You already know what to do. This system works in the space between knowing and doing: a planning rhythm around the outside, five tools inside it, and two moves at the center that every tool comes back to — deciding what's next, and coming back when you drift.
Two minutes when you drift. Twenty minutes to plan and review your week. Everything else waits until the system sends you there.
Tap any ring, tool, or face on the model — or pick where you're starting below.
Three tabs open, phone in hand, no idea what you were doing? This is the moment the system was built for.
Same steps, same order — whether last week happened or not.
Your roles, your intentions, what you're going for in this chapter.
Been away a week — or a month? There's nothing to make up. Put down the story about the missed time, on purpose. Then run it from today. It gets the same mark as every other one. We don't count streaks here. We count returns.
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Behavior starts with a decision. When you're not doing something, usually nothing has actually been decided yet. Two moves live here: What's Next when nothing's decided, and the reStart Rep when it was and you drifted.
You already know what success looks like here. If you don't yet, start in To-Do.
The very next smallest step you're willing to take that moves the ball forward. One sitting. A camera could see it. You'd actually do it — not could, would.
Not really next? Ask what would have to happen first. Not willing? Shrink it until it's almost embarrassing. Still won't — at any size? That's the Gap, not planning.
Take the step now, put it on the schedule, save it somewhere real, or let it go. Save means filed where you'll find it — a project folder, a list, a spot on the counter — not a soft scrap.
Make it concrete — write it in the block, say it, tell someone.
Take the step. Put it on the calendar. File it. Or put it down. Then come back for the next one.
One honest look. Observation, not judgment — this has to stay light enough to pick up on a bad Tuesday.
Point attention back at the intention. If you realized it changed, or already got handled, point at what's actually next instead.
Every start begins with an ending. Close the last thing, then take the step that was already decided.
Nothing to decide here — the step was already decided. If it turns out nothing is, switch to What's Next.
You can't fail this by drifting. Only by not coming back.
The rhythm around everything else. Seasonal Plan & Review is your personal strategic plan — sketch it on a calm day, a few times a year. Weekly Plan & Review is twenty minutes that keeps it honest. If you only ever run the weekly, the system works.
A season is a real stretch of life — a search, a semester, a launch, a new baby, a first year in business.
The parts you play that matter right now. Add as many as are true — for some people that's three, for others it's eight. Intention: who you want to be in that role, and why it matters. Initiative: the big goal you're going for this season. A role with no initiative this season is a decision, not a failure.
| Together, these define success | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Role | Intention — vision · purpose | Initiative — big goals · aspirations | |
At the end of a season — or whenever the sketch feels wrong and you redraw it.
Pick one initiative. What's the very next step you're willing to take on it?
Put it somewhere you'll see it. Authors revise.
First, what you said you'd do. Then how the week went. Don't fix anything here — that's what keeps twenty minutes at twenty.
Empty your head before you plan. To-dos go to your one trusted inbox in Tasks. Issues are the stuck things — pick one to work this week.
Which roles get this week? A goal for each, and the next step you're willing to take. Set what matters here — you'll put it on the calendar in TEA Budget.
| Role | This week's goal | Next step |
|---|
Same question you ask about a step, asked about a week. Write it, say it, tell someone. Then track it. Your next steps and this line come back next week to check.
Missed weeks? Nothing to catch up on. Start from today. Short on time? One role, one line, one change — five minutes still counts.
Two directions, one ending. Tasks starts with the pile and works it until every item has a decision. Projects starts with a big goal and breaks it down until there's a step you'd take.
Everything goes here first. Dump what's in your head. Download what's in your email and messages, the meeting you just left, the mail on the counter. Tasks, ideas, worries, wishes, projects — one per line. Don't sort while you dump.
What is it — a task, a project, or an idea? Need more? Open "more" for success, why it matters, and time.
The very next step. Break it down in your head if you need to.
Go down the list again: Step, Schedule, Save, or Scrap. Then do it.
| 2 · Refine | 3 · Determine | 4 · Decide | |||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| The item | What is it? | Next step | Start |
Marked it a Project? Take it to Projects. An idea isn't actionable yet — save it or scrap it. A line that keeps coming back untouched → the issues list on your weekly, or Map the Gap.
One trusted place. Decide, and it stops circling.
Everything first — judging comes second.
Work backwards from done. What do I need to know, have, and do? e.g. "don't know what to say" → Do: write the script.
Three to five steps, in order, and the next few moves inside each. Just the next layer — you don't need the whole tree before you start.
| Step | Next · next · next |
|---|
Shippable, not perfect.
Time management, and beyond. Your time, energy, and attention get spent either way; a budget is how you spend them on purpose. Zoom out to plan the week. Zoom in to run the day.
What goes on a calendar: events with a time and place, reminders, time blocks — and your rhythms, the things that recur every week, month, or season. Never a to-do list, never wishes. If the calendar says it, it's real — that's what makes it worth checking.
These go in before anything else — including the rest and the fun you actually intend to have.
Rough it here, then move it to wherever you actually keep your calendar. Every block gets its first step written in — that's what Schedule means.
What's coming this month or season that this week should know about?
Let people see when you're taken. Never say yes to time without the calendar in front of you.
A plan you can't see can't help you. Where will this week live, so you run into it?
Move the blocks to your real calendar now, while it's in front of you.
Look at the week, your calendar, and your to-dos. Read them to choose from — don't copy them over.
An intention for the day, then the commitments. Fixed things first, then blocks, then a first step inside each block so the block starts itself.
An alarm marks a moment you'd blow past. A timer builds a container: twenty minutes, then done — and twenty minutes counts.
From the fixed point. How long did it actually take last time? Then pad.
Which block is likely to get interrupted — or avoided? How will you guard it?
The day will move. Move the block — don't delete it. A budget that gets adjusted is a budget working.
Fix tomorrow's plan, not yourself.
Some parts of your week go the same way over and over, and you keep trying harder in the exact moment you're weakest. Different move: design it while you're calm, write it down, and put it where the moment happens. It doesn't take the decision away — it makes the good one cheap.
Pin it down. Can't say when? Watch for it for two days and come back — you can't fix a thing you can't find.
Before you look at what happens — name what you're going for. Realistic: "out the door by 7:45," not "become a morning person."
Be honest — nobody's grading this. Every place this differs from what you want is where the structure goes.
Each column fixes the one above it. Fill only what applies.
Do the first one before you leave this page.
Then copy the finished version onto the Run it card and post it where it runs.
Built once on Design it. This card runs on any day — fill only the parts this one needs.
Post it where it runs. A page in a folder does nothing at 6:30am. Fix the plan, not yourself.
For the decision you can't make — torn between options, or circling the same question for weeks. Look at the decision from above instead of standing inside one option arguing with the others. Most picks are picks-for-now; knowing that is what lets you choose.
A test, not a permanent identity. A draft you don't send. A filter you try for a week. If you can't think of a small reversible move, this one is bigger than this page — use the Big pass.
List paths without filtering — include the bad ideas. Cross out anything that isn't yours to decide. Keep 3–5: only two options is usually a false choice.
| Path | A season from now, this looks like… | Next step I can undo |
|---|
Stay on top of the decision — not inside an option.
You know what to do. That was never the problem. This is where we work on the rest.
Which kind of stuck is this? A best guess is fine — not every stall is psychological.
Can't say what it's doing for you? You don't know this one yet — run the full map.
Not a promise — a trial. Shrink it until you're willing: too big, break off a piece · too risky, a move you can undo · too exposed, do it with someone · too boring, put a clock on it.
When the look-date comes. Data, not verdicts.
The problem is in your head, where you can't see it. This whole page is one move: get it onto paper, where you can look at it. You won't finish in one sitting — you're not supposed to. Date your passes. Coming back is the tool working.
Does the stuck feeling actually match your sentence? If it's about something further back, run Backtrack (D) first.
Four ways to look at the same resistance. Run the one that fits — opening one closes the others.
Both lists are true at once. That's the stall — a foot on each pedal, not a broken engine.
The resistance is a part of you with a job. It's not trying to ruin your life — it's protecting you, with a method that made sense once and costs too much now.
One question, repeated: "What's the worst part about that?" Ask it into each answer until the answer stops changing. Where it stops is the real problem.
Stopped somewhere new? Rewrite the problem sentence. Hit a choice you've been avoiding? → Decisions.
Everything that could be done — bad ideas too. Then mark how much of each is yours, and the action it points to. Can't attach an action? Cross it off — that's putting it down on purpose.
Watch the next few days: if it settles, it was a real choice. If it keeps nagging, the map missed something — come back and run another pass. Want to test it before you commit? Run it as a Bridge Experiment.
It's doing something for you, or you'd have stopped years ago.
