One common tip for taking pressure off is to focus on the process rather than the outcome. Often applied in the context of sports or games, this principle generally means that you shift your attention away from the result that you are trying to achieve and onto the concrete actions that you need to perform to bring it about. The result will then take care of itself, so to speak. In a related sense, the ‘outcome’ can also be thought of as including a certain amount or timing. Most often, part of the result that you are trying to achieve is to have some amount of something done by a certain date or within a certain period of time. Detaching yourself from this ‘outcome’ is an interesting variation on this theme.

Many tasks can’t be done in one sitting and have to be completed over time. For these, the natural instinct is to end a given sitting upon the completion of a discrete sub-task within the task. These sub-tasks will generally correspond to the structured parts of the task, for example chapters within a book. Following the boundaries of these sub-tasks makes it easier to pick up the work again at the next session. It facilitates creating what Cal Newport calls the “save state” into which you put the task in between sessions. These sub-tasks, however, become constraints, and deferring to them creates a certain oppression. The sub-tasks become outcomes.

In contrast, there is a special pleasure in interrupting tasks at an arbitrary point, a stopping before the completion even of the subtask. I used to be reluctant to read before going to bed when I knew that I only had a minute or two before my bedtime. That concern disappeared when I realized that I could stop reading whenever. I didn’t even have to finish a paragraph, let alone a page; I could simply set the book down after a sentence in the middle of a paragraph. I had the same aversion to opening bottles or cans of stronger beers, such as the infamous imperial stouts or double IPAs. They would languish in my fridge because I struggled to find a time to have so much alcohol to drink. Then, I simply started pouring them out but drinking them only to a point, leaving some in the glass and then disposing it. In one sense, it might be a waste, but in another sense it enables me to enjoy the part I consume.

I recall an anecdote in which someone said that he makes a point of not rushing to cross the street when he sees that the light is going to change to red soon. He doesn’t increase his pace – let alone run – to try to get across the street. Instead, he carries on, accepting that he might not make it. In doing so, he feels a sense of contentment at going through the world at his own pace, even a sense of triumph at resisting the dictation of circumstance. This perfectly captures the lightness that comes with not insisting on finishing tasks according to their inherent structure. You are liberated from dealing with things strictly as they present themselves, and tasks become almost infinitely malleable.

To the extent that this approach is taken to many different tasks, it will often result is a collection of partially finished tasks. Having all of these open loops can become stressful, but it also affords an opportunity: cleaning up the remaining disparate parts. There are few things more satisfying than taking care of small, discrete tasks or consolidating several outstanding items into one, such as profitably using up a quarter lemon reserved in the fridge in a recipe. The joy of the initial division yields a different, related joy later on. Everything is more enjoyable, and the ultimate outcomes come about more easily eventually.