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THE INVENTION OF the minute hand is often attributed to the great Swiss
clock maker Joost Bürgi, whose work in the late 16th century coincided
with a burst of technical innovation in clock making that would eventually
bring whole new opportunities for guilt and shame. Along with all your
other problems, you could now be late.
"There's a big owie out there," says David Allen, who specializes in curing
the psychic pain caused by the pressure of time. Allen's work has become
the touchstone of the life-hacking movement, a loosely knit network of
psychological self-experimenters who share tips about how small changes
in human behavior can bring big rewards in happiness. Allen's book
Getting Things Done: The Art of Stress-Free Productivity has steadily
climbed the best-seller lists since its release in 2001, but the best evidence
of its influence is not the 600,000 copies in print but rather the endless
network of spinoffs, how-to guides, software versions, and online
commentaries by readers who interpret, criticize, and extend his theories.
Allen is in Chicago to give one of his daylong seminars, for which several
hundred people will pay nearly $600 each for help putting GTD, as his
method is known, into practice. Many readers of Getting Things Done
apply one or two of the book's tricks, like the process Allen recommends
for emptying an overstuffed email inbox, and then they stall. Some of them
come to seminars like this. Allen himself is unsure if it helps. He realizes
that his system can be difficult and that he's often accused of going
overboard with elaborate schemes. He responds with a shrug. "Look, the
workings of an automatic transmission are more complicated than a
manual transmission," he says. "To simplify a complex event, you need a
complex system."
While the instructions in Getting Things Done are baroque, the underlying
ideas can be summarized in an axiom and three rules:
THE AXIOM
Humans have a problem with stuff. Allen defines stuff as anything we want
or need to do. A tax form has the same status as a marriage proposal; a
book to write is no different than a grocery list. It's all stuff.
1. Collect and describe all the stuff. Everything must be inventoried without
distinction or prejudice. Errands, emails, a problem with a friend: It all
must be noted for processing. Small objects, such as an invitation or a
receipt, go into a pile. Everything else can be represented with a few words
on a piece of paper ("find keys," "change jobs"). Once the stuff is collected,
processing begins. Anything that requires two minutes or less is handled on
the spot. The remainder is governed by the second rule.
2. All stuff must be handled in a precise way. Allen offers dozens of clever
tricks for classifying, labeling, and retrieving stuff. Expert users of GTD
never leave old emails cluttering their inbox, for instance. Nor do they have
to rifle through a bunch of paper to see if there's anything crucial they've
left undone. Emails to be answered are in a separate folder from emails
that merely have to be read; there's a file for every colleague and friend;
stuff that must be done has been identified and placed on one of several
kinds of to-do lists. Allen calls his to-do lists next-action lists, which are
subject to the third rule.
The system Allen describes can be made of anything: ink on paper, data in
a computer, magnets on a board. The important thing is not the materials
but the way the parts connect. In essence, Getting Things Done: The Art of
Stress-Free Productivity is a flowchart for stuff, and the book's most
important page contains no paragraphs. It is just a diagram, with more
than 20 nodes and arrows showing how to process our thoughts.
"Begin with the end in mind," writes Covey in 7 Habits, advising us to craft
a mission statement that captures the fundamental purpose of our life.
Smith, in The 10 Natural Laws of Successful Time and Life Management,
reminds us that Ben Franklin "first identified his governing values, then he
made a concerted effort to live his life, day in, day out, according to these
values." This emphasis on values, and more generally on the spiritual
meaning of life, is the common thread through the genre, back to the
original American self-help entrepreneur.
Allen has almost nothing to say on these topics. He likes to describe his
system as a "bottom up" approach, by which he means that life's values
emerge from its tiniest component actions, rather than a top-down
approach that starts with deep thought. He compares the person working
at a desk with a person walking through the forest. There is a surfeit of
things that one could possibly pay attention to, and the primary task is to
pick out, from the surrounding environment, those signals that require
processing. "Any email could be either a snake in the grass or a berry," he
says. "Which is it?" To resolve this question by reference to one's highest
purpose would be inefficient. When it comes to processing incoming
signals, Allen recommends sorting by the most immediate criteria: How
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long will it take, what is your location, what devices do you have at hand,
what other people are present? These direct, contextual cues do not
demand any profound insight. Tasks can be assessed extremely rapidly and
executed without friction. Where earlier gurus tried to help their followers
make their deep personal commitments explicit and easily accessible to
memory, Allen is selling a kind of technology-enabled forgetting. The life-
hackers like it because it stimulates their ingenuity. They have optimized
versions for the iPhone, for Entourage, and for sets of manila folders. Once
self-management has been broken down into a set of routines, it can be
implemented in any number of high tech or low tech systems.
Allen says his goal is to be free from worrying about anything he has to do.
His techniques allow him the pleasure of having, much of the time, nothing
on his mind. "People are afraid of the void, afraid of negative space," he
says. "But having nothing on your mind is one of the most awesome
experiences."
The only thing Allen was allowed to have in his possession at Napa State
Hospital was a spoon. "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest was pretty
accurate," he says of the time he spent as a mental patient, "and Napa was
one of the good hospitals."
These were dangerous years for young men unsure of their authenticity,
and one day at a party Allen sat down next to a charismatic liar named
Bookbinder and Allen became close. Bookbinder taught him karate, and
soon Allen was using heroin, too. He left his marriage, abandoned his
academic training, and eventually found himself out on the street,
practically penniless, "crucified psychically," as he would later put it,
"absolutely at the bottom physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually."
Worried about the radical change in his behavior, some of Allen's friends
had him committed in 1971. At the mental hospital, Allen received stark
lessons in simulated obedience. He learned to hide his psychiatric
medication under his tongue instead of refusing it or spitting it out, and he
studied what the medical staff seemed to want of him, so that they would
pronounce him cured. "I made a decision to institute a high state of
cooperation with the world again," he says.
The man who put him on a new path was then at the inflection point in a
long and varied spiritual enterprise. Roger Hinkins was born during the
Depression in a poor mining town in central Utah. By the early '70s he had
been introduced to Eckankar by its founder, Paul Twitchell, learned
esoteric philosophy from a correspondence course, changed his name to
Sri John-Roger, started a series of spiritual seminars, and given up his work
Allen gets things done in his personal headquarters, a modest office in the
guesthouse behind his home.
Photo: Robyn TwomeyThat the inventor of their favorite system of
personal organization has a decades-long devotion to New Age thinking
causes fits of squeamishness among GTD fans. "If indeed GTD was
conceived, implemented, and marketed with the intentions of drawing
people into the MSIA cult," wrote one member of the popular productivity
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forum, 43folders.com, "how do we, as conscientious individuals, avoid
becoming prey within the trap?" Allen explains that while he won't hide his
beliefs, he doesn't want his personal faith confused with the message he
has for people today. "The Marriott family supports the Mormon Church,"
he points out, but nobody refuses to sleep in their hotels.
At his seminar, Allen asks the audience to try to capture all their stuff by
writing a list, and at the end of a few minutes he tells us to look at the list
and think about the way it makes us feel. He guesses that our feelings
include a mixture of grief and relief. The relief, he suggests, comes from the
simple fact of making the list. But where does the grief come from? "These
items represent agreements you haven't kept with yourself," Allen says.
"What happens when you break an agreement with yourself is that your
self-esteem plummets."
One of the very best tricks Allen recommends involves reworking one of
the New Age movement's most dubious ideas: the theory we can control
destiny with our mind. From Phineas Quimby, the 19th-century mind-cure
doctor, down through a powerful line of magical optimists including Mary
Baker Eddy, Norman Vincent Peale, and the producers of The Secret, an
inflated sense of the power of thought is characteristic. Werner Erhard's
followers would tell people at est seminars that they had thought
themselves into cancer.
Allen is grappling with all the normal challenges of a person who does not
have a deep hierarchy above or below him, who is required to make
countless small decisions, and who has limited ability to pass mundane
tasks off to others. He sets his own goals and uses his own methods to
achieve them. Allen's list of open loops includes getting GTD adopted in
schools, learning to type 80 words a minute, becoming better at small talk,
and achieving a high net worth. This ambitious mind-set, with its
combination of boldness and conventionality, says something about where
*Getting Things Done *is coming from, and to whom it is aimed. The book
is for people who are striving hard. "The people who take to GTD are the
most organized people," Allen says, "but they self-assess as the least
organized, because they are well-enough organized to know that they are
fucking up." Allen would no more crowd his mental environment with
unprocessed email in his inbox than he would go to bed in filthy clothes, or
stop brushing his teeth. "The scuzz factor gets too high," he says.
Among the normal array of equipment in Allen's office, one item stands
out. It is an hourglass with two minutes of sand. Any clock would serve
equally well to mark the strict interval GTD gives us to process something
the first time we handle it, but Allen's hourglass is as much a talisman as a
practical tool. In a medieval painting, it would symbolize death. Here, the
hourglass is a symbol of virtue. It regulates our attention. It guards our self-
esteem. The guru of Getting Things Done is living by the standards of the
future, and his hourglass is an icon of an emerging civilization whose
exacting demands we may all someday be expected to meet.