as rarely as possible: here are four practical suggestions on how to go about it.

Pick your 3 most important tasks the day before

Our willpower is a finite resource, and particularly so when making short-term decisions. Just imagine the difference in deciding whether to work out immediately, or tomorrow. It’s infinitely easier to pick tomorrow – and, oddly enough, scheduled actions are easier to go through with.

The same applies to tasks. If you end every day with picking your most important tasks for tomorrow, you don’t need to subconciously fret about having to start your day with difficult decisions or worry about what awaits you: it’s all laid out, waiting for you – and what remains is simply to execute.

Eat the frog

Now that you’ve set yourself up with a great start by choosing your three most important tasks, start by doing the most difficult one first – often referred to as eating the frog. Why? Because your energy and attention – as in, your ability to focus – operate much like a battery does, recharging through the night.

This makes executing on the task you find least enticing first a logical, if not comfortable choice. In turn, you will likely feel great about the remaining high-priority tasks, as well as the rest of your day. Just give it a try, and I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Don’t book morning meetings

I’m not a fan of meetings. Not all meetings are time-wasting sinkholes, void of clearly defined outcomes and fraught with an excess number of attendees – but many are. And, when you leave them, you typically have less energy and more tasks than when you enter them.

This, of course, is a particular problem when you’re setting yourself up for a productive day. Your three most important tasks should be tackled when your energy and attention levels are at a maximum, and the solution is simple: don’t book morning meetings.

Personally, I try to give myself at least one hour - preferably, two – of pure and unadulterated productivity before attending meetings.

Postpone information snacking

You know that warm, fuzzy feeling you get from taking the edge off a busy day with dipping into your e-mail, online news and social media? Don’t make it your first appointment of the day; make it your first break instead.

Information snacking is much the same as nutritional snacking: a guilty pleasure. By making it a break, you’re essentially doing the brain equivalent of eating healthy before snacking on sweets. Furthermore, if you’ve already picked your three most important tasks, both having a game plan and something to look forward to during breaks will make this easier.

Oh, and keep the following in mind: information snacking isn’t the same as taking a real break.

In a world reared for success, ambition is an increasingly valued personal quality – and there is no denying that much is owed to it. But if left unchecked, ambition could turn even the most well-intended among us down a very unexpected and unwelcome path indeed.

Few will disagree with the notion that people with ambition tend to gravitate towards responsibility in the shape of leadership positions. It’s a mechanism deeply rooted within those of us afflicted with ambition, which is at its most base level represented by our reward system at work doing what it was designed to do.

The reward system works much the same in all of us, activating when we achieve something that we want, and motivating us to repeat the action. It is also, in short, what takes a shovel to the back of the collective heads of ambitious people.

Why? Well, what’s the first synonym you can think of for responsibility? Most people I ask reply with… “work”, usually preceded or succeeded by a slight revelatory pause. And of course, it’s hard to argue that at least proper responsibility, as opposed to ‘title’ responsibility, is or will ever be a walk in the park.

The real problem, however, arises when ambition, responsibility and our reward system join forces to overpower our intellect. Ambition stokes our thirst for responsibility, and the reward system does exactly what it was built for: it rewards the achievement, and promotes an encore.

Responsibility and reward

Responsibility is either bestowed upon you by others; taken upon yourself; carried reluctantly, or assumed willingly. Combine these variables, and you get variations ranging from the reluctant leader elevated to greatness by his peers, to the overambitious careerist promoted by management – and everything in between.

With this as our backdrop, the connection between ambition and responsibility, and how the former acts as a catalyst to accrue further responsibilities among the ambitious, shifts into focus.

Those who accept responsibility reluctantly are unlikely to get much – if any – attention by our reward system. The ambitious, meanwhile, are receptive to the vicious circle of responsibility and reward. Achieve responsibiity, claim reward; rinse and repeat.

This way, responsibility moves from its singular to its plural form, resulting in a rather ungraceful move from the category of ‘ambitious and hungry for success’ to ‘overworked sod’. In other words, your brain just dealt you a slow kick to the proverbial nuts.

Digging out

If you find yourself nodding all along while reading this, fret not; there’s hope. First, allow the possibility of having taken on too much to slowly dawn on you (because it never strikes like lightning). Then, ask this of yourself: if you knew you could not fail, which one thing would you pursue right now?

Should the answer not be on your list of current responsibilities, start finding a way to pursue it. If it’s something you already do, count yourself grateful, and prepare to wrestle with yourself over the certainty of your answer.

Now, whether what you want to do is on the list or not, you’ll have to wrestle with the proposition of letting go of your current achievements. We’re a greedy lot, you and I.

The trick to it, of course, is to answer the question I just gave you truthfully – because if you truly have, your answer will offset the perceived loss of your current achievements to the extent that you will be able to decide on a course of action that much faster.

Then get off your arse and do something about it, because life is indeed too short to be barking up the wrong forest.

I own an alarming amount of things – a house full, in fact. There are times I wish I could magically halve the tally, but a life which includes a spouse and two small children easily negates this as an option. Surprisingly, things (get it?) are for the most part kept under control, and here’s how.

Fewer is better

When it comes to things, order and tally have an inverse relationship: the more you have, the less organized they are. And, unless you have a fetish for categorizing, labelling and organizing large amounts of physical objects (of which I am unequivocally guilty), your goal should be to own fewer things.

Why is that, you ask? Well, apart from saving the planet and aiding your fellow man, it makes things simpler for you.

Do you really need that?

My approach towards slaying the Hydra-esque beast that is things is by only keeping the things I need, which makes them easier to retrieve in times of need, and archive them when I’m done.

The ones I don’t need, I religiously sell, give away or recycle. This way, others can make use of what I no longer need, and if I’m fortunate, I might even aid in the prevention of having yet another copy manufactured. By doing so, or through recycling, I’m saving the planet – one square centimeter at a time.

If I’m unsure of whether I need something, I place it in a holding bin that I empty every quarter or half year depending on how full it is. By the time I revisit its contents, my gut will have taken care of the decision.

Memories matter; things much less so

I hold on to very few physical items for the sake of nostalgia. The mobile phone with which I sparked a relationship with a cute girl a little more 14 years ago is one of them. Gifts from her and my children are others. For everything else, I take pictures to remind me of what was – and if I don’t happen to be carrying a camera, I always carry a smartphone with one.

Everything has its place, and goes back there every single time it’s used. This way, not only I but everyone else in the household – at least in my utopian fantasy – don’t waste time trying to find something. My children, of course, regard me much as they would a blithering idiot when I try to explain this concept to them.

When something breaks, I don’t replace it until I need it. Some times, I discover that I didn’t really need it at all, which means one less thing to take care of. Or, from another perspective, it means one more moment for me to do what, or be with those, I love.

I find it’s a fair tradeoff.

E-mail. The humble, initially text-based, form of communication has been with us for decades, and during that time span been transformed from obscurity through prominence into the scourge of the workplace – which isn’t e-mail’s fault; rather, it’s ours.

Back in the early nineties (with which I assumed I would never initiate a sentence), most of our communication took place on paper. I’m old enough to remember, yet young enough to retain something of a nostalgic infatuation with paper as my primary outlet for creativity all the way through high school. About that time, e-mail happened.

I watched my father, then working as the daily manager of a production facility, observe its arrival with initial skepticism – which was rapidly transformed into reluctant glee once he realized that he no longer had to resort to using the damned fax machine if something was urgent. Nowadays, he’d drop you like a piece of soap in a prison shower if you cut his e-mail umbilical cord.

Those old enough to remember may already understand that I’m working my way up to two of the greatest advantages of e-mail over the way we used to do things (read: paper): speed and accessibility. Nowadays, e-mail is everywhere – on your PC, on the web, on your smartphone. It’s even on most dumbphones. And if you haven’t already been interrupted by it while reading this post, good for you.

All that glitters isn’t gold

In the beginning, e-mail was a godsend – similar to paper, but infinitely faster. Its speed and accessibility, however, made quick work of the surprisingly intricate psychological aspects of sending a letter. It didn’t cost anything; there was no printing; no envelope; no getting the postage right or remembering the return address.

Simply put, it didn’t take the same effort, which brings us to trouble. You see, there’s an inverse relationship betwen the frequency of transactions (regardless of which unit of measure is applied) and their cost; as the latter goes down, the former goes up. Translation: sending e-mail costs less both in terms of labour and currency, so you send more of them.

And at this point, speed and accessibility become our enemies. Imagine, for a moment, that you’re back in the stone age and need to distribute some information within a business. Do you print, staple and meticulously address or deliver a copy to A) just the people that need the information, or do you B) include three more just in case they might be interested?

Where things go wrong

The CC: you couldn’t care less about. The dialog which spiralled off in three different directions, and now you can’t find just the right version of that damned attachment. Internal mailing lists. Nag-mail from middle management. These broken scenarioes exist for one reason: our undiscerning use of e-mail as a catch-all communications channel.

Why?

Because e-mail is fast. Because it lets you attach almost whatever you want. And, most of all, because it’s universal and ubiquitous. Like text messages, e-mail is the lowest common denominator. Everyone has it. Everyone checks it at the very least regularly; some religiously. And us humans? We’re simple that way. We like fast, we like easy, and reliability is – truth be told – a bit of a turn-on.

Whether at home or at work, e-mail just works. And that’s the problem. Everyone has it now, and we’re all idiots. We’ve all sent a CC: that shouldn’t have been sent. Or resorted to e-mail for getting a file over to our smartphone. Or to check up on something… or someone. It’s asinine, and it’s all our fault.

Stuffing the cat back in the bag

I have what’s called a love-hate relationship with e-mail. I prune my inbox several times a day, but then only to delete whatever I do not need; archive reference information; and generate or update tasks from what remains. It’s a simple process, and it’s designed for one purpose alone: to counter instinctual responses that dictate I reply… right away.

And why do I do things this way? Because inboxes are useless for being anything but inboxes. They contain only what’s being sent specifically to them (at the mercy of the sender; not the recipient), and to add insult to injury they sort incoming e-mail based on… time? Or, as a surprisingly large number of people are wont to do: by sender?

These factors may be of use when you’re trying to find something in what is essentially a 4,000 feet high pile of papers, but they are blisteringly useless as far as productivity is concerned.  Prioritizing and context generate productivity, and with the exception of non-hierarchical categories and a coloured flags, inboxes serve productivity similarly to how dogs serve cats.

Your inbox, in essence, is a place where others inquire for your time and attention – and alas, it’s all too easy to fall prey to what instinctively feels like the appropriate social response: to respond. Somewhere, someone awaits your reply, and you have to get through all of these, and that one about signing up for the soccer game is important and… oh my.

Two hours later, you haven’t gotten anything important done. Fortunately, the antidote is simple: get a task manager. Preferably a good one, like MyLifeOrganized. And don’t ever do anything with an e-mail again except for delete, archive or process it into your task manager.

Bonus tip, you ask? But of course. Don’t ever, ever open an e-mail more than once. Just picture yourself opening a letter, then taping it shut only to open it once more and you’ll understand why.

Have you ever had the feeling of being under a deadline to get something important or urgent – or both, for that matter – done, yet you inevitably seem to get caught up in distractions of lesser import? The following is what occurs.

Distractions are a bunch of sneaky little bastards. They sit in wait – as distractions are wont to do – to capture your attention, and then run off with it the first chance they get, like a howling flock of wolves who just caught an unsuspecting prey.

I loathe distractions.

And especially so do I hate them when I need to get something important done that I do not necessarily appreciate doing. I’ll walk out the door with a resolve to do anything from painting my house or working in the back yard… and find myself hosing down the front porch instead.

Painting vs pruning

On the home front, this is just an annoyance, but at work it’s a right and proper bitch to deal with. Instead of painting or digging, it’s finishing an offer for a major client – only to find yourself suddenly sitting there pruning your inbox instead.

Yes, pruning ones inbox is important. But it’s also more than a few steps down on the list of important things I ought to be doing, and it annoys me gravely every time I catch myself doing it.

Fortunately, I’m aware of the cause and effect behind this dastardly display of inefficiency, which makes it easier for me not only to spot what’s going on but also snap out of it. The answer is simple: my instinct is engaging my intellect in mortal combat.

Intellect vs instinct

When I find myself distracted by less important work, whether at home or at work, it’s almost always because my instincts lead me away when it’s undesirable work – because important doesn’t always equal interesting. Either that, or I’ve forgotten to allow my brain regular breaks.

Fortunately, the solution to both problems is identical: I take a break. A real break, where I stop doing anything at all, leave my desk and don’t consume any information at all. Staring at nature is good. Refilling my water bottle. Shooting the breeze with colleagues.

And suddenly, I forge straight ahead again into my todo list, enjoying the perks of being a productivity geek who doesn’t have to consider for even a split second what comes next.

Until I get distracted again.

“Paying attention in a distracted world: it’s like bringing a gun to a knife fight.” -James Shelley

Every journey comprises a distinct set of elements. Taking an interest. Choosing a destination. And, finally, planning ones route – perhaps painstakingly. Most people think the second part is the hardest – but that depends on what kind of journey you’re talking about.

Gradual enlightenment

As you grow older, chances are you’ll learn a few things on the way. The world, for instance, is not what you thought it would be growing up. If you’re fortunate, you slowly but steadily acquire a world view where our little blue dot offers equal cause for elation and desperation, with you playing a part on its stage for tipping the balance in favour of the former.

Life itself is a journey unlike any other, because unlike most other journeys, it’s a one-shot affair. You’ll face vast amounts of obstacles, detours and opportunities, and – given a global population of some 7 billion – plenty of choice in travelling companions.

Where it all begins

If we’re fortunate, we embark on the journey of life surrounded by family and loved ones whom help us make sense of it all, aiding us with at least the most basic of requirements. Perhaps we embark with far less. Or, as is the case for a disappointing number of children, nothing at all. This is the ‘desperation’ part.

Regardless of our initial circumstances, most of us make our way through the early stages of life in much the same way: we muddle through, and aim for a destination that has caught our interest – often for less than self-evident reasons. And over this, we ruminate thoroughly and extensively, whilst the age of information cushions our dreams and proffers seemingly infinite options.

But through our ruminations and failures, we grow and change. And at some point along the way which is impossible to predict, we suddenly reach a point where the veil is drawn back, and we are inflicted with the realization of why and how we got to where we are today.

Call it the forebear of wisdom.

The onset of insight

At this very point, chances are fairly high that another piece of insight dawns on us: rather than merely following the flock, the majority of us possess the utter and complete freedom to choose a drastically different path in life. All of the ties which string us to the rest of the world… can be severed.

It’s an uncomfortable truth.

Why? Because if you’re able to weather the brutality of it, you realize that you’re past the mundane question of where you want to go. Instead, you get to decide upon questions of import – such as whether you want to go at all – which is exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

From this point onwards, your own honesty becomes your nemesis; either you allow it to bear down on you with its maws wide open, or you try to ignore it. The former entails change, discomfort and progress. The latter involves safety, comfort and perceived progress in a life that isn’t truly of your own making.

Choosing the former require something that we all possess but oh so rarely apply in this day and age: courage. Rather evidently, it’s not the kind of courage you need for asking your boss for a raise. It’s the kind of courage you need to become an astronaut. Or quitting your job and joining Medecins Sans Frontiers.

The uncomfortable truth is that it lies within us all to do this if only we dig deep enough within ourselves. And, even if we find the courage we need, change doesn’t always end up well.

But sometimes, that’s a chance worth taking.

Who knew fate had a sense of irony? The following is a brief story concerning someone whom writes regularly about productivity, yet recently fell victim to a severe bout of procrastination – only to have a perfect stranger provide the required kick in the arse to get moving again.

Everyone procrastinates

It’s a consoling thought, isn’t it? Everyone procrastinates, because to procrastinate is, in many cases, to err – and to err is only human. Except for the fact that procrastinating is bloody annoying, and more often than not leads to severe bouts of guilt and/or last-ditch efforts to get something done.

Still, you might be consoled to know that everyone really does procrastinate, including yours truly, and I thought I’d make the most of an opportunity presented by a truly glorious example of said behaviour on my own part to shed light on a particular phenomenon of procrastination that hides in broad daylight.

Insufficient information leads to indecisiveness

One of the main culprits, as far as procrastination is concerned, is indecisiveness. This may be blindingly obvious when put to paper, but an inability to decide really is something of a showstopper when you want to get things done – it can just be hard to notice in daily life, because procrastination is such a stealthy beast, and particularly so if you’re stressed.

Procrastination, in fact, does its very best work when we’re stressed, in which case we become highly susceptible to reverting to a state where our brains are allowed to make primal, split-second decisions about what’s important and what’s not – which almost invariably leads to the most spectacular cock-ups in the department of priority-making.

Briefly put: ones level of stress is inversely proportionate to ones ability to intelligently prioritize tasks.

And this, dear reader, was just what happened to me.

Of course fate has a sense of irony

Because it’s had quite a few millennia to develop one – and perfect its application of it. Recently, I’ve had an abundance of things to do, and fell victim to the perfect storm of being finding said things not only excruciatingly interesting, but also infuriatingly complex, the last of which was due to a general lack of knowledge regarding how to actually get them all done.

This is just about the point where tunnel vision set in, and before I knew it, I had neglected a fairly important part of my stated areas of focus for more than six weeks in a row. Now, nobody got killed, and my core priorities were still well taken care of due to well-ingrained habits, but in retrospect it’s easy to see that the procrastination had grated on me.

What happened that made me properly alert to the situation, where hitherto there had been only a temperate annoyance and poor excuses for not buckling down, was a chance encounter with a perfect stranger that gave me the kick in the arse that I needed.

Truth be told, it wasn’t so much as a kick as, say, a volley delivered with enough blunt force to topple the Eiffel tower – or something similarly weighted. After talking to this person for about an hour, he suddenly quoted back to me something – as if straight out of my own musing on the topic – the importance of regular reflection as pertaining to the art of prioritizing.

Of course, I couldn’t help but crack a wide and impressively sheepish grin where I sat, and progressed to confess my sins straight there and then. We both got a solid chuckle out of that one.

By the time of this writing, I’m back on the wagon – and just thought I’d let you know that even people who work with these things fall off every now and then.

The important part? Getting back on.