This is not another corporate-style "time management" guide, where the goal is to cram as many tasks as possible into the shortest amount of time. You won’t find here techniques for optimizing work to maximize profits, hacks for greater "efficiency," or strategies to squeeze more productivity out of yourself for someone else’s benefit. Instead, today we will learn that:
Time is not a resource to be exploited – it is the space in which life unfolds.
The goal is not to do more, but to do what is essential – in the right way, with peace and mindfulness. Masters of martial arts, calligraphy, and Zen did not measure their success by the number of actions they performed, but by whether each one was executed with full awareness of the moment.
How many times have we acted in haste, reacting instead of responding, throwing ourselves into a whirlwind of obligations without reflection, allowing time to slip through our fingers? We tend to believe that if we act faster, we will achieve more—that if we fill every minute, we will become more valuable. But is that really true? When life presents us with challenges, is it better to rush blindly forward, or to pause and consider which path truly makes sense? Isogaba maware—sometimes the fastest route is the long way around. Every moment is a decision—either we make it consciously, or we allow someone or something else to make it for us. Fudōshin—the immovable heart—how can we ensure that we do not react instinctively to those (whether people, brands, or corporations) who seek to manipulate our time?
It’s not about being fast. It’s about being present. It’s not about checking off tasks or letting life become a series of mechanical, random actions, but rather about shaping it like a well-composed work of art. There is no "someday," no "perfect moment"—there is only now. Time is like a calligrapher’s brush—once a stroke is made, it remains forever. The choice is ours: will we let it be an accidental mark, or will we turn it into a deliberate masterpiece?
急がば回れ
In a world that urges us to move faster and faster, paradoxically, it is mindfulness and calm that lead to the best results. The Japanese proverb isogaba maware (急がば回れ), which literally means "if you are in a hurry, take the long way around," teaches that impatience and haste often lead to mistakes, which ultimately prolong the entire process.
Imagine a samurai warrior striving to master the art of the perfect sword cut. If he tries to achieve mastery as quickly as possible, skipping the grueling hours of training, his technique will remain flawed, and in real combat—he will fail. This is why Musashi Miyamoto, samurai, philosopher, master of the sword, and author of Gorin no Sho (The Book of Five Rings), emphasized that speed does not come from chaotic acceleration, but from fluidity and effectiveness of movement. Mindfulness in action prevents the need for corrections and, in the long run, saves time.
Paradoxically, the fastest results are achieved through dedicating countless hours to training and then unleashing that accumulated momentum in a single decisive action—whether it be a sword strike, writing an Android application, creating graphic designs, or dealing in real estate.
War is not only brute force but, above all, strategy and timing. Takeda Shingen, one of the greatest strategists of the Sengoku period, known for his motto fūrinkazan (風林火山) – "Be swift as the wind, silent as the forest, fierce as fire, and immovable as the mountain" – understood that success in battle was not about reckless attacks but about waiting for the right moment. This is precisely isogaba maware—sometimes it is wiser to slow down in order to strike at the perfect time.
Musashi also warned against "premature movement"—acting too quickly without fully assessing the situation often led to failure. However, there is a fine line here—sometimes we mistake waiting for the right moment with procrastination, which endlessly waits for the "perfect" conditions that never come.
How can we apply this principle to daily creative work?
▫ Thinking: Instead of instantly reacting to stimuli and pressure, allow thoughts to mature. Many creators use the method of "setting aside" a project for a few days to look at it from a fresh perspective.
▫ Designing: Focusing on details rather than rushing leads to better results. In Japanese design, from architecture to ukiyo-e, slow, intentional composition is key. True artistry is built step by step, not in sudden bursts of inspiration.
▫ Writing: Anyone who has written anything knows that fast writing often leads to hours of revisions. Instead, it is better to write slowly and deliberately, ensuring rhythm and clarity.
▫ Decision-Making: Rushed decisions often lead to mistakes. In Japanese management strategy, the nemawashi method—gradually preparing and consulting a decision instead of acting impulsively—is valued.
In all these fields, isogaba maware reminds us: take the longer road if you wish to reach your goal faster and more effectively. It’s not about stagnation, but about conscious energy management, so that every action has meaning and value.
不動心
We live in a world of constant stimulation. Notifications, messages, advertisements, and the expectations of others bombard us from all directions. Everything seems to demand our immediate response. Yet, the more we give in to these impulses, the less control we have over our own lives. The Japanese concept of fudōshin (不動心), meaning the "immovable mind" or "unshaken heart," was crucial for samurai, who had to make decisions without hesitation but could not allow emotions to control them. This ability remains just as relevant in the 21st century—even if we no longer wield a katana.
Samurai understood the difference between reacting and responding. Reaction is an instinct—a swift, unconscious action that once helped early humans survive. If an ancestor saw a predator, immediate escape was the key to survival. But in today’s world, reacting impulsively out of fear, emotion, or pressure often leads to poor decisions. And this is precisely what corporations, employers, brands, advertisers, and manipulators exploit. They provoke instant responses so that we act without reflection. Click, buy, agree, react, reply immediately—quick reactions benefit them, but often cost us.
Bob Proctor, though not directly related to Japanese philosophy, expressed a thought that resonates deeply with fudōshin:
“Do not react, respond.”
Reaction is mechanical and passive—it allows the situation to control us. But a person who can pause, quiet the mind, and reflect regains control. When someone attacks us verbally, should we immediately retaliate in anger? When pressured to make an instant purchase, do we truly need it? When life throws challenges our way, do we rush blindly forward, or do we stop and choose the best path?
In time management, fudōshin means calmness and confidence. Those who are constantly stressed and rushed often waste hours chaotically completing tasks, caught in an endless cycle of corrections and distractions. Meanwhile, a stable mind allows us to make the right decision immediately, instead of wasting time on unnecessary reactions and adjustments.
To master time is not to dominate the clock, but to free oneself from its tyranny. In a world that demands constant urgency, there is no greater power than choosing stillness when the world demands haste.
The samurai had many methods to cultivate fudōshin. They were warriors, but also masters of inner tranquility. Many of their techniques are still accessible today, requiring neither significant financial investment nor excessive time.
Zen meditation allowed samurai to tame their minds and detach from the chaos of thoughts. They would sit motionless, observing their breath, letting emotions flow through them without reaction. They learned to create distance from impulses, which later translated into composure in battle. A mind trained in this way could remain internally calm even amidst conflict, if only for a few seconds—long enough to resist the natural urge for mindless reaction.
Samurai practiced cuts and evasions in endless repetition, not to act purely on instinct, but to gain complete control over their body and mind. They did not allow emotions to dictate their movements—every action was to be a conscious decision. Martial arts teach exceptional discipline and control over one’s body and natural reflexes, turning movements into deliberate choices rather than impulsive reactions.
Mastering the breath is mastering the self. In moments of stress, breathing becomes shallow and rapid, while the mind grows restless. Samurai used techniques of deep, slow breathing to calm both body and mind. The same techniques are now employed in athletic training, pilot preparation, and meditative practices by monks. In high-pressure situations, controlling one’s breath means retaining control over one’s actions, responses, and overall mental state.
We don’t have to be warriors to apply the principle of fudōshin in our lives. Every day presents us with situations that require a choice: Do we act impulsively, or do we respond with awareness? Do we allow others to dictate our time, or do we take control of it ourselves?
• Hearing criticism – I can react instantly with indignation, protesting that it is unfair (perhaps that’s exactly what my opponent wants—to provoke me into another attack). Or I can pause, reflect on the purpose behind their words, and decide how best to respond—whether to counter them harshly, or to achieve an outcome that truly matters to me.
• Facing a tempting advertisement – I can give in to impulse and buy something that suddenly seems indispensable. Or I can stop for a moment and ask myself: Do I really need this?
• In moments of stress – I can panic and act chaotically, losing control of the situation. Or I can pause, take a deep breath, calm my mind, and gain clarity on what truly needs to be done next.
• In conflicts and arguments – I can react immediately with anger, escalating an unnecessary dispute. Or I can stop and ask myself: Will this change anything? Would it be wiser to respond calmly—or not respond at all?
• When tempted to procrastinate – I can instantly give in and choose something easier and more pleasant. Or I can take a moment to reflect on the consequences and remind myself why these tasks are important in the first place.
Fudōshin does not mean passivity—it means strength. It is the conscious decision not to be a puppet controlled by impulses and emotions, but rather their master. And in a world full of distractions, where everyone demands our attention and instant reaction, the ability to pause may be our greatest advantage.
一期一会
Some moments happen only once. They will never appear in the same form again—the world changes, we change, and what exists now will soon vanish. Ichigo ichie (一期一会), a Japanese philosophy of deeply experiencing the present moment, teaches that not only do unique moments exist, but in fact, every moment is unique. Every instance is a once-in-a-lifetime encounter—not only with people but also with time, experiences, and creative processes. If we are not fully present, we lose them forever.
Our lives are composed of moments. The problem is that we rarely truly inhabit them. Our bodies are here, but our minds are elsewhere—anticipating, analyzing, checking off to-do lists, worrying about what will happen in an hour, a day, a year. Meanwhile, ichigo ichie reminds us:
"What happens now will never happen in the same way again."
We can either fully experience it, or let it pass us by.
Modern life glorifies multitasking and divided attention. We are expected to be everywhere, do everything at once, and always be "productive." But multitasking is an illusion—the more we divide our focus, the less depth and value we bring to each action. As a result, we create superficially, think superficially, and miss the details. Fortunately, science has caught up with what many have instinctively known—multitasking is a myth, proven false through countless studies over the last few decades. There is no debate anymore—multitasking is a trap.
Masters of calligraphy dedicated their entire focus to a single brushstroke, knowing that each movement was irreversible. Musicians, craftsmen, artists, writers—those who achieved greatness understood that the most important moment is the one in which they act.
If you are fully present in your work, the final result will have depth and richness.
If your mind is elsewhere, you will create something mechanical, shallow, weaker.
Ichigo ichie teaches us that work done in full presence requires fewer revisions.
A writer fully immersed in their text doesn’t need endless rewrites.
An artist painting "with their whole being" doesn’t need to return and "fine-tune" lines.
A designer fully engaged in the process creates something well-conceived from the beginning.
For centuries, Japan has cultivated the art of being present (mono no aware is essentially the guiding principle of all Edo-period art). Examples of this philosophy can be seen in Japanese rituals:
▫ Chanoyu (茶の湯) – The Tea Ceremony – Every gesture, from pouring water to serving a cup, is performed with full attention. When drinking tea, one does not engage in small talk or think about the future. One simply drinks the tea, exists in that particular place and time—and that is enough.
▫ Shodō (書道) – Calligraphy – A single brushstroke defines the entire work. It cannot be undone, it cannot be corrected. The essence lies in the purity of the moment of creation.
▫ Kintsugi (金継ぎ) – The Art of Repairing Ceramics – Cracks in broken pottery are highlighted with gold rather than hidden. Likewise, life’s moments—even those imperfect and flawed—are unique and valuable.
▫ Focused work on a single task – Instead of jumping between multiple things, devote your full attention to one. It’s better to write a single, well-crafted paragraph with full concentration than to produce five pages without real engagement.
▫ Deep conversations and meetings – When spending time with someone important, be fully present. Don’t glance at your phone, don’t mentally plan your next task—just be there.
▫ Creating with total immersion – If you write, write with intention. If you paint, lose yourself in the colors and brushstrokes. If you work on a concept, let it fully consume you.
▫ Pausing to recognize the value of the moment – Whether in science, art, or design, solutions often come not when we desperately search for them in haste, but when we are fully present in the process.
Every moment happens only once. You either experience it, or you lose it.
We live in a world that demands speed, efficiency, and multitasking. But true quality, true artistry, and true creativity are born from presence, not haste.
When you sit down to work today—whether on something personal, creative, or professional—ask yourself:
Am I fully here? Am I truly creating, or just checking off another task?
Ichigo ichie is the art of treating every moment as a rare encounter—with people, with yourself, with ideas, with your work. You can embrace it, or you can miss it.
The choice is yours.
一日一時間
Great things are not born out of haste. They do not emerge from a single spark of genius or sudden bursts of intense effort. True mastery—whether in art, science, or craftsmanship—is the result of consistency, discipline, and perseverance. The philosophy of ichi nichi ichijikan (一日一時間)—literally, "one day, one hour"—reminds us that small but systematic steps lead to the greatest achievements. In a world that demands instant results, this principle is revolutionary (although it has also been an undeniable truth for thousands of years).
Self-improvement, learning a new skill, or nurturing creativity do not require heroic sacrifices or sudden, extreme efforts. One focused, intentional hour each day is enough. This approach aligns with the deep traditions of Japanese philosophy, where repetition and discipline are not constraints but pathways to mastery.
Many people give up on learning or personal growth because they expect quick results. When they don’t see immediate progress, they lose motivation. But progress doesn’t work that way. It happens in the background, invisible at first—until suddenly, a breakthrough occurs. That is why, in Japanese martial arts, it is said:
➤ After 1,000 repetitions, you notice your mistakes.
➤ After 10,000 repetitions, you achieve correctness.
➤ After 100,000 repetitions, movements become natural.
Psychological studies on habit formation (such as James Clear’s Atomic Habits or Anders Ericsson’s Deliberate Practice theory) confirm this approach. It’s not grand efforts that change lives, but small, daily rituals that gradually lead to mastery.
Japanese traditions emphasize consistency above all. In calligraphy, craftsmanship, and martial arts, there is no room for random bursts of intensity. The focus is on steady, gradual development. What today seems like microscopic progress can, in a few years, evolve into unparalleled mastery. This is the principle of compound interest—the most powerful force in the universe, according to Einstein (probably).
Many people underestimate the value of a single hour. They believe it’s too little to make a difference in their lives. But consider this:
One hour a day for a year is 365 hours—nearly ten full weeks of work.
That is more than enough to transform yourself into someone entirely different.
▫ For an artist – One hour of sketching daily leads to noticeable improvements within a month, and after a year, a completely new artistic level.
▫ For a writer – An hour of writing each day means a finished book in a year, rather than endlessly postponing it for "someday."
▫ For a programmer – 365 hours of coding is enough to master a new programming language at a level suitable for professional work.
▫ For an athlete – One hour of conscious training daily is more effective than several random, intense sessions per week (although this may depend on the sport).
When work is consistent, the mind begins treating it as part of a natural daily rhythm, increasing efficiency over time. It’s not about motivation; it’s about systematization.
Every great master is simply someone who kept doing their work daily, without excuses, even when their motivation faded.
Because motivation is powerful, but temporary—it ignites like a flame, burning intensely, but quickly fading. What remains on the battlefield is something else—discipline. Discipline is what distinguishes those who reach mastery from those who never begin.
People often say, "I don’t have time." But we all have the same 168 hours in a week.
The real question is:
Do we truly lack time, or do we not know where it disappears?
One focused hour a day is enough to transform your life and achieve mastery—if that hour is used wisely, with concentration and discipline.
The idea of ichi nichi ichijikan is not about grand resolutions or radical changes. It is about building mastery through small, intentional steps.
Anyone who wants to achieve something—in art, science, sports, creativity—should ask themselves one question each day:
"Did I take at least one step toward my goal today?"
Because if you take a step every day, you will eventually arrive where others never will.
無心の心
Mushin no Shin
Many people believe that productivity is about strict control, rigid planning, and intense effort. However, paradoxically, the more we try to control everything, the more we fall into the trap of frustration, tension, and wasted time. In Japanese philosophy, there is a concept called mushin no shin (無心の心), which can be translated as “mind without mind” or “a mind free from obstacles.” It is a state of action in which consciousness does not hinder movement, thoughts do not limit action, and everything flows naturally and effortlessly.
In the Western world, we speak of the “flow state”, a term coined by psychologist Mihály Csíkszentmihályi. His research showed that people achieve the highest efficiency and satisfaction when fully immersed in an activity—without obsessively analyzing results or worrying about outcomes, but simply doing what needs to be done.
This is precisely mushin—complete dedication to action without mental distractions.
Mushin no shin is a state in which action becomes natural, almost automatic, but not mechanical. Samurai warriors described it as a state where the sword moves “by itself”, without conscious effort. Zen monks saw it as the highest form of harmony—a moment when a person ceases to be separate from their actions.
Many people approach time management obsessively—minute-by-minute planning, constant progress checking, and frustration when things don’t go as planned. But life never unfolds according to expectations. The more we try to control it, the more time we waste on stress, corrections, unnecessary revisions, and internal resistance.
The philosophy of mushin no shin teaches the opposite: act instead of overanalyzing. Focus on the process, not the outcome. Expectations are an unnecessary burden.
Many people delay new projects because they fear the result won’t be perfect.
But martial arts masters, calligraphers, and Zen practitioners understand that action precedes mastery. No one becomes an expert by waiting for the perfect moment. Mushin teaches that the key is to allow yourself to act without inner blockages.
We often waste hours thinking about how to do something perfectly instead of just doing it. Mushin no shin means stopping excessive analysis and simply focusing on movement.
Psychologist Timothy Pychyl has shown that procrastination is not caused by laziness but by emotions tied to a task. If we perceive a task as too difficult, stressful, or unsatisfying, we delay it. Mushin is the antidote because it eliminates emotional blockages and allows us to focus purely on action.
Perfectionist expectations are one of the biggest traps in time management.
If you expect your first draft to be brilliant, you won’t allow yourself the natural process of learning and refining.
Focus on action, not on thinking about action:
Let go of pressure regarding results:
Don’t revise endlessly:
Find your rhythm—don’t fight time:
It’s not about not planning. It’s not about acting mindlessly.
Mushin no shin is a state of lightness in work that appears when we allow ourselves to act without excessive analysis, judgment, and control.
By doing so, we save time, energy, and emotional strain that would otherwise be consumed by doubts, frustration, and unnecessary corrections. Japanese philosophy teaches:
Time management is often associated with cold efficiency, maximizing results, and squeezing as many tasks as possible into each minute. But is that really the goal? Japanese philosophy teaches that time is not a tool for exploitation, but a space where life unfolds.
The goal is not to be busy, but to be present.
It’s not about doing more, but about doing what matters—in the right way.
Japanese masters—whether in martial arts, calligraphy, or craftsmanship—never aimed for speed or multitasking. Quite the opposite: their strength lay in awareness and harmony.
Every moment is a decision—will we use it consciously, or let it slip away unnoticed?
Japanese time philosophy is not about racing against the clock but finding a natural and balanced rhythm.
It’s not about productivity for productivity’s sake. It’s not about checking off tasks.
It’s about living and working in a way that is full, conscious, and calm—so that every hour has meaning.
Time is like the brush of a calligrapher—once a stroke is made, it remains forever.
The choice is ours: will we let time leave random marks, or will we turn it into a masterpiece?
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未開 ソビエライ
An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)
未開 ソビエライ
An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)
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