The Anti-Resolution: No Reinvention Required

For a long time, I ran on a very specific kind of autopilot.

I believed productivity was proof of worth.
I believed rest was something to be earned.
I believed that if I could just manage myself better— better lists, better systems, better resolutions— then I’d finally feel like I had it together.

Reader, I absolutely did not.

What I did get very good at was project-managing myself into exhaustion. I optimized my time, my goals, my habits … and somewhere along the way, I also optimized out surprise, spontaneity, and any sense that life (or work) could delight me without a plan.

To be clear: I still love a checklist. I still fall into the trap. I still sometimes confuse “busy” with “effective.” This is not a redemption story. It’s just a different approach I’ve found more useful at the start of a new year.

 

A few years ago, I stopped making resolutions and started doing something much simpler and less intimidating.

I look backward.

Then I make two columns:

Do more of.
Do less of.

That’s it. No scoring. No color coding. No aspirational nonsense.

This practice is inspired by Tim Ferriss’s “year in review” idea: instead of reacting to endless to-do lists, you intentionally design how you spend your time and energy. It’s a way to stay honest about what actually matters.

The Do Less column fills up quickly: autopilot meetings, misaligned projects, things I said yes to out of habit or obligation, and work that looked productive but didn’t really go anywhere.

The Do More column is usually shorter and more telling. These are the moments that created momentum: the conversations that led somewhere real, the work that felt focused and sharp, the people and rhythms that gave energy instead of taking it.

Here’s the part that actually changed my behavior:

I stopped treating the “Do More” list like a nice idea.

I put it on the calendar.

If something belongs in More, it gets real time.
If it doesn’t, it moves toward Less, even if it’s familiar, even if it’s comfortable.

 

Over time, I realized something: the two columns tell me what to prioritize, but they don’t always protect me from slipping back into old habits.

I’m very capable of turning even the Do More list into another rigid optimization exercise.

So I added one more layer.

Instead of setting a dozen resolutions, I choose a single word to act as a filter while I’m building the columns and scheduling what goes into them. It’s the gut check. The tone setter. The reminder of how I want to do the things I’ve already decided matter.

I also only choose it for six months.

Because people change. Priorities evolve. Six months gives me direction without pretending I’ve solved the whole year in January.

My word for the first half of the year is Zest.

Which I realize sounds like something you’d describe a salad dressing with, but stay with me.

For me, zest means this: as I build my Do More list and put it on the schedule, I’m asking whether the work feels focused but not heavy, intentional but not joyless. Whether I’m taking the work seriously without taking myself quite so seriously. Whether there’s room for humor, surprise, and the occasional unscripted moment that reminds me why I like doing this in the first place.

If something technically belongs in More but feels flat, draining, or overly rigid, Zest gives me permission to rethink it, reshape it, or move it to Less altogether.

 

I see the same pattern show up in brands all the time.

More channels. More output. More initiatives. More urgency.

But not always more clarity.

I’ve started to think about it this way: just like personal autopilot kills delight, brand autopilot kills the delight that creates differentiation.

When brands default to doing what they’ve always done because it’s familiar or expected, the work slowly loses its edge. Not because the team isn’t talented, but because no one has stopped long enough to ask what still deserves the energy.

It’s easy to assume growth comes from doing more things. In reality, we gain traction by being brave enough to do fewer things better, with intention.

When teams audit what’s actually working (and what’s just noise), the work gets sharper. Decisions get easier. Energy comes back. And yes, enthusiasm tends to follow, not because it’s mandated, but because the work finally has room to breathe.

 

You don’t need a new planner or a new personality.

Just two columns and a little honesty.

What deserves more of your time this year?
What’s ready to be left behind?
And what would happen if you put the “More” on the schedule and let the rest go?

If this resonates, I’d love to hear what ends up in your Do Less column, or what you’re finally making time for.

Hit reply.

Here’s to a year with more clarity, fewer autopilot decisions, and just enough Zest to keep things interesting.