Hey Time Dorks,

I just got back from a 10-day wilderness survival trip on a desert island in Panama.

We spent the first five days learning bushcraft from two seasoned instructors — fishing, building shelter, fashioning tools from natural materials, making fire.

Then came the survival phase: three days where we had to put our new skills to the test. Despite catching almost no fish, sleeping on beds fashioned from slats made of bamboo, and enduring some pesky sandflies, we made it to the finish line.

When we returned to civilization, I was filled with an immense sense of gratitude for all the modern comforts I take for granted. The satisfaction of eating a simple hard-boiled egg with a dash of salt was almost indescribable — better than any high-end meal I can remember.

There was a lot I took away from those 10 days, but there's one idea I kept coming back to on the flight home: the joy of doing one thing at a time.

On the second day, we set off to locate palm trees so we could harvest fronds for the roof of our shelter. We hiked along the beach, over rocks, and waded through shallow water until we discovered a set of perfect palm trees. After each of us selected a branch, we tossed it over our shoulder and headed back to camp.

The hike home was not so easy. The tide had risen significantly, making the rocky shoreline more slippery and harder to navigate. Balancing the palm frond on my shoulder while climbing across wet rocks took my full attention.

As we arrived back sweaty, sandy, and shoes soaked, I felt incredible. As I reflected on it, I realized something about the hike: I had found that sweet spot so often described as 'flow' — the challenge of the hike took all my attention, it was hard but not impossible, and throughout the journey, there was no room in my head for anything else.

And I noticed something else too: I wasn't just relieved and satisfied to be done with the task (though I was), I had this deep sense of joy in the doing itself.

That same feeling showed up all week while I was collecting firewood, fishing off the rocks, or chopping up a coconut with a machete.

It was only when I got back to Lisbon that I recognized the stark contrast between my daily routine in the wild, and my normal day at the laptop.

On the island, my tasks were simple, sequential, and mainly physical. When we learned how to start fire, we first needed to find a well-shaped branch for our bow drill. Then we needed to find a piece of hardwood. Then we carved the handold, the spindle, and the fireboard, one after the other.

Although it took me hours to assemble my kit and start my first fire, I never once felt distracted, anxious, or overwhelmed.

In my normal workday, my tasks are complex, wide-ranging, and mainly cognitive. One minute I'm updating a Google Doc, the next I'm answering questions from clients in our Skool community. Then I'm focused on drafting speaker notes, and before the day's done, I'm calling my doctor to make an appointment for my daughter.

While our ancient ancestors might have spent the entire morning fishing or foraging, my morning can look like 14 different browser tabs open before I finish my first coffee.

In this environment, it's natural to feel like our attention is scattered across too many things, or that we find it hard to sustain focus on what's most important. We are living in a crazy world that moves faster than our attention was designed for.

The island experience reminded me of something simple: it feels good to be focused on just one thing at a time.

Most people I know (myself included) fall into the trap of doing too many things at once. The pace of modern life and the complexity of knowledge work make it feel like it’s the only way to stay afloat in a sea of daily tasks and responsibilities.

But I know (and you probably do too) that every time you switch contexts, you pay a cognitive price. When you jump between unrelated tasks, you brain has to has to boot up new context, reload the history of that interaction, and get back up to speed.

That cognitive overhead adds up fast — and the research is consistent: multitasking (specifically context-switching) makes you slower, increases errors, and raises stress. You feel busy, but you're less effective.

Most importantly, this state of fragmented attention isn't enjoyable. It robs us of the fullillment and pleasure of true focus.

So how can you get back to one thing at a time?

Here are a few steps I’ve been recommitting to:

Step 1: Admit defeat

The most underrated step is accepting your limits and recognizing you can't do everything, all at once, all the time. Oliver Burkeman put it much more eloquently than I could:

Step 2: Pick your one big thing

The best place to practice single-tasking is with your daily Highlight. So before you dive in, ask yourself: what would make today feel like a win?

Step 3: Set up your environment

On the island, there was no internet to distract us. At home, you have to design that deliberately.

Close the tabs you won't need. Put your phone out of sight. Set your status to away on Slack. This isn't about willpower, it's about choosing defaults that make it easier for you to maintain your focus.

Step 4: Regulate before you begin

This is the step nobody talks about, but has made a huge difference to me.

If you're stressed, rushed, and your nervous system is out-of-whack, your prefrontal cortex is partially offline, and paying attention is going to feel tough.

Instead of trying to force focus, try this: take 5 slow breaths, paying particular attention to the exhale. This takes one minute, but it'll down-regulate your nervous system and create the physiological conditions where focus comes easier.

Step 5: Do the thing.

Set a timer if it helps. We recommend 60-90 minutes for your Highlight, but you might break that up into shorter windows when you're getting started.

Fair warning: you’ll probably get distracted faster than you expect. That's not a failure, it just means you're building that attention muscle. When it happens, notice it, and gently bring your attention back. Every time you return is a rep.

The wilderness trip reminded me that focus isn’t just some productivity hack. I believe protecting our attention so we can engage deeply with what's important to us is fundamental to a rich and satisfying life. The modern world just makes it harder to access.

Thanks for reading,

Connor

P.S. If you want to build the inner capacities of nervous system regulation and attention training that will make focus feel effortless, that's the deeper work I do with clients in The Inner Operating System. If that sounds like what you need, let's have a chat.