I booked a spontaneous 3-day trip to Bali a few weeks ago.
Not because I suddenly had free time. Because I’d already protected my Fridays and spotted an airline sale.
Spontaneity within structure. That’s the move.
This month has a road trip and an international getaway. And I’ve noticed: the weekdays feel lighter. More alive. Not because I’m wishing them away—because there’s something worth moving toward.
Here’s how I’m engineering that feeling at every level of life.
Today in 6 minutes or less, you’ll learn:
✔️ The Future Me test that filters bad decisions instantly
✔️ A reflection on showing people they matter
✔️ How to design anticipation into your daily, weekly, monthly and yearly life
Doable ideas 💭
Before saying yes to anything, ask: “Will Future Me thank me for this?”
That evening commitment when you’re already exhausted? Future You says no.
That skill you’re learning that excites you? Future You is grateful.
The project that sounds impressive but drains you? Future You regrets it.
Let Future You veto Present You’s people-pleasing.
They know what you actually need.
Reflections 🪞
What small gesture could I make this week to show someone I care about them deeply?
Mindfulness 🧘🏻♀️
I’ve noticed something about how time feels this month.
I have a road trip planned. And a quick international getaway.
And suddenly, Monday to Thursday are flying by.
Not in a “where did the time go?” anxious way. In a “life feels full and interesting” way.
I’m not wishing away the present. I’m enjoying it more because there’s something ahead worth moving toward.
The difference anticipation makes
Here’s what I’m realising: life feels richer when I have things to look forward to.
Not just weekends. Not just “eventually, someday.” Actual events. On the calendar. Planned.
The road trip in a week. The getaway next month.
They’re not here yet. But knowing they’re coming changes how the present feels.
The days have momentum. There’s texture. Something to work toward, plan for, get excited about.
Without that? The weeks blur. Tuesday feels like Thursday. Everything flattens into “just getting through.”
The trap of waiting for spontaneity
I used to think planning ahead was the opposite of living in the moment.
“I’ll be spontaneous. I’ll do things when I feel like it. I won’t over-schedule.”
Sounds good. Doesn’t work.
Because “when I feel like it” usually means “when I have energy.” And by the time I have energy, the moment’s passed. The opportunity’s gone. The trip requires six weeks’ notice for leave.
Spontaneity without structure just becomes… nothing happening.
The irony: planning things to look forward to makes me more present now. Because now has momentum.
Creating anticipation at every level
So I’m testing this: what if I designed anticipation into my life? Not just waiting for it to happen, but engineering it.
Micro, daily level. Macro, yearly level. Everything in between.
Daily: the morning that’s worth waking for
I’ve started getting up 20 minutes earlier to make proper coffee. Not rushed. Not while checking email.
Just: coffee, made well, sat with.
Sounds trivial. But it gives me something to look forward to before bed. “Tomorrow morning, good coffee.”
That small anticipation shifts how I approach the day. I’m not dragging myself out of bed into obligation. I’m getting up for something I enjoy.
What’s your version?
Maybe it’s breakfast you actually like. A morning walk before the world gets loud. Ten minutes reading before work starts.
The activity doesn’t matter. The anticipation does.
Weekly: the calendar that isn’t just work
I’ve been scheduling lunches and dinners with people I actually want to see.
Not “we should catch up sometime.” Actual dates. In the calendar.
Wednesday lunch with a friend. Friday dinner trying that new place.
It breaks up the week. Gives me something to look forward to beyond “Friday evening collapse.”
And here’s what’s interesting: knowing I have dinner plans on Friday makes Tuesday and Wednesday more enjoyable. There’s rhythm. Variation. Something coming.
Without that? Every day is work, then collapse, repeat.
With it? The week has shape.
Monthly: the thing that gets you outside
Once a month, I’m scheduling something outdoors. Half-day minimum.
Hike. Beach trip. Drive somewhere new. Outdoor market. Doesn’t matter what—just: outside, moving, different.
It’s enough time to break the routine without requiring massive planning. And it gives each month something distinct.
January: that hike near Palm Beach. February: a road trip to Mudgee. March: something else.
When months have markers, they don’t blur into “where did the year go?”
Yearly: the trips that punctuate everything
Two or three international trips spread across the year.
Not all at once. Spaced. Something always a few months out.
The trip itself matters. But so does the anticipation. Planning it. Looking forward to it. Having something major on the horizon.
It gives the year structure. Direction. Something bigger than daily routine.
The spontaneity paradox
Here’s the thing: scheduling these doesn’t kill spontaneity. It enables it.
Because when the big things are planned, I can be spontaneous with the small things.
Knowing I will be away at the end of the month means I can say yes to last-minute dinner tonight without feeling like I’m missing out on life.
Knowing I have regular friend dates means I can say no to draining social obligations without guilt.
The structure creates space for spontaneity. Without structure, everything feels like it should be spontaneous, so nothing happens.
I’ve been protecting my boundary of not working on Fridays this year. Such planning allowed me to leverage airline sale and book a random 3-day trip to Bali.
Spontaneity within a structure.
What I’m not saying
I’m not saying every moment needs to be optimised.
I’m not saying you need a packed calendar to enjoy life.
I’m not saying boredom is bad or rest is wasted time.
I’m saying: attention to what you look forward to matters. Because anticipation changes how the present feels.
The question worth asking
When’s the last time you had something on your calendar you were genuinely excited about?
Not obligations. Not “should do.” Actually excited.
If you can’t remember, that’s data.
Your calendar might be full, but is it full of things worth anticipating?
How to engineer more anticipation
Try this:
Daily: Identify one small thing you can look forward to every morning or evening. Schedule it. Protect it.
Weekly: Put one non-work thing on your calendar that excites you. Lunch with someone. New restaurant. Class you’ve been curious about.
Monthly: Plan one half-day experience. Outdoors ideally. Different from routine. Doesn’t need to be expensive—just different.
Yearly: Pick 2-3 bigger trips or experiences. Space them out. Get at least one on the calendar now.
Spontaneity space: Leave gaps. Don’t pack everything. The structure creates room for unplanned moments.
The test
Ask yourself: what am I looking forward to this week? This month? This quarter?
If the answer is “nothing specific,” you’re not living—you’re enduring.
And you don’t have to endure.
The permission to plan joy
Somewhere along the way, we got the message that planning good things is indulgent. Frivolous. Not serious enough.
Work gets planned. Obligations get scheduled. Dentist appointments make the calendar.
But joy? “I’ll get to it when I have time.”
You won’t have time. You make time.
And making time means planning it.
What living fully actually looks like
It’s not waiting for life to feel good someday.
It’s engineering regular moments—daily, weekly, monthly—that you genuinely look forward to.
It’s giving your weeks rhythm and your year structure.
It’s having something on the horizon that makes Monday to Thursday feel like movement, not just marking time.
Your turn
What’s one thing you could put on your calendar right now that you’d actually look forward to?
Lunch with a friend next week?
Day trip next month?
Weekend away in two months?
Morning ritual tomorrow that’s just for you?
Don’t wait for spontaneity to deliver. Design the anticipation.
Then watch how differently time feels.
Life gets richer when you give yourself things worth moving toward.
Not someday. This week. This month. This year.
Plan the joy. Protect it like it matters.
Because it does.
Ideas Worth Pondering 🧠
Real choice costs something. It costs discomfort, which is why most of us avoid it. It requires trade-offs that feel like small deaths. It builds or destroys momentum in ways you won’t fully understand until years later when you’re trying to explain to someone how you ended up here. It either honors or betrays your self-respect, and you can feel the difference in your body even when you can’t articulate it in words.
– Stepfanie Tyler, You are what you choose
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