Why I Don't Need More Time (& Likely Neither Do You)
We think more time will save us, but it often steals the spark. Here’s why slowing down may be the most productive thing you do today.
How chasing productivity can steal our spark and why I’m learning to build softer systems instead.
This reflection was sparked by my song "Soft Machine", where I wrestle with productivity, perfection, and the need for rest. Through the lens of ADHD, I’ve learned that chasing time often means losing touch with what truly moves me. I used to think I needed more time. Now I suspect I just need more space. More sky.
More Space, Less Speed
“Built a kingdom made of blur
And crowned my chaos emperor.”
Some days it feels like I’m running a race that has no finish line. The to-do list regenerates, the clock mocks, and I keep sprinting as if crossing an invisible line will finally make me enough.
My worst burnout didn’t come from failure. It came from overachieving.
From succeeding for everyone but myself. The more I optimized for others, the less I noticed what was happening to me. External excellence turned to internal pressure, and pressure ultimately turned to paralysis.
It took time to heal, and the care of others, to realize I didn’t need more hours in the day. I needed more space within them. More distance from routine. More sky to remember how to fly. (I know, cheeky 'cat poster' vibe but sometimes we need a bit of that extreme to land back in the middle.😸)
Could pausing, even briefly, create more clarity than pushing?
Systems That Breathe
“Systems built like soft machines,
Keep alive my hopes and dream.”
When I wrote that line, I thought I’d discovered something new (the dream of every aspiring thought-leader, right??) Turns out “soft systems” already existed, thanks to Peter Checkland and a group of systems thinkers who believed not everything can be solved by logic alone. Hard systems chase perfect solutions. Soft systems accept that life is messy, changing, and gloriously human.
For me, singing “systems built like soft machines” became a reminder that reflection can be more powerful than control. Soft systems can evolve with us where rote discipline will not. They’re flexible, imperfect, alive. Less about delivering perfection and more about making progress in the right direction.
Maybe that’s why I’ve never embraced this concept of becoming. It implies there’s a final form to reach. Something external I'm destined to be. I’d rather keep shaping (bit by bit) like a living sketch. That’s the heart of Shaping Chaos. (But perhaps this newsletter would be much more fun if it was called Becoming Chaos!!😉)
How might reflection, conversation, or flexibility serve you better than control?
The Wild Mind
“Too loud to hear my shadow scream,
Too fast to feel the slipping dream.”
For a wild mind like mine, time bends and folds in unpredictable ways. Some days ten hours live inside one idea. Other days ten ideas scatter like startled birds. (It's the reason I was able to launch an EP in just a few months and also why I celebrate just getting 1 newsletter out a week semi-consistently!)
I tried to make my tempo match the clock’s tick and ended up trapped in a cage of productivity. Our culture often rewards motion, rarely meaning. But creativity grows in the gaps… in the quiet after our storms, where breath returns and the best ideas take root.
during the sprint or the stillness?
What small pocket of quiet could you protect this week?
The Soft System
“Scarcity sings in a lover’s voice,
Says I must rush, I have no choice."
Scarcity has been my lifelong companion. It kept me ambitious and afraid. For years, I thought hunger equaled drive. But exhaustion taught me that what looks like momentum can actually be resistance in disguise.
That’s why the systems I build now are soft ones. Dynamic. Forgiving. Human. Small rituals of grace instead of rigid rules. My soft machine is made of habits and boundaries that hold space for hope, rest, and renewal.
It’s invisible, imperfect, and entirely mine. Progress without pressure. Grace without guilt. Permission to slow down, breathe deep, and notice the quiet miracles happening in the margins. And honestly, it’s working. My world feels wider already.
How can you make them feel more like a soft machine and less like armor?
From Self-Hate to Gratitude
“Sometimes in the giving I disappear,
Forget to thank the one who got me here.”
Soft Machine isn’t really about productivity. It’s about forgiveness. About learning to thank the mind that refuses to quit, even when it stumbles. My inner critic has been loud for as long as I can remember. I’ve learned its language too well.
This song is one ritual I’m happy to share with you. A way I’m trying to help myself shift that voice from judgment to gratitude. From trying to fix myself to learning to thank the system that’s been carrying me all along. The point isn’t perfection. It’s participation. Trying, even imperfectly, anyway.
Maybe you’ve felt that too. If so, Soft Machine is as much yours as mine.
What would it sound like if you spoke to yourself the way you speak to someone you love?
The Gift of a Soft Machine
“Me I thank… the greatest gift.”
The greatest gift isn’t control. It’s compassion for myself, my pace, and my process. A permission that I’ve granted to myself that, honestly, is already doing some quiet, miraculous work inside and out.
So, this song and now this article is a reminder for wild minds like mine that this isn’t a revolution of speed. It’s a rebellion of kindness. When I feel the squeeze, I remind myself I don’t need more time. I need more sky.
Sometimes that means a walk outside my own urgency. A breath. A pause. A moment for perspective. A coffee with a friend or a weekly writing ritual.
Could you give yourself permission to rest without earning it first?
My soft system, however fragile or hidden, has become one of my greatest allies. It’s the gentle rhythm helping me shape the chaos, keeping me alive, aware, and wonderfully unfinished.
At its heart, it is simply more space to be imperfectly, beautifully human (and a wild minded one at that.😜)
Subscribers can listen now to If I Wrote the Rules and help shape the launch on November 21.
A song about rewriting the rules of love, loss, and self-grace when the old ones no longer fit.
Listen and participate here:
Chris Lafe King