Six-Month No-Planning Experiment

Do you want to go to the tea house tonight? Yes? Let's go. No time? Maybe another day.

This was my six-month experiment. No planning. And when I do plan, I only put things in my calendar when I am sure about them.

What did I find out?

• I feel less pushed around and more in control of my time.
• I have more spontaneous moments of joy.
• Not planning can be hard when people around you do plan.
• I accepted that I will see some people less often.
• I used to love a full calendar. Now it feels scary and limiting.

Last updated: 13. 3. 2026

Where the no-planning experiment started

I was inspired by simple ideas like:

• Would I say yes if this happened this weekend? No? Then why say yes to something six months away?
• One yes means no to everything else at that time.
• No is a full sentence (I first read this in Magda Čevelová's newsletter).

One yes means a hundred nos

How many times has a friend called me: "I happen to be passing by, can we meet?" "I'll be in town next week, what if we…" And I couldn't. I already had something in my calendar. Something I didn't even want to do. Either I cancel what I promised, or I miss a better moment.

And what if it's not easy to cancel? I get stuck. I waste mental energy.

You can prevent this -> don't plan ahead.

Make plans with a friend only a few days before.

A rare opportunity is not only a friend visiting. It can be a concert, a talk, a workshop, something you really want to go to...

Just one chocolate from the box

I write events I would like to attend in my calendar, but I don't confirm them. When I have three things on the same day, I set priorities. And I choose only shortly before the time comes.

Some things you have to plan, right?

Do I really? "I have to get coffee with my friend, I haven't seen her in a long time" can be reframed: "I want to get coffee with my friend, because otherwise she might think I don't care about her." Hmm, that sentence is not really about me at all. Do I care about her? Then I'll tell her about this experiment and ask if she can be patient with me for now. Do I not care that much? Then I'll let her be upset — that's her choice. And maybe she won't even be upset. Maybe the worry is just floating in the air.

But yes, some things I do want to plan. Those are the best chocolates in the box. I just make sure I don't have too many. As someone wise once said: Cheesecake is great. But you don't want to eat it every day.

I keep to the rule of one planned thing per week. And during the week I let other things come as I feel. After all, on Monday I can much better judge whether I want someone to come into my Thursday, if it really has to be planned...

Today is not tomorrow

What about how you feel on that day? How many times have you picked food in a cafeteria for the whole next week and then stared at your plate thinking: "Why did I choose this?" What if you want to do something else that day? Or you are not in a social mood (this happens to introverts)?

Some dates seem to attract more events. Like the end of September or October, when things pile up. I had to be very careful during those months last year. Because after a two-day seminar in Prague, I really did not want to go to an author reading the next day — even just to sit and listen.

How did I start the six-month no-planning experiment?

Two years ago in Las Palmas, the girlfriend of our French housemate said: "You Europeans are terrible. In Macedonia I call a friend to see if they want to go out. And we go. You pull out a calendar and give me a two-hour window next Wednesday."

That conversation stayed in my head. After five months of not planning in Mexico, I came back to Czech Republic and almost fell back into old habits. But I wanted to go write in Sweden. I didn't know exactly where, and I knew it would be sometime in July. I protected July like a mother protects her young. By saying no to events, I discovered I was happy doing it.

The six-month no-planning experiment helped me escape time poverty. Vero and I talked about time poverty in episode six of the podcast, and I also touched on it in the article Do you have time for slow travel? Why fast travel steals our time, from a different angle.

Where does the need for a full calendar come from?

I wonder where this need comes from. Does it start in school? Where we had a set timetable, and someone always told us: From eight to 8:45, maths. Then language, geography, history...

Sit down! Listen! Now do this exercise! Now learn this. Don't think — that's the teacher's job. And the teacher shouldn't think either — that's what the curriculum is for. A good grade just means repeating what the teacher told you. And a good grade means things are fine at home.

As children we got on our bikes after school, rang a friend's doorbell and asked: "Hello, can Pepa come out?" We pulled a friend out of the house. If they couldn't come, we rode to the next house. It didn't have to be efficient. Nothing bad happened if nobody could come in the end.

Maybe a full calendar gives us the feeling that we are using our time well. Busy means successful!

I don't know. The whole thing feels strange to me. I feel like we got lost somewhere and twisted it all around.

Luckily we are grown-ups now. Yay! I'll hug my Tomík, you hug your person, and let's go make our own timetable. We can now!